Well Groomed (67 page)

‘Are there any more crisps, Mum?’ Rufus was shouting.

‘The thing is . . .’ Tash tried again.

‘Can I have a spritzer as Rufe’s on lager, Mum?’ asked India. ‘You look fantastic, Tash. I love those jeans.’

Ted and Gus were arguing loudly about whose turn it was to check the horses, and Stefan was trying to talk over them as he told Niall that one of the camera cranes had collapsed on Hugo’s conservatory that night.

‘Niall and I have decided that perhaps . . .’

‘Can everyone get out of here while I cook!’ yelled Zoe. ‘It’s a mad-house. I can’t even reach the Aga.’

Moments later, Niall was ushering everyone, including Tash, out of the room.

‘I was trying to tell them,’ she hissed as he pushed her out.

‘Jesus, not now – not tonight!’ He looked horrified. ‘We’ll have enough of a job on our hands trying to explain that Hugo’s place isn’t a hotel. For Christ’s sake don’t complicate things more. For my mother’s sake, Tash, I’m begging you!’ He sounded absolutely desperate.

Tash had little chance anyway, as Ma marched into the Moncrieffs’ messy sitting room and immediately settled herself between India and Rufus on the best sofa, delighting them with outlandish and much-embellished tales of Niall at their age. Tash was glad that he wasn’t around to listen in. She had heard most of the stories before on their visit last year, and they were grossly unflattering and largely untrue. Mercifully, Niall appeared to have stayed in the kitchen with Zoe, and wasn’t around to hear.

Matty had cornered Sally by the long dresser at the gloomy far end of the room and was conducting a low, animated conversation with her as he told her his news. From her roaming eyes and bored expression, Tash had a feeling that Sally wasn’t as delighted by the break as her brother had anticipated. She looked mildly put out, if anything.

Tash busied herself helping Gus to get everyone drinks, and finally settled beside Stefan who was lounging like a long piece of string on the broken-legged sofa, with an adoring Wally washing his hands. Enid was no doubt hiding in the bathroom, her favoured retreat during social gatherings.

‘I thought Kirsty would be here,’ he said sadly. ‘But Ted says she’s gone out for a pizza with Franny tonight.’

‘I don’t think she fancied seeing Hugo and Lisette, to be honest,’ Tash whispered, knowing exactly how the buxom Scot felt.

‘Whyever not?’ Stefan looked confused, pale lashes batting.

Tash bit her lip, remembering that Penny had been gossiping only that morning about the fact he had a huge crush on Kirsty at the moment. ‘Oh, no reason.’ She watched as Sally started to snarl something to Matty in an undertone.

‘You got back okay today, huh?’ He smiled at her.

‘Oh, yes, fine.’ Tash dragged her eyes away from her brother and sister-in-law’s argument and felt her face colouring. ‘So – er—’ She searched around for a change of subject, watching as Matty stormed out of the room to fetch another drink, his face set with irritation. ‘What do you think of Niall’s mother?’

‘She’s totally mental,’ said Stefan simply, adding in an undertone, ‘Hugo thought she was a stray loon, or some sort of practical joke set up by the film crew, but she’s completely convinced the place is a hotel. Is the rest of the family like that?’

‘Mostly.’ Tash nodded.

He started to giggle delightedly. ‘Your wedding is going to be hysterical.’

‘Hugely funny, yes.’ Not noticing how closely he was observing her face, Tash watched as Sally wandered over, looking surprisingly perky despite her husband’s recent huffy exit. Her usually scruffy hair had been slicked back into a satin clip, emphasising her merry eyes and shapely neck, already glowing pinkly from several gin and tonics at Haydown. Her soft, angora dress – absurdly fashionable – was far too hot for the close summer evening, making her cheeks flame with colour like a naughty schoolgirl who’s just hidden a toad in her room-mate’s sock drawer.

‘Darling Tash, you look as overdressed as me – and almost as trendy. We must both be sweat-shopaholics.’ She perched on the arm next to Stefan and scratched Wally’s nose. ‘We never see you at the shoot – I thought you’d be up every day checking that Niall’s behaving himself, which he isn’t, as always.’ She winked cheerfully. ‘Always sloping off to see you instead. Lisette’s furious.’ She brushed a few imaginary dog hairs from Stefan’s shoulder. It was a curious gesture, which Tash couldn’t quite figure out – part habit, part mother, and yet indicating a flirty intimacy that surprised her.

But she was too distracted by what Sally had just said to dwell on it long.

Half tempted to say that Niall had not been sloping off to see her – to the pub was far more likely – she buttoned her tongue and offered Sally another drink.

‘Wine, please – and could you check that Matty’s okay? He was in his usual stinky mood just now.’

‘He seemed quite cheerful earlier,’ Tash said in surprise.

But Sally was already distracted chatting with Stefan and sliding in beside him on the sofa now that Tash had stood up and released a space. ‘Did he?’ she muttered vaguely, long after Tash had left.

In the kitchen, Niall was sitting at the table with a now furiously moody Matty and the scotch bottle whilst Zoe chopped up salad beside the sink, cursing Hugo for being so late.

‘What are he and Lisette up to, for Christ’s sake?’ she moaned. ‘I said eight at the latest – does your mother have a large appetite, Niall? Only I’m going to have to stretch the salmon.’

‘Huge, she’ll think it’s a whitebait.’ Niall smiled up at Tash. ‘Okay, angel?’

‘Fine.’ She headed for the fridge to fetch more wine, longing to corner him and demand that they make an announcement together.

‘Knowing Hugo and Lisette, they’ll be in bed,’ Matty said acidly, his earlier good mood absolutely shot to pieces now.

Her head in the fridge, Tash found her nose pressed to a very musty cauliflower, heart racing.

‘Rubbish!’ Niall scoffed. ‘He and Lisette aren’t involved – I should know.’

‘Really? So you keep tabs on them throughout the working day, do you?’ Matty muttered, anger coming to the boil. ‘Come off it, Niall, it’s not as though you have a claim on her anymore. Like you keep saying, you’re marrying Tash in a fortnight. And I get the impression from Sals that Lisette’s finally got her claws into Hugo’s back each night and is drawing blue blood.’

‘Well, she’s lying then,’ Niall said cheerfully, not rising to the jibe. ‘The reason I should know is because Lisette is currently shacked up with David Wheaton – they’re even sharing a room in the hotel, for Christ’s sake, although they’ve got two booked for form. I hardly see her sloping back to Haydown for a nightcap with Hugo when she and David have only been together a month, do you?’

‘It wouldn’t be out of character,’ Matty said nastily, turning to watch his sister with irritated, scornful eyes. ‘Tell me, Tash, are you cooling your face in there, or have you inadvertently become welded to the ice box?’

Re-emerging with a bottle of wine, she found that her face, despite the icy chill of the fridge, was burning.

‘Are you feeling okay, angel?’ Niall watched her with concern.

Gripping the work surface for support, Tash stood up and nodded. She was so relieved to find out that Hugo wasn’t sleeping with Lisette after all that she wanted to run around the room kissing everyone. Whilst Niall and Zoe probably wouldn’t mind, she had a feeling that it would finish her brother off. She felt almost giddy, and hopelessly confused. She simply had to force Niall to come clean tonight. He was already half-cut, and leaving it any longer would just compound the awfulness of their ridiculous pretence.

‘I think Niall and I should get a couple of things straight.’ She cleared her throat loudly. ‘And you two should perhaps be the first to know.’

Niall shot her a warning look. Opposite him Matty was knocking back scotch – he normally never touched it – and glaring at her witheringly, as though she was about to announce a change in bridesmaids or something equally petty.

‘What’s that, Tash?’ Zoe was transferring pans across the Aga lids, her hands buried in oven mitts. Tash couldn’t tell whether her face was flaming from the rising heat or because she had guessed what Tash was about to announce and was quietly, sympathetically embarrassed for her, but she looked likely to combust.

Clutching the cool bottle tightly to her blue shirt, Tash looked at her brother’s clever, nervy face and gave him an apologetic smile that wobbled so much she had to bite her lip. He glared back unsympathetically, but she launched on anyway, determined to get it over with.

‘You were right all along, Matty,’ she started, her voice croaking with the effort of at last coming clean. ‘You always were the cleverest of the bunch. When we were in France, Niall and I decided that we—’

‘I am not going to be your fucking best man!’ Matty exploded furiously.

‘I’m not talking about that,’ Tash bleated. ‘Well, I am, but not like you think . . .’

‘Just shut up about you and Niall, okay? I’ve told you my feelings on this bloody marriage,’ he raged on, undeterred, his anger now too explosive to be defused. ‘And right now, tonight, it’s the last thing I want to fucking discuss. I don’t care if you get married anymore – go ahead, get hitched, kill yourselves with unhappiness for all I care. I certainly am.’ He buried his head in his hands, anger evaporating as he descended into his black gloom once more.

The wine bottle was being pressed so hard to Tash’s chest that she was almost cracking her ribs. She glanced desperately at Niall, but he was reaching across to take Matty’s hand, his craggy face wreathed in sympathy.

Tash backed away in confusion. Matty had seemed so cheerful earlier and now he was positively spitting with brooding, wrathful unhappiness. Yet Sally was, apparently, chirpily unaware. Then she remembered her sister-in-law asking her to keep an eye on him and flushed even more guiltily.

‘Sally seems worried about you,’ she told her brother as she frantically fished through the drawers for a corkscrew. ‘She asked me to check you were okay.’

‘How very civil of her,’ he hissed, only just controlling another explosion. ‘I’m surprised she could bear to drag herself away from her Swedish toy boy.’

‘Stefan?’

‘Is that what he’s called?’ Matty shuddered. ‘Sally’s behaving like a bloody sixteen-year-old tease with him tonight, I can’t bear it. She’s only doing it to wind me up, but it still bloody hurts.’

‘Stefan’s probably to blame,’ Zoe told him gently. ‘He’s a terrible flirt, and he’s in a bit of a strop that Kirsty isn’t here.’

‘No, it’s entirely Sally,’ Matty sighed, looking up and rubbing his mouth sadly. ‘Listen, I’m sorry for being such a self-pitying jerk, but I’m at my wits’ end. I can’t do anything right at the moment. I keep expecting a divorce petition to land on the doormat.’

‘Are things really that bad?’ Niall asked in horror, pouring Matty another vast scotch and an even larger one for himself.

‘Worse if anything. Why d’you think I came here tonight? I’m clutching at straws like a faulty combine harvester. She hasn’t called all week – now she summons me down to rub my face in it and make me look a fool. And it’s all my fault for mentioning . . .’ He cleared his throat uncomfortably and glanced at Zoe. ‘For mentioning what – er – happened.’

‘You did what?’ Niall was appalled.

‘She was laying into me, saying how useless and apathetic I was, and I just snapped – I blurted something stupid about almost embarking on an affair. I suppose I wanted her to realise how much she was taking for granted.’ Matty clammed up embarrassedly.

‘But it wasn’t as bad as that!’ Zoe gasped, abandoning the dill she was chopping.

‘I know. I’m sorry.’ He looked up at her pleadingly. ‘I didn’t mention any names.’

Listening in, Tash had pulled the cork so badly that most of it was now floating around in the bottle. It was incredible enough that her brother had been the mystery man who had engaged Zoe in a long, flirtatious kiss at the Moncrieffs’ barbecue two summers ago. But what was harder to get to grips with was the extraordinary way she and Niall were now talking Matty through it. They sounded like Richard and Judy gently working out a distraught caller’s marital crisis during a This Morning phone-in.

‘Perhaps you should have done,’ Niall was telling Matty. ‘Sometimes you have to stick your neck out to find out that your head’s not going to get cut off after all.’

‘If she knew the whole picture, she might stop trying to pay you back,’ Zoe added gently. ‘After all, it was terribly innocent. At the moment her imagination must be running riot.’

‘You’re right,’ Matty groaned. ‘She’s playing games, and that’s one thing she’s never done before – we’ve always tried to be die-straight with one another when we’ve hit a rocky patch. I’m certain Lisette is to blame – the marriage guidance counsellor from hell. She’s just counselling us down the river.’

‘Talking of which . . .’ Zoe craned towards the window. ‘Here they are – Christ, Hugo drives fast.’

‘Shit.’ Matty rubbed his face with the palms of his hands as though trying to get some colour back into it. ‘I bet she’ll just love seeing me like this.’

‘Don’t let her then,’ Niall said quickly. ‘Put on a front.’

‘You’d know all about that, wouldn’t you?’ Matty looked at him with a sad smile.

‘I’ll give you tips.’ He stood up. ‘I think I’d better go and stand by my mother in case she accuses Hugo of leaving the hotel unstaffed or something. I wouldn’t put it past her to provoke a punch up.’

He wandered out, followed by a despondent-looking Matty.

Still fishing cork out of her wine bottle, Tash looked up at Zoe and paused, desperate to talk, however bad her legendary lousy timing was. Standing directly beneath an angled kitchen spot light, Zoe was whisking dill mayonnaise now, blonde hair gleaming almost white. In the silver dress, she looked ethereal and angelic.