The Finishing Touches (29 page)

“Funny,” mused Clemmy. “They don’t mention anything about you living at home with your mum and dad still.”

“I don’t,” sniffed Venetia. “I’ve moved out. Into Luka’s penthouse.”

“Who’s Luka?” demanded Anastasia.

“My
boyfriend
.” Venetia smirked. “He’s an entrepreneur. He has his fingers in
many
pies.”

“You never said!”

“You never asked,” said Venetia. “Anyway, unlike some, I don’t like to bring my private life into class,” she added, with a mean glance toward Divinity, who blushed.

Clemmy leaped on her. “It says in this article that you’ve made some lifelong friends?” she asked, pretending to be confused. “Who are those poor suckers? Is there another class we don’t know about?”

“Stop it!” I said, raising my hands. “Don’t spoil it! This is a wonderful ad for the Academy, better than anything I could have said, and it’s going to make people rush to visit us on Saturday. I’m deeply grateful to you
all
.”

I wasn’t all that grateful to Venetia, letting Adele hijack it like that, making herself look as if she’d masterminded the entire redirection, but I tried to let that pass. I knew that the more little pinpricks of doubt I let Adele shove into my self-confidence, the harder I’d find it to put on my confident front for the Open Day.

I needed all the confidence I could get, because I wasn’t just pretending to be a management consultant anymore. I was pretending to be an etiquette expert, and a confident woman, and someone who wasn’t acutely aware that she’d stirred up the past and now had to deal with whatever it decided to throw back at her.

In four days’ time.

Before I arrived at Halfmoon
Street first thing on Saturday morning, I did something Franny used to do for me before big occasions—I stopped at a flower stall and picked up a small bouquet for each of the girls, as a thank-you for helping out.

I chose the flowers carefully, out of habit. Franny and I had had a running joke about the old-fashioned
language of flowers
that was still part of the Home Enhancement class; I knew all the different messages you could send with red roses and white lilies. Unfortunately, the language of flowers was somewhat monosyllabic the week before Valentine’s Day in central London, and the best I could come up with were yellow tulips (“You have sunshine in your smile!”) and some pink rosebuds (for “thankfulness”). I avoided yellow carnations (“You have disappointed me!”) because who wouldn’t be disappointed, frankly, with petrol station flowers?

As I let myself in, I was pleased to see the lion’s head knocker was now gleaming again. Kathleen turned up her nose at what she called “spray and go” cleaners, and her gift to the Open Day had been to arrange for some “proper ladies” to blitz the place first thing. I could tell they’d been there from the crisp smell of recently polished tiles as soon as I opened the door. The boxes of lilies I’d ordered had been left on the back step, and I arranged them quickly in the big urns, running through lists in my head as my fingers automatically stripped the stems and clipped off the pollen-heavy stamens, letting their heady scent fill the entrance hall.

The peaceful atmosphere in the house helped me concentrate, and I was almost startled when the silence was broken by the arrival of Clemmy, Divinity, and Anastasia. I could hear a distant cackling from some way down the street, and though I hoped it wasn’t them making the racket, I didn’t mind so much when they crashed through the front door and came to a flattering halt on seeing me.

I was wearing the outfit Liv had picked out for me, and I had to hand it to her, I
felt
amazing.

“Wow! You look hot!” said Divinity, overcome with honesty.

“That color is so good on you,” agreed Clemmy. “It’s like you’ve had surgery or something.”

“But obviously you haven’t,” Divinity corrected her, then looked confused. “Unless you have?”

“Always best to assume
not
, unless the person offers the information,” I said. “You look pretty fantastic yourselves!”

Liv had been firm but fair about their various strengths and weaknesses, and they’d actually listened. Clemmy looked sophisticated in a red swing jacket and matching miniskirt, with her thick bangs cut just above her eyes, and Anastasia had dressed up her bouclé shift dress with a glittery selection of
paste-looking brooches, which probably weren’t paste. Divinity, as ever, looked like a doll in a floaty black dress and cobwebby tights.

“Well, wanted to look nice,” said Divinity. “Seeing as how there might be cameras.” She dropped her voice. “I’ve made sure not to wear white underwear with my black top, like you said.”

“Smart move,” I said. “You all look adorable. Ooh, have you seen the special delivery?” I pointed to the hall table, where I’d put the flowers. They shrieked in delight and scrambled over to see who had what.

“Are these from Mr. O’Hare?” Divinity wondered aloud. “Or Lord Phillimore?”

“You wish,” snorted Clemmy, then turned to me. “It’s from you, isn’t it? Aw. Thanks.”

“Good morning, ladies!” Miss McGregor arrived with Mrs. Angell in a cloud of hair spray and newly set hair, with Paulette close behind. “Flowers! How delightful! Have you pricked the stems, girls? Now, what kind of vase would be best for tulips?”

“I don’t think we have time for flower arranging,” I said, checking my watch. “I wanted to run through a couple of things before anyone arrived. Has anyone seen Miss Thorne? Or Venetia?”

“I wouldn’t wait for Venetia,” said Anastasia. “I doubt if she’s going to make it today. She told us she had something verrry important on last night.”

“Wouldn’t say what,” added Divinity.

“Which means it was
nothing
,” said Clemmy sarcastically. “She’s such a
fantasist
.”

“It doesn’t matter,” I said, before they could get going.

The big clock in the hall began to chime, and I was suddenly very conscious of all the things I needed to do before the Old Girls—no, before the
guests
—arrived.

“Anyway, girls, there’s something I wanted to say to you before—” I stopped, hearing the door open.

“Sorry, am I late?” Jamie inquired. “Tell me I haven’t missed the big speech!”

I had to hand it to him: he could make an entrance. The girls’ heads—and Miss McGregor’s and Mrs. Angell’s—turned like a chorus line as he strode in, slipping his double-breasted coat off his shoulders and unwinding his scarf from his neck and smiling broadly at everyone. At which point they smiled one after the other, again, like a chorus line.

Jamie always dressed as if he was off to, or just back from, some VIP party, but this morning he’d aimed for something more respectable than fashionable. The effect made me swallow in surprise. He’d put on his most sober gray suit, the one Liv had forced him to buy when she thought she was getting married to Lachlan the landowning laird—although Jamie hadn’t bothered with a tie, and his blue shirt was open at the throat, revealing a sexy, tanned hollow.

What really sent my blood racing was his damp hair, teddy-bear brown where it hadn’t quite dried yet into the familiar blond—there was something intimate and vulnerable about it, as if he’d been in the shower just minutes ago. It curled round his ears, just inviting someone to push it back.

“Morning, Betsy,” he said with a quick wink.

I opened my mouth, but it had gone very dry and nothing came out.

Behind Jamie, looking quietly amused, was Mark. He was wearing the suit he’d worn for the memorial service, and if Jamie hadn’t been there stealing the oxygen in the room, I’d have thought Mark hadn’t scrubbed up too badly. His thick black hair was maybe in need of some styling intervention and he was wearing his horrible tie again, but he was rubbing his
chin with a wry Clark Kent–ishness that made up for his sartorial shortcomings.

“You’ve all gone very quiet,” Mark observed. “Were you talking about us?”

“No, you haven’t missed anything,” I said, pulling myself together. “I was just about to start. Come in and settle down.”

“I’m on coat duty.” Paulette pushed forward with more enthusiasm than she’d shown when I’d allocated her the job the previous day. “Give us your coats. Oh, this is very nice quality,” she added, hanging Jamie’s cashmere overcoat up. “And this one—is this your school coat, Mark? Or are you a part-time Paddington Bear impersonator? Eh?”

“There’s no need to critique the guests’ coats, Paulette,” I warned.

“It’s warm for cycling,” said Mark. “I won’t have a word said against it.”

“You’ll have to get Olivia to style you,” said Divinity, in all seriousness. “She’s going to be teaching a makeover session, showing people how to update their wardrobes. I’m helping, and we need volunteers. We could workshop you this afternoon…” She patted his arm. “Don’t worry. We’ll soon have you up to scratch.”

“Sorry, can I get a word in?” I asked. “Before you use up all your advice on the staff?”

“Pray silence for the Head of Common Sense,” bellowed Jamie, and everyone went very quiet.

“I just wanted to say thank you,” I began. “I’ve asked a lot of you in the last few weeks, and you’ve been more supportive and helpful than I could ever have—”

The door swung open again, and I ground to a halt, this time with a sinking heart.

In a formation not unlike Charlie’s Angels, in strode Miss
Thorne, Venetia, and Adele, each looking more smug than the last. They stopped just inside the foyer, Venetia in the middle. Adele had the most enormous armful of white roses under one arm and wore a giant pair of D&G shades that she left on until the last moment—the Height of Rudeness, as she ought to have known from her notebook.

Then again, maybe Adele needed them to defend her eyes against the dazzling self-satisfaction radiating from Miss Thorne. I’d never seen her looking so pleased with herself. Not only was she replendent in a black dress with a white Peter Pan collar, but she was wearing four strands of pearls along with matching earrings, which probably signified Grand Etiquette High Wizard status.

“Oh, I hope we’re not interrupting?” she cooed, knowing from my open mouth and everyone’s expression that she was.

“Not at all,” I lied politely.

“Girls,” said Miss Thorne, ignoring me and clapping her plump white hands together. “I have an announcement to make. Or rather,
Venetia
has an announcement to make!”

Venetia didn’t say anything but slowly removed her soft suede gloves like a very upmarket stripper—at which point her left hand spoke for itself in the international language of gigantic engagement rocks.

“Bloody hell,” gasped Paulette, speaking what everyone else was only thinking. “It’s enormous!”

“Mmm,” murmured Venetia in modest agreement, and pushed a thick hank of hair away from her face, all the better to show off the diamond solitaire. It was roughly the size of one of Miss McGregor’s quail’s eggs.

“Oh, my God!” shrieked Divinity generously. “Oh, my God, you’ve got engaged!”

Anastasia went over to Venetia, clasping her in a warm Russian hug. “Congratulations,” she said. “It is beautiful diamond.
Have you had it insured? I have a friend whose finger was sliced off at the traffic lights. And it was only an emerald.”

“Who is it?” Clemmy demanded. “Anyone we know?”

“I shouldn’t think so, Clemmy,” said Adele half-jokingly. “Venetia’s not into the Goth circuit.”

“Luka, like I told you the other day. He’s a political donor and international businessman,” Venetia explained. Her eyes were glittering brighter than her solitaire. “And a close friend of Adele’s. We met at…we met at a charity dinner.”

“And how did he propose?” Divinity looked ready to swoon. “Did he go down on one knee?”

“I should think that’s Venetia’s job,” muttered Clemmy.

“Did he ask your father first?” demanded Anastasia. “Was it like in Miss McGregor’s proposal lesson? Did he agree to a dowry? What did your mum and dad say?”

Venetia looked discomfited for the first time; just for a fleeting second her hair fell over her face and I couldn’t see her eyes.

“Yes, it was terribly romantic.” Adele leaped in. “Venetia, tell Divinity about the proposal!”

“Luka asked me if I wanted him to put me on the insurance for his Ferrari. And I said yes.”

“It was his vintage one,” Adele added. “Of course, no one’s allowed to drive it, but it’s the principle of trust!
Quel
romance!”

“Oh, and then he put this ring in a chocolate mousse last night,” Venetia added. “I almost didn’t see it, because I don’t eat refined sugars, and the waiter nearly walked off with a hundred grand’s worth of pudding.”

“That’s dead romantic!” gasped Divinity.

“I can’t believe you’re here,” said Clemmy. “I wouldn’t be. Hasn’t he swept you off in his private jet to celebrate?”

“Businessmen can’t take time off just like that,” Adele re
minded her. “And Venetia was very keen to come and help out with Betsy’s Open Day. She’s a perfect example of just what sort of doors can be opened to you with the right attitude.”

Bedroom doors mostly, I thought, but didn’t say anything. I was too busy struggling with a toxic cocktail of emotions, and hoping they weren’t showing on my face.

“It’s a wonderful moment for the Academy,” said Miss Thorne, patting Adele’s hand. “Just goes to show that the traditional values of femininity are still appreciated by the men out there! I think you’ll find this will have a very
positive
effect on intake for next term,” she added, with a meaningful glance at me.

“We have to make some phone calls,” said Adele, “so will you excuse us from your…whatever you’re doing?” She pretended to pause. “Oh, and if Lord Phillimore arrives, don’t tell him, will you? I want it to be a surprise!”

A surprise? Why on earth would
he
care?

Then the three of them swept off to the principal’s office, leaving the rest of us staring at our tulips, which now seemed rather underwhelming.

“Never mind,” said Paulette in an attempt at jollity. “Maybe she’ll ask you to be bridesmaids!”

The three girls turned to her with looks that would have wilted the old plastic lilies in the urn.

“All I’ll say,” said Clemmy, holding up one finger, “is can you imagine what she’d make us wear?”

We stood imagining in silence, listening to the trio of stiletto heels clatter down the hall, then disappear in the thick pile of the study, whereupon tinkly laughter could be heard.

Mark coughed discreetly. “So what were you going to say, Betsy? Before the interruptions?”

I dragged my attention back, but the moment had totally gone.

“Oh, um, I just wanted to say thank you,” I said. “And good luck with all your demonstrations.” I swallowed. “Don’t worry about anything other than being yourselves today, and you won’t go wrong.”

“Marvelous!” said Miss McGregor, acting as if I’d just delivered the Queen’s Speech. “Very wise. I’m sure everyone’s going to give it their best shot, and what will be will be. Now, Paulette, you’re on coats, and Divinity, I understand you’re going to do the checklist for names, aren’t you? Stand up straight, Clementine, you’re sagging, dear.”

We all stood up straight at that, and Jamie gave me a wink that set off a very different burst of fluttering in my stomach.

Ten minutes before the doors were to open, I ran down the stairs to the hall, to prepare myself.

I stopped by the large mirror and smoothed down my hair, checking my face for any tiny smudges and arranging my bee necklace so it sat right in the center of my neckline, like a sign. Would she recognize me without it? I had a name badge pinned to my cardigan, with
Betsy Cooper Phillimore
printed as large as was polite, and if I stayed by the door and saw everyone who was coming in, overseeing Divinity and her checklist, I couldn’t miss her.