Never Too Late (35 page)

Her father and Vida were dancing their first dance

while the band played ‘Come Rain or Come Shine’, a

gloriously melancholy saxophone riff rippling around the ballroom. People were smiling at the newly weds, everyone happy for them. Evie stood to one side and watched.

They both looked so happy, so serene. She’d go and talk

to them after a while, tell Vida she looked beautiful and

remind her to make sure her father got his vitamin tablet

every morning.

When the song finished, he left Vida and walked

towards Evie.

‘May I have this dance?’ he asked, the small upturn at

the corners of his mouth belying his formality.

‘Of course.’

A singer with a throaty cigarettes-and-whiskey voice was

belting out ‘It Had To Be You’ as Andrew and Evie took to

the floor. Other couples joined in, and at the far end of the

room she could see Max and Vida dancing together. Tall

and elegant, they moved gracefully. Evie watched them

wistfully.

She didn’t know what had come over her, she’d been so

rude to Max. And just because he was Vida’s son. It was

ridiculous really, childish. This behaviour had to stop.

Apologising to her father came first.

‘I’m happy for you, Dad,’ she said truthfully. ‘I’m sorry I

took it so badly at first. I’ve been horrible to you and Vida.

I apologise.’

‘You don’t have to say anything,’ Andrew replied. ‘I

understand that it was hard for you. I knew it would be.

That’s why I took the easy route out and didn’t tell you I

was involved with her at first,’ he revealed guiltily. ‘I was

afraid you’d want me to end it before it began.’

Evie was mute for a moment. ‘I’m so sorry, Dad,’ she

gasped. ‘I didn’t know I was such a bitch you’d even dream

I’d do that. And then, when I heard, I saw red, couldn’t

handle it. I never meant to hurt you.’

They were barely dancing now, just shuffling slowly

around the floor, oblivious to the music as they talked.

‘You’re not a bitch, Evie,’ he said earnestly. ‘You’re good

and kind and I’m proud of all you’ve done in your life. But

I know how much you loved your mother, how you

idolised her. That’s why I never got involved with anyone

else when you lived at home after Tony died. You’d gone

through so much and I knew you’d never cope, seeing me

with another woman.’

‘Dad, that was so unfair of me, I’m sorry.’ Evie said. She

was practically crying now. ‘I never meant to …”

‘Shhh,’ he comforted her. ‘I know you didn’t.’ He put his

hand under her chin and turned her face up towards his.

‘But you’re happy for me now, aren’t you?’

‘Yes, Dad.’ The words came out in a big sob. ‘So happy.

Just forgive me for earlier, please?’

Andrew hugged her and, seeing that her face was

blotched with tears, escorted her off the dance floor to

their table. Vida immediately hurried over.

‘Is everything all right?’ she asked worriedly.

‘Fine,’ Andrew said.

With a reassuring smile, Vida was about to move away,

anxious not to intrude, but Evie caught her arm quickly.

‘Don’t go, Vida. I wanted to apologise for being so cold

to you, it wasn’t fair. I want to wish you every happiness.’

The other woman’s face was momentarily frozen, as if

she didn’t quite believe what she was hearing. Then her

mouth curved, the smile reaching her eyes. She leaned

down and kissed her new stepdaughter on the cheek.

‘Thank you, Evie. I appreciate that and I do know how

hard it has been for you.’ She straightened up. ‘I’d better

reclaim my son before he goes off

‘You’ve got to meet Max, Vida’s son,’ Andrew said

eagerly.

‘Yes, you must,’ Vida echoed. ‘You’ll love him. He’s so

funny.’

Bloody hilarious, she thought to herself. At least the pig

hadn’t told his mother he’d already met Evie.

‘And you’ve got to dance with him,’ Vida added.

‘Love to,’ she said brightly. Just not yet. Not until she

had shown him how popular she was. Then she could be

magnanimous and frostily polite. But only then.

The Higginses were delighted to see her, promising her some lovely chops and a nice rib roast if she made it into the shop during the weekend.

‘Thank you,’ Evie said coquettishly, perching on a chair

and looking inquiringly at the man she’d earmarked earlier

as suitable make-Max-jealous material.

‘Our son, Paul,’ beamed Mrs Higgins. ‘Home from

London. You must have met when we first bought the

shop.’

‘Of course, I remember,’ Evie lied. Then, seeing Max

bearing down on her from the top table, no doubt under

instructions from his mother to make friends, she said

recklessly: ‘I don’t suppose you dance, Paul?’

‘Er … yes.’ Startled, he blinked at her. He wasn’t as

handsome as she’d thought from across the room, but he’d

do nicely.

Evie stood up, grabbed his hand and they whirled away

from the table, just in time to see Max giving her a bemused look. She smiled sweetly back.

Conscious that he was watching her, Evie put on a

bravura performance. Paul had two left feet and no conversation, but from the way Evie smiled up at him adoringly,

any onlooker would have thought he was the most fascinating

man in the room.

She was aware that she was behaving with abandon

and that if Cara, Olivia or Rosie had any clue what she

was up to, they’d be open-mouthed in shock, but she

didn’t care. She was at her father’s wedding for God’s

sake, a wedding she’d sworn never to go to so normal

rules didn’t apply.

She stuck it out for three dances, refusing to let Paul sit

down. ‘It’s so much fun,’ she said gaily, ignoring the pain in

her toes from several altercations with the tug boats he

had on his feet.

Max whirled by, Judith attached to him like a barnacle.

Evie’s smile grew brighter. He was a wonderful dancer,

she realised crossly, that big body of his remarkably graceful.

Judith was enjoying herself immensely, laughing like a

drain and pouting up at Max at every opportunity.

The music finished and the band announced that they

were taking a break.

“I could do with a drink,’ Paul said, wiping the perspiration

from his forehead. ‘Would you like one?’

‘Yes,’ Evie answered absently, still staring at Max and

Judith. ‘Oh, no,’ she said, spotting Simon at the ballroom

door. ‘Sorry, Paul,’ she added. ‘Somebody I must greet.’

Simon had come straight from work and looked worn

out. His tie was imperceptibly crooked, his eyes were tired

end his sandy hair was standing up straight the way it

always did when he’d been on a long drive, unthinkingly

running his fingers through it at traffic lights.

Evie nearly knocked him over with the strength of her

embrace. ‘Darling Simon,’ she breathed, snuggling into his

neck like a vampire scenting lunch after a month in its

coffin.

‘Evie, hello,’ he answered. ‘Missed much, have I?’

‘You missed a wonderful ceremony and much more,’

said a deep voice. ‘I’m Max Stewart, Vida’s son.’ Max, large

as life and twice as handsome, held out one hand to Simon.

‘Simon,’ said her father’s voice. ‘I’m so sorry you

couldn’t make the wedding.’

‘But we’re glad you’re here now,’ added Vida, arriving

with a glass of champagne. ‘Andrew has told me all about

you.’

It was like being ambushed, Evie thought. She recovered

gracefully. ‘Yes, Vida, I want you to meet Simon, my fiance,’ she emphasised, managing to give Max a steely look and to wrap an arm around Simon at the same time.

Everyone shook hands.

‘Evie, you haven’t met my son Max yet,’ Vida

exclaimed.

‘How nice to meet you,’ she said between gritted teeth.

‘Isn’t she a joker!’ he chuckled, waggling a finger at her

playfully. ‘We met earlier and she promised me a dance,

didn’t you, Evie?’

With her father and Vida looking on happily, thrilled to

see this further sign of Evie’s being reconciled to their

marriage, she couldn’t say no.

‘But there’s no music,’ she said suddenly, giving him an

angelic look. As if by magic, the band came back to life

with a twang of a double bass, Max held out his hand and

Evie took it, unable to prevent the sudden tremor she felt

as his skin touched hers.

She was going to get lockjaw from smiling so inanely, she

realised, as her assembled relatives beamed back at her

happily.

‘You didn’t look as if you were missing your fiance too

much earlier,’ Max whispered into her ear as they walked

to the dance floor.

‘I cherish the ground he walks on,’ hissed Evie.

‘Lucky man,’ answered Max, eyebrows raised quizzically.

She’d

planned to stand on his feet and make him sorry

he’d ever asked her to dance, but the strains of Glenn

Miller meant she just couldn’t. On the dance floor, Evie

came to life. Born with natural rhythm and a fluid grace,

her body flowed and moved to the music as if she’d trained

for years with the corps de ballet while moonlighting at a

jazz club.

Max, one arm holding her more closely than strictly

appropriate, appeared to have a similar gift. His large frame

moved expertly, flowing with hers to the point where she

felt like Ginger Rogers dancing with Fred Astaire.

Other dancers moved out of the way for them, admiring

their expert moves. Evie loved it. Her heart thumped with

exhilaration.

‘Are we Fred and Ginger or what?’ Max murmured, as

she rippled back into his arms after a spectacular twirl.

Evie laughed in spite of herself.

‘Don’t forget, Ginger did it backwards and in high heels,’

she gasped.

The music soared and she let herself go, enjoying the

moment as if she’d never danced before. Her hair flowed

out behind her and her body obeyed her every command, moving in perfect time with Max’s.

Time passed in a blur of dancing feet and the sensation

of his body next to hers. His eyes danced as well as his feet

and Evie couldn’t stop herself from smiling up at his face,

knowing that his laughing mouth mirrored her own.

That close, she admired his sleek black hair, raked back

from his forehead, and the eyebrows that could speak volumes,

arching in amusement or furrowing in concentration.

It seemed like only a few minutes until the musicians

took another breather.

Without letting go of Evie, Max glanced at his watch.

‘Half an hour of dancing. I think we’d better stop or they’ll

think we’re the ones getting hitched.’

‘Half an hour!’ she exclaimed. ‘It doesn’t feel like

five …’

‘Minutes?’ he supplied.

‘Exactly! I was having such fun.’

He regarded her solemnly, glittering blue eyes sober. ‘Me

too.’

Aware that the dance floor was clearing and that they

were still standing in the middle, like statues, Evie tried to

let go of Max’s hands. He held firm.

‘I’d like to see you again,’ he said softly, so softly that at first, she thought she’d imagined it.

‘What?’ she asked in astonishment.

He repeated himself. ‘I’d like to see you again.’

A welter of emotions surged in Evie’s breast: shock,

delight, excitement at the thought that Max Stewart

wanted to see her again. And then the sudden guilt of

knowing she couldn’t.

‘Simon,’ she breathed. ‘I’m seeing him … we’re

engaged … I can’t.’

The cobalt eyes roamed over her, searching for some

sign of hope in her distressed little face. ‘It’s a pity I’m too late,’ he murmured. ‘We’ll just have to be brother and

sister to each other then, won’t we?’ he added softly.

He walked her back to her table in silence.

‘Thank you for lending me your fiancee, Simon,’ he said

loudly, his good humour apparently restored. ‘She’s a

wonderful dancer.’

‘Isn’t she!’ said Simon, who himself did everything

possible to avoid setting one foot on a dance floor.

‘I’ll talk to you later,’ Max said, the picture of joviality.

“Bye,’ said Evie in a small voice.

Max’s gaze lingered on her a moment and she couldn’t

draw her eyes away from his. She hoped nobody else

noticed but she couldn’t help herself.

Then he was gone.

Simon moved in his chair and in the process his elbow

caught a wine glass and sent it flying, ruby liquid staining

the white linen tablecloth.

Irritated, Evie was about to berate him for being clumsy

but stopped herself.

It wasn’t his fault he wasn’t Max.

Olivia was enjoying herself. Happy to let the music drift

over her, she sat with Sasha comfortably on her lap and

watched Evie dancing with Vida’s son. Her friend looked

wonderfully animated, she thought.

A tap on her arm woke her from her reverie.

‘Olivia, it’s getting late. Sasha should be in bed.’

Stephen’s mood had mellowed slightly although he was

still frosty-faced.

‘Did you check if they have a baby sitting service or

not?’

‘God, no, I didn’t.’ Olivia felt instantly guilty for being a

bad mother. ‘I sort of thought we’d take it in turns to sit