The Surprise Party

‘If they’ve got any cider—’ he began.

Sadie snorted. ‘Yeah right, it looks like just the sort of do where they’d have laid on a shedload of White Lightning for head-bangers like you, doesn’t it? You can be so dense sometimes – they’re more likely to have champagne than cider, you pillock.’

Tucker looked hurt. ‘Yeah, all right in that case I’ll have a bottle of that then,’ he said self-consciously, stuffing his hands into his pockets. Hannah stared at him, thinking about how things were very slowly shifting, how she used to be really pleased that Sadie was her friend and how it was that now, all this time down the line, she had ended up being as intimidated and nervous of her as she had been of any of the cliques in school.

Hannah glanced up at Simon. He shrugged and then winked, which made her smile.

‘C’mon then,’ he said. ‘Let’s get this show on the road.’

They went through the gate, circling around the back of the summerhouse before stepping out onto the lawn. Hannah made a show of nonchalance. There was a buzz of activity behind the big marquee and nobody appeared to notice them as they wandered in among the hired help. There were girls dressed in black and white checked chef’s trousers with snowy white jackets carrying in trays of food, and boys dressed all in black, with waistcoats and slicked back hair chatting in a corner. A trail of older men were ferrying musical instruments, speakers and all sorts of other paraphernalia from the front of the house around into the big tent. Hannah looked left and right, wary as a feral cat. There was no sign of her mum and dad, or in fact of anyone else that Hannah recognised.

‘This way,’ she said to Simon. ‘We need to be quick, while there’s no one about. The bar’s in here.’

Without another word, Simon followed her into the marquee. Away from Tucker and Sadie, he looked more normal, the kind of boy her mum would think was fun and nice to have around and would smile at and mean it.

‘Are you sure you want to do this?’ he said, loping along beside her. ‘You know, getting the booze and stuff?’

Hannah sighed. ‘I can’t see I’ve got a lot of choice really. If I don’t Sadie’s going to come bowling in here causing trouble.’

‘So you’re okay with it?’

Hannah sighed. ‘Yeah, well, kind of . . . You know, yes and no. It’ll be all right as long as my mum and dad don’t catch us. They don’t like me hanging out with Sadie very much. But it’ll be cool.’

‘So what are you going to say?’ he said. ‘“Hello. I want some booze for my mates?”’

Hannah hesitated, considering her options. Lying really wasn’t her forte, better to tell the truth. ‘More or less. I was just going say someone sent me to get a bottle of vodka and a bottle of champagne,’ she said looking up at him with a grin.

He grinned right back at her, which made something tingle inside her. ‘And you think that’s going to work?’

‘Dunno,’ said Hannah with a shrug. ‘It’s worth a shot though I reckon.’

Inside the tent, despite the activity, the air was flat and hot and heavy, muffling the sounds from outside. A couple of waitresses were busy setting up the tables with cutlery and glasses. On a dais to the left of the door was a long table with a screen hanging behind it, and behind that was an area being used to organise the food for the party. To the right, in the corner, was the bar, while in the far corner the band were setting up their instruments. A large man with a beard and glasses was putting together a drum kit, and another was running wires out for the various guitars and amplifiers.

‘Looks like it’s going to be a good do,’ said Simon, nodding towards the group.

‘Yeah.’

‘Shame we can’t stay really,’ Simon said.

Hannah glanced at him. ‘Really?’

He nodded. ‘Yeah, food, drink and a band – it’d be great.’

Hannah tried to work out whether he was being serious or not. ‘We could maybe come back later if you like,’ she said, testing the waters.

‘Okay, sounds good,’ he said. ‘But not with Sadie. I mean – well, you know . . .’ Simon hesitated, as if waiting to see if Hannah was going to protest and then, when she didn’t, he smiled and added, ‘It’s not exactly her kind of thing, is it?’

‘No – I suppose not. Not enough thrash metal and swearing.’

Simon laughed and then shifted his weight. ‘You know my mum won’t let her and Tucker come round ours any more. Did I tell you that?’

Hannah shook her head and was about to ask why when she saw Megan hurrying across the marquee towards them.

‘Where on earth have you been? Mum’s looking all over for you,’ Megan said indignantly, casting a cool appraising eye over Simon. ‘Dad’s going leery because you said you were going to be here to help him with the lights and the photos and stuff. It’s not fair, I’m not going to cover for you – you’re in big trouble, they’re really annoyed that you cleared off.’

‘All right, all right, I know, I know,’ said Hannah, not wanting to be shown up by Megan in front of Simon. ‘Did you tell them where I was?’

‘No, of course I didn’t,’ snapped Megan. ‘But what if they ask me again?’

Hannah shot a sharp look at Simon who took the hint and wandered off.

‘It’s all cool, okay? I’ve just been hanging out with Sadie for a bit and now I’ve come back to pick up a couple of things,’ she hissed angrily.

Megan eyed her suspiciously before taking another look at Simon. ‘What do you mean, like running an errand or something?’

Hannah nodded. ‘Yeah, like running an errand or something.’

Megan didn’t look convinced. ‘Who for? I thought you just said that you were hanging out with Sadie—’

‘I was,’ said Hannah ignoring the question. ‘But I’ve come back to get this stuff sorted out. All right? So where did you say Mum and Dad are?’

‘They’ve gone home to get changed. They shouldn’t be very long. Dad said if we want anything before they come back then we’ve got to go in and ask Liz.’

‘And where’s Liz now?’ asked Hannah, glancing around the marquee.

‘Still upstairs getting ready as far as I know. So are you going to stay and help now?’

Hannah looked over towards the bar, where a woman with big earrings was busy fitting bottles up into the optics. ‘No, not at the minute. I just told you, I’ve got to get stuff.’ Hannah was hoping that if she said it forcefully enough that Megan would assume it was one of the grown-ups who had sent her.

Megan looked as if she was about to argue and then said, ‘Well, all right, but you’d better hurry up and get back. Mum said they were only going to be gone for half an hour and they’re expecting you to be here to help.’

‘I know, I know, now just get off my case, will you?’ snapped Hannah. ‘I just need to do this first, all right ?’

‘Can I come?’

Hannah stared at her in amazement. ‘What? What do you mean, can you come?’

‘With you. It’s going to be so boring here.’

‘I don’t think so,’ said Hannah.

‘You’re going to do something, aren’t you? You’re up to something.’

Hannah sighed. ‘What’s it got to do with you what I get up to?’

‘Why don’t you just let me tag along? I won’t be any trouble, I promise. Please.’

Hannah rolled her eyes. ‘Why would I want to drag you along?’

Megan flinched. ‘I’ll tell them you were here.’

‘Tell them what you like.’

‘You know Mum’s really worried about you going around with Sadie, she thinks you’re going to get into drugs or get pregnant or—’

Hannah swung round. Stepping in close to her little sister, she loomed over her. ‘Why don’t you just shut up? What I do is my business, all right ?’

‘You used to like it when we did stuff together.’

‘Uh-huh, and I used to think there was a tooth fairy too,’ snapped Hannah.

‘I miss you,’ said Megan miserably as Hannah turned away. The words caught hold of her heart and made her wince but Hannah didn’t turn back.

Instead Megan sniffed and went back to her job while Hannah made her way to the bar with a certain determination in her step.

‘You okay?’ asked Simon, hurrying across to catch up with her.

Hannah nodded. ‘I’m fine.’

The barmaid had just put up a bottle of gin on the bar.

Hannah hesitated for a second or two and then, putting on her most helpful-child-on-an-errand face, said politely, ‘Excuse me?’

The woman turned round and smiled. ‘Hi there, honey. You all right? What do you want?’

Hannah took a deep breath and, pretending that she was reciting a list, said, ‘I’ve got to come and get a bottle of vodka and a bottle of champagne, please.’

The woman laughed. ‘Really? What sort of cocktail is that for then? Do you need any mixers? Orange juice or something?’ She indicated the rest of the bottles stacked up in crates.

Hannah glanced up at Simon who pulled a face. ‘I don’t know,’ she said, looking back at the barmaid. ‘I don’t think so. I just had to come and get vodka and champagne.’

‘Righty-oh, well, if you want anything else you’ll have to come back and I’ll sort you out. Hang on.’ The barmaid reached in under the bar. ‘There we go, me dear,’ she said, sliding a bottle of vodka across the counter. ‘You’re not planning a little party of your own somewhere, are you?’ she added, although it didn’t sound as if she was expecting an answer. ‘I just need to book it out. It’s not a problem. I can get the boss to bring me down another bottle when he comes. I’m not in charge of champagne though, you’ll have to go and ask one of the catering staff for that.’ As she spoke the woman took a pad of paper off the bar and began to write. Hannah could feel her colour and her heart rate rising and waited anxiously for the hammer to fall. Instead the woman looked up at her. ‘Was there anything else you wanted, pet?’ she said. ‘Orange juice? Maybe a lemonade or a Coke for you and your friend?’

Hannah realised with a start that it had worked and said hastily. ‘No, no that’s everything. Thank you.’ And grabbing the bottle, she headed off towards the caterers.

‘Bloody hell,’ hissed Simon, stepping up alongside her. ‘That was easy.’

Hannah looked up at him. ‘You think so?’ she said between gritted teeth. ‘I thought she was going to make me sign for it. Here, you can carry it.’

He grinned. ‘Fair enough.’

With Simon holding onto the vodka, Hannah decided to try the same tactic on one of the waitresses, who was busy unpacking a box of glasses. ‘Hello, we’ve come to pick up a bottle of champagne,’ Hannah said brightly, with a confidence that she didn’t feel.

The girl half turned to check her out and then yelled at the top of her voice, ‘Matt, can you come out here and sort this out, please? Someone wants champagne.’ At which point Hannah felt a great rush of panic and willed the ground to open up and swallow her whole, but instead her mum’s friend Matthew, who was busy in the prep area, looked up and smiled at Hannah.

‘Hi there,’ he said, ‘Yeah, that’s okay, it’s Suzie’s daughter. For Liz, is it? It’ll be fine.’ And with that he went back to whatever it was he was doing.

The girl disappeared out into the kitchen area and returned seconds later carrying a chilled bottle of champagne, which she handed to Hannah with a wink. ‘Don’t go drinking it all at once now, will you?’ she said.

‘Course not. Thank you,’ said Hannah, turning away and letting out a long slow breath as she and Simon made their way towards the door.

‘Whatever you do, don’t run,’ said Hannah out of the corner of her mouth.

Chapter Eight

‘So where exactly are you at the moment, Fleur?’ said Suzie, pressing the mobile phone tight to her ear. ‘The signal’s absolutely terrible. It’s really crackly.’

‘That’s probably the twigs,’ said Fleur. ‘I’m hiding.’

‘What?’ said Suzie in surprise. ‘What do you mean you’re hiding?’

‘In a shrubbery, near the lake.’

‘What on earth are you hiding from?’ asked Suzie.

‘Your mother and father. I thought I just saw them coming down this way. I’m supposed to be looking at some folly in the woods but my feet are killing me and it’s bloody miles away. I don’t want the two of them to catch me.’

‘Right . . .’ said Suzie, deciding that whatever the explanation was she could do without hearing any more of it; but Fleur was on a roll.

‘This is all your fault, you know. I’ve been trying to keep them out of your way as long as possible. Your mother’s been really rude to me.’

Suzie considered for a split second whether she should carry on with the family tradition. She had wet hair, was naked except for a bath towel, couldn’t find the new shoes that went with the new dress she’d bought for the party and would still be in the shower if Fleur hadn’t rung and insisted that she really needed to speak to Suzie now. Sam had assumed it was some sort of emergency and had practically dragged her out of the bathroom.

‘So how long do you think it’s going to be before you get home?’ Suzie asked, taking a long hard look under the dressing table as she spoke. Her new shoes had got to be somewhere.

‘I’m just going to go back and find your mum and dad. It’ll be a least another half hour before we leave.’

‘Okay. Perfect. Fleur, I’m really sorry but I’ve got to go—’

‘Oh that’s right. It’s all right for you, I don’t know why you couldn’t have taken them out for the day and come here with them instead of me. You know I hate all this garden lark,’ said Fleur miserably. ‘It’s been my idea of hell dragging them round this place all day.’

‘You’re doing a brilliant job,’ said Suzie as brightly as she could. ‘We couldn’t have managed to do it without you.’

But Fleur was in no mood to be interrupted, or flattered, come to that. ‘My place, I’ve got gravel, couple of strips of Astroturf, bit of paving and some plastic trees. You just hose the whole lot down once in a while to wash the dust off. I don’t hold with all this weeding, cutting and pruning palaver. Talk about a waste of time. You know your mother knows the name of all the plants, don’t you? In Latin. I’ve never been so bored in my entire life – red flowers, yellows flowers, why would anyone get excited over a bush, for God’s sake?’

Sam, who had leapt into the shower as soon as he had dragged Suzie out, walked into the bedroom wrapped in a towel. He looked at her anxiously. ‘Everything all right?’ he mouthed, indicating the phone.

Suzie nodded and gave him the thumbs up as she continued the conversation with Fleur. ‘Well, you can come home as soon as you like now, we’re more or less ready here.’

‘Thank God for that,’ sighed Fleur. ‘I’m totally petunia-ed out.’

*

Meanwhile, up on the terrace outside the stately home’s tearooms, having decided not to go looking for Fleur, and having finished off a pot of tea and the best of the cakes, Rose had left Jack sitting in the sunshine reading the guidebook, while she went off to wander around the gift shop. She had intended to go looking for plants, but what caught her eye instead was a large notice standing slap bang in the middle of the main aisle that read: ‘Unfortunately our fairy tale folly will be closed this summer for refurbishment. We apologise for any inconvenience to our visitors and invite you along next year for the grand gala opening. Special rate tickets are available at the counter.’

Rose raised her eyebrows; it looked as if Fleur was going to be disappointed after all.

*

Back at Rose and Jack’s cottage Liz was becoming increasingly flustered and annoyed. She hated to be rushed: it made her feel uneasy. Usually she allowed herself at least two hours to get ready, that was the absolute bare minimum; and as far as she was concerned it was two hours well spent.

Suzie’s daily regime appeared to involve slapping on a bit of moisturiser, some mascara and an old pair of jeans. But then again there was nothing in Suzie’s precious organic vegetable patch that was going to think she’d let herself go just because she wasn’t in full make-up at six in the morning for some stupid promotional do in a park in the middle of nowhere. No cabbage, courgette or cauliflower was ever going to suggest Suzie needed to lose a few pounds, no leek would ever mention in a meeting that they had seen this fantastic new girl on some obscure cable show who was really hot and incredibly talented and only twenty-bloody-three.

Oh no, in her line of work Suzie could go on till she had a face like a badly worn moccasin, whereas in Liz’s profession one slip, one slide, one filler session gone wrong, and you could find yourself hosting an afternoon car boot show. Once you reached a certain age it was easy to glide from golden girl to Granny’s collectibles in one short step, and while Lizzie actually felt that she was at her peak and had several good years ahead of her yet, it was important to be ever watchful, to keep herself in shape, keep up with those facials and not let time get the upper hand.

The gym, Botox, fillers, Gregor and his diabolical machines were going to be an occupational hazard for as long as she wanted a face and figure that fitted on prime-time TV.

For her parents’ party, Liz was planning to go with a subtle but sexy local-girl-made-good-comes-home look. Dewy, bright, natural-looking skin, pink, pearly lips, bright but subtle eyes, her hair lightly styled and looking very slightly windswept.

Laid out on the dressing table was a palette and selection of brushes that wouldn’t have looked out of place in an artist’s studio. Liz leant in a little closer to check how she was doing – looking natural and girl-next-doorsy was the toughest look of all to pull off.

Her stylist at Starmaker had sorted out three possible outfits for the party: a little Victoria Beckham number with its trademark full-length zip, a Hervé Léger bandage dress and something from Burberry that Emma Watson had worn to some daytime thing, although this one was in jade not grape. While the outfits had looked just fine in London, looking at them now on their hangers with the shoes standing underneath, Liz suspected that they were all too dressy for West Norfolk. For the girl who styled her at Starmaker, Camden was probably her idea of rural.

It all looked way too show-bizzy – and those Louboutins were going to be a complete nightmare on the grass. Liz took a deep breath and tried not to let Suzie unsettle her. ‘Calm, calm,’ she murmured. ‘Deep breaths, inner strength. Do not let her get to you.’

Just why the hell should she be expected to rush when she’d paid for almost all of the party?

Liz picked up a make-up brush, closed her eyes and took another calming breath. Breathing; for the last six weeks Liz had been paying her yoga teacher a small fortune to teach her something she had been doing all her life without giving it a moment’s thought. She tried to visualise being at one with the open plain, the rolling woodlands, the mighty ocean, the whole of creation – but all she could think about was getting one over on Suzie.

Bloody woman, bursting in her telling her what to do. Had she any idea how much a marquee cost? Half an hour, my arse, Liz thought furiously. It was going to take her that long to get her foundation right. And no one was going to show up this early, surely?

Breathe.

Anyway, Suzie was such a control freak, Liz couldn’t see her being away for very long. After all, how long did it take to have a shower and towel-dry an unstructured bob for God’s sake?

Liz made the effort to concentrate on her breathing and inner peace and radiant beauty, imagining her body was light as a butterfly and suffused with joy and contentment, at one with the universe.

From somewhere downstairs Liz heard the doorbell ringing.

‘Bugger it,’ she spat as her eyes snapped open.

*

‘My new shoes have got to be here somewhere,’ said Suzie, coming up for air after a prolonged hunt under her side of the bed. ‘This is absolutely ridiculous. Where the hell are they? They can’t just have disappeared. I put them in the bottom of the wardrobe, I know I did.’

‘So why are you looking under the bed?’ asked Sam, who was busy towelling his hair dry.

‘Because they’re not in the wardrobe, I’ve looked.’

‘Are you sure?’

‘Of course I’m sure. I’ve had everything out,’ she said, pointing to a jumble of things piled up on the bedroom floor. ‘They’ve got to be here somewhere; shoes just don’t vanish.’

The family cats sat on the bed and watched with considerable interest as Suzie folded back the duvet and dived under the bed again. So far she’d found a stray trainer, a vacuum cleaner attachment, a sprinkling of coat hangers, some spilt cotton buds, enough fluff to re-carpet the sitting room – but no shoes. Still wrapped in her towel, Suzie sat back on her heels.

‘They’re brand new, they’re in a box, they’re peacock-blue silk. I mean, where the hell could they have got to?’

‘Well, don’t look at me,’ said Sam, busy sorting out his own clothes. ‘I’m not into high heels.’

‘They’re not that high,’ she said, not bothering with the joke. ‘They’re just gorgeous and I bought them specially and I haven’t got anything else that goes with my new dress.’

He looked at her sceptically. ‘You must have something else you can wear . . .’

‘Well, I haven’t. All I’ve got are flip-flops, sensible dog-walking shoes, gardening boots and wellies. The only other pair of going-out shoes I own are the ones I wore with my going-away dress, and how many years ago was that? They’re so out of fashion I’m expecting a call from the V&A any day now.’

‘Don’t have a go at me, I was just saying,’ Sam said, sounding hurt as he headed back towards the bathroom, making Suzie feel guilty that she had snapped at him. She sighed; if she was honest, it wasn’t only Sam’s fault that things weren’t great between them. She had too many secrets to make life easy for either of them.

Suzie also knew that if she had worn her old shoes to the party, Sam wouldn’t have said a word, and even after all these years she couldn’t decide whether that was because he just didn’t notice or he just didn’t care. He always used to say that he loved her just the way she was, which in one way was wonderful, but as time had gone on – and particularly at the moment, when things between them were so tense – Suzie had begun to feel less certain. There was a very fine line between acceptance and indifference.

Giving up on the shoes, she took her new outfit out of the wardrobe and held it up against herself. It was a rich Persian blue, beautifully slimming, beautifully cut, column dress, with a little matching jacket that had cost a small fortune even though it had been in the sale. She ran her fingers over the fabric. With her job and the girls growing up it had been so long since Suzie had bought anything really nice for herself. She turned to look in the mirror to gauge the effect. The colour brought out the deep blue of her eyes and looked lovely against her lightly tanned skin. It had been a great choice.

And okay, so it was more than twice what Suzie had ever paid for an outfit before, but she had needed something new, something special for tonight and Sam could hardly complain – she was earning her own money these days, proper money, not peanuts. Now that she was more successful it was time she started to make more of an effort, that was what Matt had said. ‘Dress for success,’ he had said, and if this dress was anything to go by, success was a foregone conclusion.

Seeing her sister Lizzie, even when she was dressed down, had made Suzie feel dowdy and plain, so she was even more pleased that she had made the effort to find something special to wear for the party.

She and Sam had been together so long that she wondered if he still really noticed that she was a woman. Not that Suzie had ever been a girlie girl and these days working in the garden all day meant that she had a lot of checked shirts and jeans and hands that said more about manual labour than manicures.

But all that was going to change if Matt had his way.