CHAPTER EIGHT
Walking through the hotel entrance half an hour later, all my thoughts are with Ellie and her stricken face before I left. Knowing how bad she’s feeling has certainly put my own worries into perspective. Braving the bar in my pole-dancing outfit seems very trivial by comparison.
I wanted to stay with Ellie and help her drink the rest of the bottle, but she was insistent I should go.
‘You can’t miss it,’ she told me firmly. ‘Go and have a great time. We can talk later.’
The reception area of the Swan Hotel is warm and welcoming with winking fairy lights and a tall, lavishly decorated Christmas tree by the window.
A girl behind the desk looks up. ‘Good evening. And Merry Christmas,’ she says with a smile, acknowledging my fancy dress outfit. ‘Can I help?’
‘I’m with the amateur dramatics group. Are they in the bar?’ I point in the direction.
‘Oh.’ She looks a little surprised. ‘Er, yes, through there.’ She smiles. ‘I hope you have a lovely evening.’
‘Thank you.’ I pull up my bodice, smooth down the skirt, wishing it was just a teeny bit longer, then I take a deep breath and head for the bar.
I’ve been here a few times before. It’s an L-shaped room and when I walk in, I’m faced with a lot of empty tables. My group must be sitting round the corner, although it strikes me as odd that I can’t actually hear much chattering. Perhaps no one’s arrived yet.
It would be good if I were one of the first here because if I’m already sitting down when the rest arrive, my costume might not seem quite so over-the-top and showy. I’m looking forward to seeing what everyone else –
Rounding the corner, I stop short in confusion.
The cast all seem to be there. They’ve pulled four or five tables together and they’re all sitting with drinks in front of them, looking quite sombre.
Karen is the first to see me.
Her face is an absolute picture of amazement. As well it might be.
‘Hi, Fen. Oh, wow. Look at you! Gosh, erm, why don’t you come and sit over here?’ She indicates the chair next to her.
I can’t actually move. Some mysterious force seems to be welding my feet to the floor, as a great wash of heat rolls up my entire body.
What the hell is going on?
‘Doesn’t she look fab everybody?’ Karen pats the seat again and glances around with a big beam, as if it’s perfectly normal for me to arrive looking like a complete slapper - when absolutely no one else is wearing fancy dress!
I’m aware of several cast members quickly modifying their expressions, from open-mouthed amazement to pasted-on smiles.
Ethan catches my eye. ‘Very nice, Fen.’ He nods slowly, trailing his eyes from my abundance of cleavage all the way down my body, via the terrible fishnets, to the your-place-or-mine white heels Jaz unearthed from her wardrobe.
I just want to curl up in shame. Or better still, run out of the room and flee the building. But obviously I can’t do that. I have to say something . . .
‘Gosh, everyone looks so solemn,’ I blurt out with a bright smile. ‘Has someone died? Ha-ha-ha!’
There’s a tense silence.
Did I imagine the sudden communal intake of breath?
I stare around in confusion. Then everyone starts talking at once and I slip gratefully into the seat beside Karen.
‘Actually, someone did die,’ murmurs a voice in my ear, making me jump.
It’s Cressida, sitting on my other side.
I stare at her in alarm. ‘What? Who?’
‘Angus Merriweather,’ says Karen. ‘The guy who started up the am dram group back in the seventies. He was a lovely man. A real character. He died a few weeks ago and made provision in his will for us all to go out and toast his memory.’ She smiles. ‘Which is exactly what we’re doing tonight.’
It takes a moment for this to sink in. And when it does, my stomach churns with horror at what I said. Did someone die? God, the shame!
Then I whip round to Cressida. ‘But I thought you said . . .’
Folding her arms, she gives me a look that’s all innocence.
And in a flash, I understand.
Cressida set me up!
It’s so obvious now I think about it. And I can detect a definite whiff of triumph beneath that apparently innocent look of hers.. . .
I remember Ethan pointing at me and Cressida nodding and walking over to tell me the arrangements for Friday night. Except she didn’t tell me the truth – that it’s practically a bloody wake for this poor man, Angus Merriweather. And then I turn up looking like the stag-do entertainment . . .
A shiver of unease runs through me.
Cressida must dislike me very much, although I can’t for the life of me imagine why.
‘So why the outfit, Fen?’ asks Karen. ‘I must say, it does look fabulous on you.’
‘Er, thanks,’ I mumble, aware other people are listening in curiously but pretending not to. ‘I . . . er . . . I’m going on to a party after this. Fancy dress. Obviously.’
‘Oh, great. Lucky you. Come on, let’s get you a drink – courtesy of lovely Angus!’
I’d planned to drink spritzers all night but standing at the bar with Karen, I decide I need something stronger to take the edge of my humiliation.
I usually steer clear of spirits. Once, years ago, under the influence of many vodkas, someone dared me to slink over and say, ‘Hey, sexy’ to the next male who came into the bar. So apparently I did (I have only a hazy memory of it.) Unfortunately, he turned out to be the sweaty, balding middle-aged man who ran the newsagent’s in Sunnybrook.
Even now, he gives me a leery smile whenever he sees me. (I ordered my magazines on-line after that night).
This, however, is an emergency.
‘Vodka and tonic, please,’ I say firmly.
Karen smiles. ‘A double?’
‘Please.’
Leery man was years ago. I’ll be able to handle my drink now. I’m absolutely sure of it.
And actually, the alcohol definitely helps. By the time I’m half-way down my glass, a lovely warm relaxed feeling is spreading through my limbs and I’m chatting away with Karen, Rosalind and Helen, who plays Cinderella’s step-mother.
I’m having such a good time, I’m not even too bothered that Cressida is monopolising Ethan’s attention. She’s squeezed herself next to him on a banquette and is trying to engage him in an intense discussion, ignoring everyone else and managing to look stunning even with her mouth in a sulky pout most of the time.
I get the feeling Ethan feels a little embarrassed by Cressida’s attentions. He’s sitting with his arms folded and listening politely. But whenever I glance over, he catches my eye and manages to convey, with just a tiny movement of his lips, that his patience is wearing thin.
Every time our eyes collide and hold, a little shiver of pleasure wriggles through me.
An hour or so (and three double vodkas) later, I’m feeling nicely mellow. The alcohol has loosened my tongue but in a good way, in that I’m chatting freely to people and not holding back for fear of being boring as I usually do.
I’m still sitting with Karen and the others and we’re having a hilarious discussion about past relationships. Then I offer to get the next round in.
I’m sitting on a stool at the bar, having ordered - and woozily thinking I’d like to have met Angus Merriweather because he sounds so lovely – when suddenly, Ethan plops down on the stool next to me.
‘Where’s the barman?’ he asks.
‘Gone to get fresh supplies of tonic water for my vodka.’
He grins. ‘So you’re drinking the bar dry. I hope that means you’re having a good time?’ he says, and my stomach swoops with desire as he shifts round on his stool so that he’s facing me, his legs brushing mine. He leans one arm on the bar and looks deep into my eyes.
‘I’m having a lovely time, thank you.’ I smile happily at him.
‘Shame you have to leave us.’
His words don’t register for a moment. I’m too busy drinking in his gorgeous features and deliciously spicy cologne, both of which are suddenly so tantalisingly close.
Finally, his words percolate through to my brain. Why does he think I’m leaving?
I stare at him, confused. Am I being sacked from the am dram club? What did I do wrong?
He smiles. ‘The party you’re going on to?’
It takes a moment for my vodka-soaked brain to process this.
‘Ah yes, the party.’
He leans closer. ‘Can I let you into a secret?’ His breath tickles my ear deiciously.
I nod solemnly and he smiles.
‘I was rather hoping you might decide to stay here instead.’
I swallow hard. ‘You were?’
‘I was. Although I must admit I’m very grateful to whoever gave you this party invitation.’
I laugh. ‘Why?’
He shrugs. ‘You wouldn’t have come in fancy dress otherwise. And I have to say I’ve never in my life laid eyes on such a sexy Christmas pudding.’
I giggle happily at the idea as his handsome face swims in front of me. I’m mesmerised by his gorgeous dark eyes and sensuous mouth.
Ethan thinks I’m a sexy Christmas pudding!
I give silent thanks to Jaz who got me this killer outfit. I’ll bake her some of her favourite Chelsea buns as a reward.
Suddenly remembering the rest of the group, I glance back quickly, knowing beady-eyed Cressida will be watching us like a hawk. But then I realise the bar is round the corner and our tables are hidden from view.
‘I’m really glad you joined us tonight, Fen.’ Ethan gazes at me with a wistful expression that makes my heart leap. ‘You know, I miss being in a relationship and doing all those romantic little things like running my lover a bath or massaging her feet. Or treating her to something special like a pampering session or dinner for two at our favourite restaurant.’ He shrugs sheepishly. ‘Daft, I know.’
‘It’s not daft at all,’ I tell him earnestly, trying to steer my mind away from the thought of Ethan massaging my feet. But of course that’s like telling someone not to think about a purple elephant. Suddenly it’s practically all I can think about!
‘I suppose I’ve got to a place in my life where I feel like I want to settle down.’ He smiles deep into my eyes and my stomach flips. ‘I’ve never felt like that before now. But perhaps I just never met the right person before now.’
I swallow hard, my throat suddenly as dry as the inside of a hoover bag.
‘I really like you, Fen,’ he murmurs, gazing at me with an intensity that makes my head spin away to the moon with delight. ‘We need to get together soon. Just you and me.’
‘That would be lovely,’ I murmur, my heart leaping like an Irish dancer. I’d thought he’d forgotten about his offer to take me out. But clearly, he hadn’t.
‘Let’s arrange something on Sunday after the meeting?’ he says.
I nod happily, imagining what Lucinda Loveday (my all-time favourite heroine in a novel) would say to the ruggedly handsome Jed Rock in similar circumstances. But that might be a tad too raunchy for the bar of The Swan Hotel. So instead, I say as calmly as I can, ‘That would be wonderful. I’m free every day after six, except Saturdays when I could do five at a pinch – ’
Ethan’s face falls and I draw back, worried I’m putting him off by sounding too keen.
‘Christ, it’s Alicia.’ He’s staring past my left shoulder into the distance, his handsome face taut with worry. ‘Don’t turn round,’ he hisses, just as I’m turning around.
I catch a glimpse of a pretty, tall, dark-haired girl wearing jeans and boots and a long camel coat. She’s over by the door, glancing around, and doesn’t seem to have spotted us.
Ethan turns round so he’s facing the bar and murmurs, ‘She’s a lovely girl but she’s turned into a bit of a stalker since we broke up a few months ago.’
‘Oh, that’s awful. How long were you together?’
‘Three months.’
‘Oh.’ I look at him in surprise. I got the impression it was a lot longer than that. I’m sure he said a year when he was at the café with the cast that night. I must have misheard him.
He frowns. ‘She just can’t seem to accept our relationship is over. By the end, it was clear we weren’t compatible. Even she could see that. But no matter how many times I talk to her and tell her it was never going to work, she keeps on turning up and haranguing me to explain my feelings in detail.’
‘How did she know you’d be here?’ I whisper, even though Alicia is now nowhere in sight.
He grimaces. ‘She knows all my usual haunts from when we were together.’
‘Does she live in Sunnybrook?’
He shakes his head. ‘Mercifully, no. She has a flat in Guildford.’
I glance furtively at the door. ‘I think she might have gone.’
‘Yeah?’ Ethan’s shoulders slump with relief and my heart goes out to him. It’s never easy when an ex can’t accept its over.
I know this from reading Four Stormy Nights. In the book, which I’ve read at least three times, Rose Adair is followed everywhere by her ex-lover Josh Steel, who can’t believe she no longer loves him. Of course, when Rose is attacked by a stranger one night, Josh is naturally on hand to save her (just round the corner, lurking in a chip shop doorway), so it all ends happily (with Josh in counselling).
Ethan glances round. ‘Oh, bloody hell, she’s still here.’
I follow his gaze and see Alicia heading for the door.
Ethan leans forward and cups my face in his hands, and before I realise what’s happening, his mouth is on mine and he’s kissing me.
I freeze for roughly three seconds before instinct takes over.
Feeling like the shy but stunningly sensual Anoushka Honeytree in One Night of Passion (my go-to book when I need cheering up), I slide my hands round Ethan’s back, feeling the lovely muscles in his broad shoulders, almost falling off my stool in my desire to return his kiss with enthusiasm. Next second I feel his hands firmly around me, lifting me manfully off my perch, and then I’m stumbling the few inches towards him, my mouth still welded to his.
I break away, gasping for breath, to double check the barman hasn’t returned. He hasn’t so I plunge right back into the kiss of my dreams. My feet might be on the ground now as Ethan pulls me against him but my head is spinning away into the atmosphere, en route to another universe entirely.
I’m dimly aware that I’m being used as a shield for Ethan to hide from Alicia, but I’m enjoying the moment far too much to feel even the slightest bit offended - or ashamed of my enthusiastic response.
At last he breaks away. ‘She’s gone. Sorry about that, Fen.’
I shake my head, unable to speak for a moment because I’m desperately trying to catch my breath.
‘Don’t apologise,’ I gasp at last. ‘I’m – er – happy to help out any time.’ I laugh slightly hysterically. Having practically snogged his face off with no inhibitions at all (thank you, vodka and tonic!) I’m suddenly mortified by my forward and very uncharacteristic behaviour.
I blame Anoushka Honeytree . . .
‘I mean, what are friends for?’ I add hastily.
Ethan raises an eyebrow. ‘Friends? After that kiss I think we’re a little more than that, don’t you? And I have a bit of a confession to make.’ His eyes burn into mine. ‘I’ve been wanting to do that for quite a while now, and it definitely wasn’t a disappointment.’
I try to swallow but my throat is bone dry.
All I can do is smile as my heart gallops along with a heady mix of vodka and happy disbelief.
I wasn’t just a human shield so Ethan could avoid Alicia.
He actually wanted to kiss me . . .