‘I suppose so,’ he grunted, but the marquee did look wonderful with a dozen round tables set for dinner and surrounded by white ladder-backed chairs.
‘Let me get you all a drink,’ Nicholas said, sensing the tension. He waved vigorously at one of the waiters, who brought over a tray of glasses.
I took an orange juice from the tray and Nicholas raised his eyebrows.
‘I’ve a speech to make,’ I said. ‘And I’m driving. I might have a glass of wine with dinner.’
‘You’re making the toast, remember, and we have champagne for that.’
‘I won’t forget,’ I assured him.
I went over to the bar area to give Tatiana a kiss and wish her a happy birthday.
‘You look gorgeous, darling,’ I said to her. Although, in truth, I thought her skirt was six inches too short and her heels were four inches too high.
‘Your speech is not going to be too embarrassing, is it?’ she asked.
‘Probably,’ I said.
‘Oh, God. It’s bad enough with Mum insisting on putting these dreadful pictures on all the tables. They’re so crass.’
I looked at the one nearest to me. It showed Tatiana as a baby, sitting naked in the bath. I could understand how she felt uncomfortable having a picture of herself like that for all her school friends to see. But, equally, I could appreciate how Angela would have found it rather amusing.
‘Don’t worry,’ I said. ‘I won’t be as embarrassing as that.’
She smiled at me. ‘I’m so glad. Now come and meet my friends.’
At dinner, I found myself sitting between Angela and a girl called Emily Lowther. I say a girl, but she was about my age, dark haired, beautiful and slim. She was wearing a low cut black dress that displayed just the right amount of bosom, and almost the first thing she told me was that she was a childless divorcée and one of Angela’s best friends from the local gym.
I detected a barefaced attempt by my sister to match-make, and I told her so in a fierce whisper.
‘So what?’ Angela said, unabashed. ‘Emily needs a husband, and you need a wife. And she is gorgeous, isn’t she? And frighteningly bright as well.’
She certainly was gorgeous, but did I really need a wife? Was I not happy enough as a bachelor?
It was certainly true that the ending of my affair with Sarah had made me rather glum, but I’d been so depressed anyway because of Clare that a little more misery didn’t seem to matter much.
And I kept telling myself that I missed Sarah only because some of the excitement had gone out of my life rather than for the loss of any undying love I might have had for her. In fact, I wondered if the possibility of being found out had been the most arousing aspect of our affair. So would I find the same thrill in a relationship that I could be open and honest about?
‘What happened to her husband?’ I asked Angela quietly as Emily talked to my father, who was sitting on her other side.
‘Stupid man decided after four years of marriage that he preferred boys. I ask you. Left our gorgeous Emily for some French male hairdresser called Pierre. The man must be a raving lunatic.’
Emily put her hand on my arm. ‘Mark, I’m so sorry about Clare.’
‘Thank you,’ I said, turning towards her but not removing her hand. ‘It has been a very difficult couple of weeks.’
Was it really only two weeks? How the time had dragged.
‘It must have been,’ Emily said. She moved her hand forward and placed it on the back of mine, squeezing it a little. ‘Do say if there’s anything I can do to help you, anything at all.’
‘Thank you,’ I said, looking her directly in the eyes. ‘I will.’
Was I mistaken, or had I just been propositioned for sex?
13
‘And finally, will you all be upstanding and raise your glasses to join me in a toast to my favourite god-daughter — happy eighteenth birthday, Tatiana.’
‘Happy birthday, Tatiana,’ chorused the assembled guests.
We all sang ‘Happy Birthday to You’ as a magnificent cake with two rows of flaming candles was brought out by Nicholas. To rapturous cheers from her school friends, Tatiana blew out the eighteen candles, cut the cake, and then made a short speech of thanks to her parents with every second word being ‘amazing’.
‘Yours was a great speech. Well done,’ said Emily, again squeezing my hand.
‘Thanks.’
‘I hate speaking in public,’ she said. ‘I get so nervous.’
‘I do it for a living,’ I replied. ‘You get used to it.’
‘Yes, I know. I’ve seen you on television, but don’t you get one of those autocue things to read?’
‘Never,’ I said. ‘You only get those in a studio and I work exclusively on racecourses.’
At that moment the DJ decided to turn up the volume of the music from loud to ear-splitting, making further conversation difficult, if not impossible. I looked at my watch. It was already almost eleven o’clock.
‘Do you want to dance?’ Emily shouted into my ear.
‘Not really,’ I replied fortissimo into hers. ‘I need to go fairly soon. I’ve got an early start.’
‘I could come with you,’ she shouted, looking straight into my eyes. ‘If you want.’
Did I want?
‘I’m sorry, but not tonight,’ I said into her ear. ‘I am staying at my dead sister’s cottage. I think I’d rather be there alone. But thank you.’
‘We could go to my place.’
Was she being a tad too desperate?
‘I need to be at Newmarket racecourse at seven o’clock in the morning for the Morning Line, and it’s just a mile from my sister’s cottage. That’s why I’m staying there.’
‘I’ll take that as a no, then.’
‘Look, I’m sorry. It’s not that I don’t want to. It’s just that...’
‘You don’t need to explain,’ she said quickly. ‘It’s fine.’ But I could see from her expression that it wasn’t really.
‘I think I’d better go now.’ I leaned forward and gave her a brief kiss on the cheek. ‘It’s been lovely meeting you.’ It was a totally inadequate thing to say, and both of us knew it.
I stood up to go, but turned back to her.
‘Do you have a number?’ I asked. ‘Perhaps I could call you?’
She produced a pen from her handbag and wrote down a number on a scrap of paper, which she then handed to me.
‘Call me in the morning, after the programme,’ she said. ‘I’ll be watching.’
‘OK. I will.’
Was I being a fool? I’d already bemoaned to myself how lonely Clare’s cottage had seemed when I’d dressed there earlier, and here I was turning down the perfect opportunity not to have to spend the night there. But did I actually want to jump into bed with someone I’d only just met. Mind you, it wouldn’t have been the first time, not by a long way. But...
‘Go on, go,’ Emily shouted into my ear over the music. It was as if she knew what I was thinking. ‘Call me tomorrow.’
I went to find Angela and Nicholas to thank them for a lovely party. Angela was in the house, where it was, thankfully, much quieter.
‘Do you really have to go so soon?’ she asked.
‘I’m on the Morning Line,’ I said by way of explanation.
‘But what about Emily?’ she asked, looking over my shoulder.
‘She’s been very nice,’ I said.
‘But isn’t she going with you?’
‘No,’ I said.
‘Oh,’ she said, clearly disappointed.
‘Nice try, Sis,’ I said, giving her a kiss. ‘Enjoy the rest of the party. Where’s Nick?’
‘Trying to close the bar, I think. At least for a bit. Some of those girls are getting very drunk.’
I personally thought they’d been very drunk for ages. Long legs, short skirts and tipsy with it — some of the boys clearly thought that Christmas had come early this year, if only they themselves hadn’t drunk too much to make the most of the situation. I was quite glad that none of them were my concern.