Page 24 of Never Gonna Happen

Anna was silent for a moment as she worked through the suggestion. ‘What about the starter?’

‘Forget the starter,’ said Carol, wafting her hand dismissively. ‘Nobody gives a shit about the starter.’

Emily coughed. ‘It’s not a bad idea, Anna,’ she said. ‘We could send everyone down the left stairs and back up the right, keep the traffic flowing. Then when everyone’s finished their mains we can all go back down for dessert. It might be fun.’

Anna looked doubtful, glancing from Carol to Emily. ‘Fine,’ she said. ‘I’ll organise some taxis to take the waiters home.’ She glared at Emily. ‘It’s your fault if this goes wrong.’

‘Leave it to me,’ said Carol enthusiastically. ‘I’m a champion dinner lady. Anna, we’ll go down and start laying out the food. Do you have a plate warmer?’

‘Yes,’ said Anna, clearly affronted at the suggestion they might not. ‘The plates are already in it.’

‘Lovely,’ said Carol. ‘Moomin, you go and let Dad and Mr Hunter know the plan, then come and join us in the kitchen. Ask them both if they’ll start hustling everyone down the left-hand stairs in ten minutes.’

‘I’m on it,’ said Emily. ‘Thanks, Mum.’

‘Don’t you worry about a thing,’ said Carol, giving Anna’s arm a squeeze. Emily smiled as the housekeeper snatched it away, but Carol didn’t even notice.

Dinner ended up being something of a triumph, with everyone enjoying the novelty of queuing for their food, requesting exactly which bits they wanted, then heading back upstairs to sit anywhere they liked around the tables in the dining room. After the mains were done, the guests hurried back downstairs to grab a spoon and pile into a table of puddings. Most people didn’t even bother going back upstairs to eat them, instead standing around in the kitchen eating sticky toffee pudding and profiteroles until the band struck up in the gallery and Mr Hunter led an impromptu conga to the dance floor. Anna managed a grudging thank you to Carol as they stacked all the plates and bowls for the caterers to collect in the morning, although Emily didn’t even get an acknowledgement.

Later Emily stood by the Christmas tree watching the dance floor, feeling tired and happy and a bit drunk. Her parents were dancing to Chaka Khan’s ‘Ain’t Nobody’ as if they both had a family of small animals living in their underwear, and Mr Hunter was throwing shapes with a couple of the stable hands, looking like he was fighting off a swarm of bees. Jamie appeared next to her with two glasses of fizz, which immediately caught the attention of Carol. She gave Emily a theatrical wink and a double thumbs up, which thankfully Jamie didn’t see.

‘Not dancing?’ he asked, handing Emily a glass.

She smiled and took a sip. ‘I’ll dance with my dad if you dance with yours.’

‘Hmm,’ said Jamie, raising his eyebrows as the DJ segued into ‘Disco Inferno’ and his father cranked it up a notch. ‘Might give that a miss.’

‘No Louisa this evening?’ she asked, trying to sound relaxed and breezy. He was wearing a blue suit with an open-necked white shirt and smelled of a woody, masculine aftershave, which made Emily’s imagination drift in the direction of mistletoe and log fires and festive shagging.

‘No,’ said Jamie, staring into his glass. ‘She’s back in London.’

Emily nodded, noting with a flurry of pleasure that he didn’t sound terribly gutted about that. She could see her mum dancing in their direction, thrusting her hips back and forth as Martin went into a short routine of disco moves. Emily turned to face Jamie in the hope that she might distract him for at least three minutes.

‘What are you doing for Christmas?’ she asked.

Jamie shrugged. ‘Not sure yet. The family are all off to Switzerland.’

‘You don’t sound very keen.’ Emily tried to imagine not wanting to spend Christmas in snowy Switzerland, but then remembered Adam would be there and decided she’d rather spend it working double shifts in a slaughterhouse.

‘I’m sure it will be lovely,’ said Jamie. ‘When are you going home?’

‘Next Saturday,’ she replied. ‘I’ve finished all my shopping so I’m pretty sorted.’

‘Of course you are. Would you like to dance?’

The question took Emily by surprise; she hadn’t seen it coming and suddenly it felt like the biggest decision she’d ever make. She looked away so he didn’t see her blush, and noticed Leon watching them from the other side of the dance floor, his face bleak. Behind Jamie’s head Carol was making a heart symbol with her hands and waving it in their direction. Emily suddenly felt very hot.

She took a deep breath and met Jamie’s gaze. The way he looked at her made her feel dizzy, and she realised how much she wanted to say yes. But she also knew how easy it would be to fall head over heels for Jamie Hunter, and what common sense remained told her that was only ever going to end in tears. She’d been reckless with her feelings over Mark, and she was determined not to make the same mistake again. ‘I won’t, but thank you,’ she replied. ‘I really need to go and check in with Anna.’

He looked disappointed at the obvious rebuff, but also like maybe he understood. ‘That’s OK,’ he said. ‘Enjoy the rest of your night.’ As Emily turned away, he brushed his hand lightly on her arm. ‘Just so you know,’ he whispered, ‘you look incredible in that dress.’

Emily’s face burned as she dashed for the back stairs, feeling dizzy and flustered. She drank a glass of water from the tap in the kitchen, listening to the thumping music overhead and cursing her body for getting hot and horny for a man she absolutely couldn’t have and definitely didn’t want. And what was Jamie doing flirting with her and asking her to dance? It didn’t seem fair, somehow.

Once she’d pulled herself together, she headed back upstairs to join the party, letting her dad drag her on to the dance floor to the opening bars of ‘Into You’ by Ariana Grande. She danced in circles as she sang ‘I’m so into you I can barely breathe’, and by the end of the song she’d scanned the room enough times to be pretty sure that Jamie had left.

Chapter Fifteen

Emily woke up with a woolly head on Sunday, which was no surprise considering she’d danced until 3 a.m., helped Mr Hunter hoof out the stragglers, then accepted his offer to escort her and her absolutely bladdered mother back to the pool cottage so Emily didn’t have to walk back to the main house on her own. Martin had headed off to bed around 1 a.m. but Carol had decided she would be the last woman standing. Or in her case, doing the ‘Macarena’ up one flight of stairs, along the gallery and down the other.