Thinking of You (14 page)

“Here he is.” Ginny was standing with Finn. Proudly she introduced Perry.

“Hi. Good to meet you.” Shaking Finn's hand, Perry said, “Sorry to be so long. I got chatting to someone I know.”

Ginny said gaily, “That's nothing. I've been chatting to lots of people I
don't
know, telling them why they should come to Penhaligon's! One couple is going to book a table for next week; they're looking for somewhere to hold their daughter's wedding reception.”

“Wedding receptions.” Perry shuddered. “Sorry, my idea of hell. Kids running around screaming, babies crying… do you have children?”

“No.” Finn's jaw was taut.

“Sensible man. Don't go there. Can't see the attraction myself. Everyone tells you kids change your life… well, I don't want to change mine, thanks very much. I'd rather keep it just the way it is. Who needs all that grief?”

“Probably not the best thing to say,” murmured Ginny when Finn had excused himself and moved away to resume his conversation with the luscious brunette. “His girlfriend had a baby last year. Finn assumed it was his, but it wasn't. She ended up leaving him and going off with the baby's father.”

“That's what I call a lucky escape. Oh, come on; don't look at me like that.” Perry grinned and slid his arm round her. “Kids aren't my thing, that's all. And trust me, there's nothing worse than a broody woman. I mean, look at Laurel. Half the reason she's taking this whole Kevin thing so badly is because she thinks she won't find another man before it's too late. Her hormones are in panic mode, flying around like headless chickens.” He gave her waist a squeeze. “That's what I like about you.”

“What? That my hormones are flying around like headless chickens?”

“That they
aren't
.” Perry's green eyes glinted with amusement. “You and Laurel are the same age, but you've already done your bit, got the whole breeding thing out of your system. Don't get me wrong; I think it's great that you have a daughter. I'm just not interested in having any myself.”

“You sound exactly like Carla.”

“God, don't tell me there's something we actually agree on. I'm not sure I'm happy about that.”

“Carla's all right.” Ginny so badly wanted the two of them to get along. “Wait till you get to know her better.”

Perry pulled a face. “I'd rather not.”

“Don't be mean. She's my best friend.”

“She's a viper. Anyway, why are we wasting time talking about her? I haven't even kissed you yet.”

With this audience? Alarmed, Ginny squeaked, “You can't do that in here!”

“I know, I'm not a complete heathen.” Keeping his arm around her waist, Perry steered her through the crowded ballroom, acknowledging an unsmiling Carla with a friendly nod as they passed her in conversation with a potential client. “That's why I thought we might take a walk around the grounds.”

“It's dark out there. I'll trip over something and land flat on my face.”

“You won't, there's a full moon. And the gardens are floodlit.” Opening the doors that led outside, Perry ushered her through. “Hang on to me. I won't let you fall.”

Ginny loved the way he said it, like James Bond would. It made her feel safe.

***

Carla couldn't help herself. When she saw Finn Penhaligon at the bar, she went over and stood next to him. He raised an eyebrow in recognition.

“Can I ask you something?” God, her stomach was in knots. “What do you think of Ginny's bloke?”

“I only spoke to him for a minute. I don't like to make snap judgments about people.” Pausing, Finn said, “Although in his case I'll make an exception.”

“And?”

His tone was contemptuous. “The man's an arse.”

This was what Carla wanted to hear. She picked up a cocktail stick and snapped it in half.

“And?” Finn mimicked lightly. Funny how such an outwardly attractive man could have zero effect on her, whereas… oh God, don't even go there, don't even
think
about Perry Kennedy.

Carla nodded and reached for another cocktail stick to snap. “I think so too.”

***

The music was bouncing off the walls of the flat, making the floor vibrate. A rumbustious game involving seeing how long you could balance an open can of lager on your head before it fell off was in progress in the living room, with much shoving and spillage going on. The carpet was drenched and empty cans were strewn everywhere. Jem, watching as one of Rupert's friends tackled another to the ground—splat—felt sorry for the cleaners from the agency when they arrived tomorrow to clear up.

A hand on her bottom made her jump. His mouth brushing her ear, Rupert murmured, “What are you thinking?”

“That if this lot are planning to sleep on this floor tonight, they might drown.”

“Their problem, not mine. Are you wearing any knickers?”

“Yes!” Jem wriggled as his warm fingers roamed over the back of her jeans.

“Shame. Hey, no one would notice if we slipped away for a few minutes. Fancy a quickie?”

“We can't do that.” Jem turned and grinned at him. “It's not polite to abandon your guests.”

“Bugger the guests. It's my party, and I'll shag if I—”

“Rupert, can you do something about Tilly and Marcus?”

This time Jem jumped because Lucy had appeared out of nowhere behind them. Gazing hard at Rupert, she went on, “They've locked themselves in the bathroom and there are people desperate for the loo.”

“Great minds think alike,” Rupert whispered in Jem's ear before levering himself away from the wall. “OK, I'll go and sort them out. Spoil their fun.”

When he'd gone, Lucy said in an odd voice, “What was Rupert saying to you?”

Oh God, surely she couldn't have overheard. Awkwardly, Jem said, “Nothing. We were just talking about the carpet getting wet with all the beer being spilled. Like that.” She nodded across the room as another can of lager went flying, spraying froth.

“It didn't look like that to me.” Lucy's hands were thrust stiffly into the front pockets of her low-slung jeans. “The way you were whispering together.”

Jem's mouth was dry. At least Lucy hadn't seen Rupert groping her; thank goodness he'd been discreet.

“And did he have his hand on your backside?”

“No… well, he was just mucking around,” Jem stammered. “It didn't mean anything.”

Lucy frowned. “Is there something going on between you and Rupert?”

See? It was clearly bothering her. This was exactly why she couldn't admit the truth.

“
No
.” Jem looked astounded. “God, are you serious? No way! I can't believe you even thought that.”

There, was that convincing enough? Exuding innocent outrage, she held her ground and prayed Lucy wasn't about to whip out a lie detector.

“OK,” Lucy said levelly. “But you'd tell me if there was, wouldn't you?” Her words were brittle, like dry sticks. “I mean, I'd want to know.”

Of course she would. And if she did find out? Then the easy, happy atmosphere in the flat would be spoiled, Lucy would feel like a third wheel, and the next thing you know, she'd be moving out.

Jem didn't want that to happen. Lucy was her closest friend here in Bristol and a perfect flatmate.

“I'd tell you if there was anything going on,” said Jem, “but there isn't, I promise. Crikey, I'm not nearly posh enough for Rupert!”

A faint smile tugged at the corners of Lucy's mouth. “You could be his bit of rough.”

“Charming!” Relieved that the interrogation was over, Jem pretended to tug at one of her friend's gaudy earrings. “Speak for yourself.”

Lucy grinned back, equally relieved. “Can you smell sausages burning?”

Jem could. It was a wonder the smoke alarm hadn't gone off. Thankful that the crisis had been averted and eager to please, she said, “You've done loads of cooking; I'll take over in the kitchen now.”

“And we need more onions chopping up.”

“Fine, I'll do it.”

Lucy tilted her head to one side and said lightly, “Guilty conscience?”

“No!” Jem made an attempt to grab her other earring. “As if! I just want first pick of the sausages so I get the ones that aren't burned to a crisp.”

“I took them out of the oven,” said Davy when Jem burst into the kitchen. The trays of sausages were smoldering on top of the hob and Davy, shirt sleeves rolled up, was busy peeling and chopping a mound of onions.

“My hero! I didn't even know you'd arrived!” Jem hugged him, delighted that Davy had been able to make it; following the phone call to her mother earlier, guilt had prompted her to send him a text inviting him to the party. Now she was extra glad she had. “And just in the nick of time too. You saved our sausages!”

“Not all of them. Some are pretty cremated.”

“Trust me, this crowd won't notice. The state half of them are in, they'd eat lumps of coal if we served them up in bread rolls with a squish of ketchup. Here, try one of the unburned ones.” Choosing the best sausage and breaking it in two, she popped half into Davy's mouth and the other half into her own.

Damn, it was hot.

“Aaarrgh.” Jem let out a shriek of pain.

“Yeeesh.” Davy, his hands otherwise occupied with half an onion and a chopping knife, held the sausage clamped between his teeth and waggled it at her like Groucho Marx.

“Hot-hot-hot,” Jem gasped, flapping her arms and hopping from one foot to the other.

“You'll never get off the ground,” drawled Rupert behind her.

“Mmpph.” With her mouth full of sausage, Jem swung round.

Rupert said, “What's he doing here?”

Jem chewed and swallowed, fanning her mouth. “I invited him. And he's helping with the food.”

“Not to mention eating it.”

“I'll write you a check,” Davy said evenly.

“Don't bother, it'd probably bounce. Anyway, I like to do my bit to feed the poor.”

“Rupert! God, you can be such a pig sometimes.” Jem turned to Davy. “He doesn't mean it.”

Drily, Davy said, “Of course he doesn't. Don't worry; I'll leave you to it.”

Jem was alarmed. “You're not going.”

“No.” Having rinsed and dried his hands, Davy smiled at her. “I'm not.”

When he'd left the kitchen, Jem said, “I hate it when you do that.”

Rupert grinned, moved toward her. “But it's fun.”

“It isn't. And you mustn't do that either.” Darting out of reach as he made a playful grab for her, Jem said, “Lucy saw us just now. She's getting suspicious.”

“What did you tell her?”

“That nothing was going on, of course. I said you weren't my type. Which you
aren't
,” Jem added pointedly, “when you're being mean to Davy. If you can't say anything nice about a person, don't say anything at all.”

“Bloody hell, where's the superglue? May as well seal my mouth shut now. God knows how I'll be able to drink.”

Rupert sauntered out and Jem dealt with the rest of the onions. When she rejoined the party twenty minutes later, a limbo contest was in noisy progress in the middle of the room. Rupert was laughing as Lucy collapsed in a heap on the floor. Hauling her to her feet, he had a go himself and somehow—miraculously—managed it. His boisterous friends clapped and roared their approval, finding it something of a challenge to stay on their feet even without the distraction of a limbo pole. Then they roared again, having spotted Jem and her tray of hot dogs. Within seconds they'd descended on her like a pack of wolves.

But friendly wolves, thank goodness. Slapping away a few hands—not all of them after the hot dogs—Jem managed to save three and crossed the room to where Davy was chatting to a plump but pretty brunette.

The girl's name was Suze, Jem discovered, and she was Patty Carson's sister. Patty, on their English course, was currently smooching with one of the rugby boys. Suze, a nurse down from Birmingham for the weekend, seemed glad of Davy's company. Jem gave them each a hot dog and was pleased Davy had found someone nice to talk to.

“Door,” bellowed several people as the bell shrilled, indicating yet more late arrivals. Realizing that no one else was planning to let them in, Jem rolled her eyes and excused herself from Davy and Suze. Task completed, she was about to head back to the party when an ear-splitting crash came from the kitchen.

“Oh, Jem, I'm really sorry.” A red-faced Patty Carson clutched her arm. “Ben came over all masterful and got carried away. We knocked the big glass salad bowl off the kitchen table.”

Patty and Ben, both of them many sheets to the wind, were more of a hazard than a help. After they'd each cut themselves three times, Jem banished them from the kitchen and embarked on clearing up the shards of broken glass herself. It was safer this way for all concerned, plus between them Patty and Ben had used up the last of the plasters.

“Don't come in,” yelled Jem as the door handle turned.

“Only me.” Davy let himself in anyway. “Need a hand?”

A sober hand, what a luxury. Jem nodded gratefully and said, “What about Suze?”

“She's giving Patty a good talking-to. There's a lettuce leaf in your hair, by the way.”

“There's glass and lettuce everywhere. And oil. Mind the floor; it's all slippy with dressing. Patty and Ben looked as if they were having their first skating lesson.” Jem pushed her bangs off her forehead with one elbow. “I had to get them out of here before one of them severed an artery.”

Together they cleared up the mess. When they finally rejoined the party, Rupert was talking to Suze Carson. Picking a bottle of lager out of the tub of melting ice cubes, Davy said, “That's me out of the picture, then.”