Please Don't Stop The Music (14 page)

‘
Aw
Roah an Juhu nyer yeh?’

‘
What?’ I yelled at him over the noise.

‘
Aw
Roah an Juhu nyer yeh?’ Ben said again.

‘
I
can’t hear!’

‘
I
said, are Rosie and Jason here yet?’ Ben bellowed into my ear,
causing me to step sideways and bump into a large woman who was
peering into the display cabinet in the corner.

‘
Can’t see them. That’s Saskia over there.’ I pointed to the
bottom of the spiral staircase where Saskia had set up court,
leaning against the wrought iron. She was wearing pink chiffon (it
must be some kind of uniform) with matching pink stilettos and her
hair up under a fine pink net with jewels studded around it. ‘Looks
like she got her head caught under a gay trawler,’ I
muttered.

‘
That’s no way to go about getting re-stocked,’ Ben said. He
didn’t seem to have any problems hearing me above the babble.
‘Drink your wine.’ He was twisting his glass around in his hands
and I noticed it was empty.

‘
Are
you all right?’

He
stopped scanning the crowd and looked down at me. ‘I’m just a bit,
you know, on edge. This is the first big do I’ve been to since –
well, since.’

‘
No-one seems to recognise you.’ I didn’t know whether to be
happy about this for Ben’s sake, or cross for mine.

‘
I
look a bit different these days.’

‘
Yes. You were quite something in Willow Down.’ I spoke
without thinking. Ben looked at me steadily, as though we were the
only two people in the room.

‘
You
think?’

Oh,
God. I started to blush round about my ankles which made my feet
slippery inside the angular heels. The blush rose, peppered my
spine and finally scalded its way up my face to my eyelids. Ben was
still looking at me. ‘I mean – err – you, um, you were very hard. I
mean – you looked hard. That’s hard as in unapproachable, sort of a
bit of a nutcase, not hard as in … Excuse me a sec I think that’s
Rosie and Jason. I’ll just let them know we’re over here.’ I fled
to the safety of the doorway.

‘
Jem? Woss up with you girl? Look like you swallowed somethin’
the wrong way,’ and Jason let out a filthy snigger that made people
turn round to find the cause.

‘
I’ve been coughing.’ I cleared my throat to add
veracity.

‘
Bin
drinking more like. Where’s Sass then, better do the honours before
I starts necking ’em.’ Jason took himself off to find Saskia and
Rosie frowned at me.

‘
Are
you all right? You look horribly hot.’

I confessed my
faux pas
whilst trying to rebalance
myself, leaning against a tree-trunk which, against all probability
and artistic integrity, was being used as a doorstop. ‘I don’t
think he noticed,’ I finished. ‘But I feel such an
idiot.’

Rosie was offered a glass by the same waiter who had ignored
me. I wondered how she did it. But then she did look – and this was
the only word that applied – stunning. Her black curls were swept
up into a style from which they cascaded down her neck in
individual strands, her dress was vanilla-coloured silk which hid
the post-baby bulge like a dream and she was made-up like a film
star. ‘He is pretty sexy though, Jem, you have to admit
it.’

I
gave a half-laugh. ‘D’you think so?’

Rosie looked over in Ben’s direction. He
was leaning against a wall with his head cocked, while a woman in a
mesh dress talked at him. ‘Oh, yes. He’s got
something
. I don’t know what it is,
presence or glamour, one of those show biz things. The women are
all looking at him. Bet that’s bugging Jason, he’s used to being
the centre of attention in crowds like this.’

She
was right. Women would glance Ben’s way, look somewhere else for a
second, then look back as if to check their first impressions had
been right. Then their eyes would stay on him while they
unconsciously fussed their hair or licked their lips. ‘He’s okay,’
I said grudgingly.

Rosie gave me a stern look. ‘Now come on, Jem, this is me
you’re talking to.’

I
looked at Ben again. He’d fiddled his bow tie undone and folded his
arms as if to ward off the roomful of people. ‘All right yes, he’s
sexy and funny and bitchy and beautiful and all that. But I don’t
intend to do anything about it, neither does he. So you can cut the
scheming looks.’ A thought struck me. ‘Unless you want
him?’

Ben
was looking at us now. He gave me a smile and I managed a
blush-free grin.

‘
Me?
God, no. I’ve got enough trouble. Look, Saskia’s wheeling out Jase,
this should be fun.’ Without elaborating on what her trouble might
be Rosie headed into the crowd in order to be in hearing distance
of Jason’s opening speech. I went back to Ben.

‘
I
was just telling Rosie about your car. She’s always wanted an
R8.’

Ben
straightened away from the wall and unfolded his arms. ‘Yeah. It’s
sexy and beautiful all right.’

By
biting hard on the inside of my cheek, I managed not to react. The
bloke must have ears like a bat. ‘Come on, Jason’s doing his thing
now and you don’t want to miss it. Jason’s “thing” is the talk of
five continents.’

‘
Okay, now I’m jealous.’

Jason gave his speech while I looked around the room. A
photographer was busily snapping away, taking pictures of Jason,
Saskia, the items on sale, everything. I watched Ben quietly
getting out of the way of the camera and then it was all over and
Saskia was motioning to the waiters to bring new trays of tasty
morsels into the crowd. I snaffled a couple of tiny crêpes and
found a quiet corner to start eating them. Unfortunately Saskia
found the corner, too.

‘
Nice to see someone with a healthy appetite. Most people here
are watching their weight.’

‘
I’m
a size ten, Saskia. I’ve got no desire to be completely
invisible.’

Saskia raised an eyebrow. ‘Size ten? Really? The chain stores
clothes are so forgiving, aren’t they?’

I
looked daggers at her and threw the second crêpe into my mouth. It
was filled with a banana-toffee concoction which would have been
absolutely wonderful if it hadn’t been accompanied by Saskia making
little chewy-mouth faces of disgust. ‘Yum,’ I said to annoy her.
‘Are there any more of these?’

‘
They go straight to your hips, you know.’ Saskia looked down
at my thighs, very visible under the tight skirt. ‘Although in your
case I shouldn’t think you’d notice.’

I
opened my mouth to mention the HobNobs which she stole every time
she found herself in Rosie’s kitchen, and seemed to believe were
negatively calorific, but thankfully, just then Ben came lolloping
along carrying a plate onto which he’d rescued a selection of
delicacies. Saskia’s eyes opened wide. ‘Hello,’ she purred. ‘I
haven’t had the pleasure of being introduced to you. I’m Saskia
Winterington, but then, you’ll know that of course.’

Saskia held out her hand at arm’s length, limp wristed. I
wasn’t sure if she wanted to fend Ben off (although that seemed
laughably unlikely), or have her hand kissed. Ben juggled the plate
for a moment then passed it to me. ‘I’m Ben Davies.’ He took
Saskia’s hand and shook it very definitely. ‘I’m stocking some of
Jemima’s jewellery.’

‘
Hmm.’ Saskia retook her hand and looked Ben
up and down. ‘Well, you’re clearly not a member of the Board of
Trade, I’d certainly remember
you
at meetings!’ She gave a little laugh, but her
eyes stayed fixed on his face. Slowly she reached across and
brushed a hair from the collar of his jacket, pausing her hand on
his shoulder for far longer than was necessary. ‘Do come and tell
me what you think of
my
collection,’ she said, still gazing into his
eyes. ‘I’ll give you the names of some of my suppliers if you
like.’ Pressing her body into his, Saskia hooked her arm through
Ben’s and tugged him towards the back of the shop, pausing on her
way through to make sure everyone noticed her in the company of the
good-looking stranger.

I
burned. The taste of toffee-banana had gone from my mouth, replaced
by a sourness that etched into my teeth as I watched him walk away.
Was this jealousy, this bitter raging which seemed to reach up from
my stomach and pull my skin hotly around me? But Ben and I were –
what, friends? Business partners? He was nothing to me that should
provoke this upwelling, this sense that I was about to vomit
bricks. I watched them cross the shop, Saskia bending to talk into
Ben’s ear and familiarly hug him against her in the crowd, and I
wanted to kill someone.

Across the room Rosie was laughing, engrossed in conversation
with three men she’d been introduced to by Alex, who looked very
dashing tonight in a slightly colonial way. There was no sign of
Jason but a tight knot of women in a corner were whooping and
giggling in a way that indicated he was somewhere in their midst.
No-one came to speak to me, well-clad elbows poked at me and shoes
so pointed that their wearers must have had flippers for feet
clipped my toes and ankles. There was a muzzy haze of noise and
wine-breath filling the air and I began to feel
claustrophobic.

This
was not my life. I felt as though I’d fallen through a hole into
some kind of alter-existence where someone like me had no business
being.

The
back of the shop was cooler. A small door led into the office and
store rooms. It wasn’t locked so I slipped through into the fresh
air beyond. Apart from a couple engaged in a frantic snogging
session on Saskia’s leather sofa-ette, the space was empty and I
felt the tension begin to ease from my shoulders. Alone, I could
cope with alone. I carefully avoided the kissing couple’s eyes and
went through into the little stock room beyond the office. Through
here the noise was muffled, the smell of several hundred perfumed
bodies gave way to the York night air and an open window somewhere
in the building let a cool draught fan my hot face. I sat down on
the corner of a big box and took off my shoes to let my feet have a
rest, flapping my shirt free. I was wearing a belt with one of my
own buckles, a small piece made from gold wire leaves and acorns.
Saskia’s entire guest list seemed to be made up of people who
already had so much jewellery it was a wonder they could stand up.
I sighed. At least Ben seemed to be breaking out of his reclusive
habits. I wondered where he was, and then hated myself for even
thinking it. This was his natural habitat, his rock-star milieu. It
was me who was the pretender here. I was almost swamped for a
second by the knowledge I was simply acting. Playing a role,
chameleon-like, that let me fit in to the background unnoticed.
Wondered, just for a moment, what Ben would think if he knew just
how much of me I kept hidden.

The edges of the box I was sitting on began
to dig into the back of my legs and I stood up. It was one of
several all stacked up on the store room floor, gathering dust.
Well, not dust exactly, Saskia had all dust caught and shot, but
that faded kind of brownness that boxes take on. I wondered what
was in it, what example of art that Saskia was going to sell to
some unsuspecting tourist that they would spend the rest of their
lives explaining to visitors as ‘
 
“Femininity”. Not a twig.
Honestly.’

The
box lid was loose. I lifted it up to peer inside and frowned, my
self-loathing temporarily forgotten. The contents looked very much
like Rosie’s cards. At least the last two consignments that she’d
produced for Saskia, maybe more. Puzzled, I slid the box off the
one underneath and opened that. It, too, was full of stacks of
Rosie’s hand-made cards. And the box on the bottom, although that
had fewer cards inside. I recognised that batch as the last ones
Rosie had done before Harry was born.

Why the hell was Saskia getting Rosie to
produce more and more cards when she wasn’t selling them? Wasn’t
even putting them on display? I looked around the room. Yes, there
was the box of cards that Rosie had delivered on Sunday evening,
shoved into a corner under a shelving unit. I recognised the
slightly ragged tape that we’d used to seal the carton. Maybe
Saskia was going to put the cards out for sale later? But that
didn’t explain why they were still stacked into the boxes as they
had been when we’d brought them over – they’d never even been taken
out. There were
loads
. Saskia wouldn’t sell this many in
years
.

I
restacked the boxes and went out of the store room, carrying my
shoes by a strap. The crowd had thinned, or at least some of the
larger people had gone and the skinny girls in the wafty dresses
were doing duty filling space like air pockets in soil. My brain
had seized on the problem of the boxes with an eagerness that felt
like gratitude. I couldn’t stop to ponder my relationship with Ben,
not when there was something that needed solving.

‘
Rosie?’ I broke in on a conversation that Rosie was having
with Alex. He was telling her how Oscar was born with blue eyes but
that they’d turned brown by the time he was three months old – I
guess you needed to be a parent to appreciate that particular chat.
‘Have you seen Ben?’