‘Oh, Fallon, I’dloveto, but I doubt he’d want to work with me.’
‘Whyever not?’
‘He’s so serious, and although I am too – about my work – I’m not sure he’d trust me enough to go into business with me.’
‘Well, I don’t know him well enough to say, but I do know that you don’t get what you don’t ask for in life.’
‘Maybe. Anyway, let’s not talk any more about work tonight – you’re ready, Miss Honeywood!’
I smiled at her nervously and stood up to look at myself in the mirror. Gazing back was what I can only describe as anenhanced version of me – I looked natural yet glamorous at the same time as if someone had applied some clever filter on a phone, smoothing out all the tiredness, lighting up my skin, plumping my lips and sparking a little fire in my eyes. My hair fell in smooth, shiny waves that curled elegantly onto my shoulders.
‘Wow. Thank you so much. I look…I don’t know, sort of the same but different.’
‘Well, that is exactly what I was aiming for. It’s like I said, you’re a knockout, so you don’t need disguising or changing in any way. Just a little bringing out, maybe.’
I turned and hugged her.
‘Thank you. I’ll just leave some food for Runcible and put my shoes on, then shall we go down?’
‘Yes, people have started arriving. We can make an entrance on the stairs.’
I’d rather be making myself cosy in bed, I thought, as I kissed Runcible goodbye, but maybe the evening would be more exciting than I anticipated.
NINE
As we went downstairs, I was glad to see that, although there were plenty of people in the hallway, they were all looking at each other and not at us. We had an excellent view from the top of the stairs, and I was impressed with what the organisers had achieved in such a short time. Gold shimmered everywhere, and there were cut-outs of every actor who had played Bond, not just the Sean Connery I had seen earlier. People were posing with them for photos, enjoying themselves before they had even reached the main party area. When we got downstairs, I couldn’t resist and stood slinkily next to Roger Moore, his eyebrow arched, while Coco snapped away on my phone.
‘Do you want me to do one of you?’ I asked. ‘Which Bond do you fancy?’
She laughed.
‘Not my thing, I’m afraid. If there’s one of Ursula Andress, though, I’ll be first in line.’
‘Don’t tell my mother that,’ I said in a stage whisper. ‘She met Ursula at a do once and was furious when she didn’t know who the great Jacqueline Honeywood was.’
We giggled and I started to feel more excited about the party, now that I had a friend to go with. We took a glass of champagne– although I was going to take it easy tonight after finally shaking off last night’s headache – and went through to the Great Hall, which had been transformed into a casino, complete with various gaming tables and a mirrored bar.
‘Are these real?’ asked Coco. ‘I can’t imagine the residents of Lingfoss having many skills on the poker table.’
‘They won’t be,’ I replied. ‘I’ve set up a few parties like this, and it’s all just for fun – you get given chips to play with, but the only thing you win is bragging rights.’
‘Sounds good to me,’ she replied. ‘Shall we get stuck in?’
We went over to a table covered with plush red velvet and were each given a pretend thousand pounds’ worth of chips.
‘I’m tempted to put them all on one spin of the roulette wheel,’ I said, ‘but maybe it would be more fun to eke them out. What do you want to try first?’
‘Let’s play blackjack,’ said Coco. ‘At least I can count to twenty-one, which must be something of an advantage.’
We joined some other people at the table and started playing, betting small amounts and promptly losing them. I was just wondering whether to have another turn or try my luck elsewhere when Coco suddenly shouted:
‘Aunt Constance!’
I looked up to see a short, squarely built woman in a brown jacket, flat cap and plus fours – dressed, I assumed, as Goldfinger – approach the table. She smiled broadly when she saw Coco and came over, bending to envelop her in a huge hug.
‘Hello, niece, I wasn’t expecting to see you here. I see Douglas has produced as vulgar a party as ever, but none the less enjoyable for that. Who’s this?’ She peered at me. ‘Your latest?’
‘No, Constance, sadly not. I’m single at the moment. This is Fallon – she’s Jacqueline Honeywood’s daughter.’
