‘I’m so sorry, Annabel, but that is the day of the Christmas Fayre. I think I’ll have far too much to sort out and I wouldn’t want to turn up late and spoil things. I’ll have to say no.’
She pouted.
‘Whata shame. I thought Fallon was helping with the Fayre – can’t she finish things off there and free you up?’
I was tempted to remind her I was standing here, too, but deliberately drawing attention to oneself when wearing floor-length gold sequins seems a littlede trop, so I stayed quiet, waiting to see what Alexander would say. He didn’t know that I was seriously rethinking staying, after my conversation with Mum. Smart as ever, he stayed neutral and didn’t give anything away. It would be nice if I thought that was because he was hoping I would stay, but I suspect he was just using me as some kind of human shield against Annabel’s relentless advances.
‘I couldn’t possibly leave it all up to Fallon,’ he said. ‘Maybe next time. I’m so sorry, but I must go now, I have something important to do that can’t wait.’
He nipped off before she could stop him and, with a final disparaging glance in my direction, she also went, leaving me standing alone and wishing I had some more cheese. I wandered over to find some, and another drink, and came across Constance, tapping her foot as the band played ‘Rockin’ Around the Christmas Tree’.
‘Hi there,’ I said. ‘Not dancing?’
‘I’m frankly torn between the dance floor and this food,’ she said, holding up her plate. ‘I can understand why you’re so successful if this is the sort of bash you usually put on. Top notch.’
‘Thank you. I can’t take any credit for the food, Estelle and Coco did everything, but I’m pleased with the band.’
‘Local lads, Alexander said? Excellent. They could probably even get some of my colleagues on the floor.’
I filled a plate, and we carried on chatting while we ate. We were just contemplating how many puddings we could sample without drawing attention to ourselves when Sam came over.
‘Is everything okay?’ I asked, immediately concerned, as always, that something had gone wrong.
‘With the party, yes,’ he said. ‘It’s going incredibly well, so maybe we should always plan things a week in advance rather than six months? Less time for problems. No, I just had a message from Alexander that something’s up with the Citroën. He was sorry to drag you away from the party, but could you pop over and have a look?’
‘Now? Um…all right, I suppose I can go and see. Do you mind, Constance? We were about to have a dance,’ I added, for Sam’s sake.
‘Well, I’d love to dance,’ he said. ‘Everything’s going smoothly, so I think I can join you for a boogie, if you’d like to?’
‘Like to, young man? Just try and stop me!’ Constance boomed, dragging him off.
Grinning, I put down my glass and started weaving through the partygoers and out of the Great Hall. It wasn’t far to go, but the night was freezing, so I grabbed my coat and then headed over to the outbuildings, picking my way over the gravel in my heels and hoping I wouldn’t be long: partly because it was so cold and partly because I wasn’t sure how much time I wanted to spend alone with Alexander being polite and distant whilst resisting throwing my arms around him and admitting I’d made a horrible mistake.
TWENTY-SEVEN
I hobbled around to the outbuilding where the Citroën was kept and saw that the hatch was open and all the fairy lights were blazing merrily. What on earth was Alexander doing in the garage on the night of his father’s engagement party: having some sort of pre-run? Why couldn’t it have waited until the next day? It was true, of course, that I was meant to be going in the morning; maybe he had wanted to check everything was set up properly before he was on his own. As I got closer, thankfully now on solid concrete rather than gravel or grass, I saw that there were two wicker armchairs standing outside the van, draped in furry blankets, then I noticed Alexander emerging from the back door.
‘Nice touch,’ I called to him. ‘Is this something you’re thinking of for the Christmas Fayre? Nicer than the bistro tables and chairs, but you won’t be able to fit many in.’
I saw now that he was holding two extremely pretty cocktails, in crystal glasses. They were a soft amber colour, with little flecks of gold floating in them, and golden sugar around the rims. He handed one to me and gestured for me to sit down which I did, gratefully. He raised his glass.
‘Cheers. Thank you for coming.’
‘Cheers. That’s fine! What’s gone wrong, or did you just want to show me the new chair idea?’
‘Neither of those. I’m afraid I got you here under false pretences – with some help from Sam. There’s no problem with the van and these chairs are only for us. Are you warm enough, by the way?’
I nodded, confused.
‘Good.’
He fell silent and I wasn’t sure what I should do. The way he had set up the van, the chairs and the cocktails screamed romance, but I didn’t want to second-guess him. I suppose I could have stayed silent myself, but I opted for small talk.
‘These cocktails are delicious. Is there cinnamon in them?’
‘Yes. I asked Coco to help me come up with something; they’re good, aren’t they? We were worried you wouldn’t approve of cinnamon because it’s not locally sourced, but they won’t make it on to my regular list. Fallon – I didn’t just ask you here to try a new cocktail either. The thing is…’
A whirl of emotion went through me as I tried to look relaxed, as if I found myself in this sort of situation all the time. I considered casually sipping my cocktail, but I didn’t want to risk choking on it with nerves.
