*
When Georgia opened her door to us twenty minutes later, she looked resplendent, andverypissed, in her Good Witch of the North outfit, complete with wand and tiara.
‘Twinsies!’ she yelled after she took in my costume.
I grinned. ‘Same film, different characters, but close enough.’
She pulled me in to her pale pink satin. ‘It’s so good to see you, Zo.’
When we’d disentangled ourselves, she gave Simon the once-over.
‘George, this is Simon,’ I said.
‘Well hello, Doctor Jones,’ she cooed. ‘I’ve heardsomuch about you.’
Simon smiled. ‘It’s great to meet you.’ He held up two bottles of wine. ‘Where shall I put these?’
‘Kitchen table – straight through to the back. Thanks, guys!’
Simon and I headed to the back of the house and added our two bottles to the alarming arsenal of alcohol on the kitchen table.
Dean appeared from a side door, carrying a bag of ice. ‘Hey Zoë, great to see you. Who’s your friend?’ He obviously hadn’t been briefed on who Simon was, thank God, because tact was not his forte.
‘This is Simon.’
Simon stepped forward. ‘Can I give you a hand?’
‘Cheers, mate,’ said Dean, ‘Help me dump it into that ice box.’
‘Great outfit, Dean,’ I said, as they poured the ice into the box, with only a few cubes going astray. His military whites made him look pretty dashing. If Georgia wasn’t careful, they’d be welcoming another bundle of joy into their lives nine months from now.
‘Itchy as fuck, pardon my French,’ he said. ‘And George won’t let me take the hat off. She says she pushed two babies out of her fanny, so the least I could do is put up with a bit of hat-hair.’
‘You look very handsome,’ I told him. ‘Every inch an officer and a gentleman.’
‘Thanks, love. Help yourself to drinks, guys.’
Dean flitted out of the room, scratching the nape of his neck.
‘Red or white?’ said Simon, picking up two plastic flutes.
‘Better stick to white,’ I replied. ‘If I get red wine on the dress, we’ll lose our deposit.’
Twenty-odd people were crammed into the lounge. I scanned the room, taking in a couple of cowboys; an Al Capone, complete with violin case; a Sleeping Beauty and as a foil to Georgia, her sister, Fliss, had come as the Wicked Witch of the West. ‘I’ll get you, my pretty,’ she said to me in a crowing voice. Her green skin only added to the menace. Props to her for commitment.
Simon was a hit with everyone, including Georgia. I don’t know why I’d been worried about her meeting him. One of the cowboys, Matthew, a credit controller at Dean’s firm, challenged Simon to a shoot-out, and Simon had us in stitches when he used his whip to knock the gun from Matthew’s hand in a reversal of the classic scene fromRaiders of the Lost Ark.
‘This wine is excellent,’ said Georgia, dropping to the floor beside me.
‘Paint stripper would probably taste good after your pregnancy dry spell.’
‘This is only my third glass and the room is already spinning. Is that normal?’
How the mighty had fallen. Georgia used to be able to drink pint after pint at uni. The rugby boys had made her an honorary member of their team.
Simon was on the opposite side of the room, talking to Al Capone. Our eyes met for a moment, and he raised his glass in a toast to us.
Georgia grinned, first at me and then him.
