Rescuing Rose (17 page)

'Really, Bea!' I'm very fond of her, but she does talk rubbish sometimes.

'Honestly, Theo, she's just like Jack Lemmon in
The Odd Couple
, don't you think?'

'ROSE!!' Thank God. Here was Henry, looking like an upmarket pantomime dame. 'Isn't this fun?' he said, tossing his silver ringlets and hugging me. 'Ooh, mind my beauty spot!'

'Madame de Pompadour?' I ventured.

'No, Marie Antoinette. Let them eat canapes!' he added with a snort as a waiter offered us miniature cheese on toasts. The girls stared incredulously at Henry as I introduced him—well he did look rather strange.

'I think I'll go and find my friends, Sue and Phil, ' Bev said slightly awkwardly. 'I haven't caught up with them yet. '

'Would you like me to come with you?' Theo asked.

'Well, if you're sure you don't mind. ' She smiled. 'It's much easier to have someone pushing the chair in a crowd like this. '

As they set off I watched Theo anxiously scanning the throng. It would be awful if his wife were here, but she was a partner in that firm so she well might. How upsetting, I reflected, when he's already feeling so raw, to bump into her at something like this; and it's not even as though he has the comfort of being with people he knows really well. But I can't torture myself about it, I decided: either she's here or she's not. Now as I circulated with Henry and the twins I looked at all the couples, having fun.

'—We've just bought a house in Clerkenwell. '

'—We're going to Val d'Isère. '

'—Of course we knew Nick Serota when he was at the Whitechapel. '

'—We've got my mum coming this year. '

'—We argue
all
the time, don't we darling?'

'—We'll be twelve on Christmas Day'

Couples, I thought dismally; cosy couples. No wonder the anagram of couples is 'up close. ' Now, as the champagne kicked in I idly wondered why my relationships have never worked out. Leaving Ed's betrayal out of it it's not as though I've made a habit of dating cads. Before Henry there was Tom, the pilot; and before Tom there was Brian. Brian was a cameraman, but he was always away on location, which was a shame, as he was really good fun. Then before Brian there was Toby, who had his own marketing consultancy, which meant he was going to and fro to the States. And before
him
—we're going way back now—there was Frank, a foreign correspondent for ITN. And before
him
—ooh, we're talking mid-eighties—was Nick, an actor, who did touring rep. But at least they've all been nice men, I reflected fair-mindedly. For some reason it just didn't work out.

A few yards away Beverley was chatting to her friends while Theo studied the seating plan.

'Are you okay?' I asked him.

'Yes, ' he said with a relieved smile. 'I'm fine. For one awful moment I thought my wife might be here but I've looked at the list and she's not. '

A large gong sounded and an MC announced that dinner was served. Knowing that Theo was feeling fine I relaxed— the evening was turning out well after all. As we slowly made our way towards our tables, a girl dressed as a Toulouse Lautrec can-can dancer asked us if we'd like to buy raffle tickets.

'We've got some great prizes, ' she explained. 'The tickets are five pounds each, but if you buy four you get one free. '

'That sounds like good value for Monet, ' I quipped, handing her twenty quid.

'I'll have five too, ' said Bev.

'I'd like ten, ' said Theo. His relief at his wife's absence had made him generous. Bev gave him a grateful smile. 'We're on table sixteen, 'he pointed out, 'I think it's over there, by that pillar, towards the back. '

'Would
you
like to buy a raffle ticket, Sir?' I heard the girl ask someone behind us.

'No thanks, ' said a familiar voice. It was as though I'd been pushed off a cliff.

'Are you sure?' the girl tried again as my heart did a drum roll.

'Quite sure, thanks, ' said Ed. How bitterly, bitterly ironic. I felt blood suffuse my face. Theo's spouse
wasn't
here after all— to his huge relief—but mine
was
!

'Are you all right?' Theo asked, staring at me. 'What is it?'

'My ex-mother, ' I murmured miserably.

'Your ex-mother?'

'I mean… my
ex-husband
. He's right behind. '

'Rose!' hissed the twins slithering up to me like a pair of sidewinders, 'Ed's here. '

'Yes, I know. Presumably
she's
with him, ' I said bleakly.

'Yes,' Bella whispered, ''fraid so. But she looks hideous, ' she added. 'She's come as Vermeer's
Girl with the Pearl Earring
. It doesn't suit her at all. '

'No, that's not right, ' said Bea. 'She's come as his
Portrait of a Young Woman
, actually. '

'It's
The Girl with the Pearl Earring
, Bella insisted.

'No—it's the
Portrait of A Young Woman
. They're very similar but the headdress is slightly different. '

'I'm telling you, Bea, it's
The Girl with the Pearl Earring
, I've got a book on Vermeer. '

'I don't care if she's come as the Duchamp urinal, ' I hissed, 'what about him?'

'He's a Van Dyck
Laughing Cavalier
!

'But he looks a bit sad, ' said Bella.

'He looks bloody silly, ' added Bea.

'I can't take it, ' I muttered miserably. 'I'll have to go home. '

'No!' said the twins. 'Just ignore them and try and have fun!'

'Has anyone got any valium?' I muttered with a bitter laugh. In the absence of pharmaceutical sedation I anaesthetised myself with another gulp of champagne.

'Don't worry, ' Bella whispered conspiratorially, as we found our table, 'they're sitting miles away.' Hyperventilating gently behind my palette-shaped menu I now discreetly peered through the centrepiece flowers. There Ed was, with that human Poké-mon, by the window, on the far side. They were with my ex-neighbours, Pam and Doug, who were dressed as the
Arnolfini Marriage
by van Eyck.

'Bottoms up!' said Henry genially as he filled everyone's glass with Chablis. Then he began talking to the twins about their interior design business and about some empty shop he knew of near High Street Ken. I tried to chat to Bev's friends, Sue and Phil, but it was an effort to concentrate; not just because Ed was in the same room but because, by some hideous stroke of synchronicity, it was a year to the day since we'd met. This was our first anniversary, I reflected miserably. Bloody marvellous.
Great
.

I glanced at Pam and Doug and bitterly wished I'd never gone to their party that night. I'd been in two minds about it as I was busy, and I didn't know them that well. If I hadn't gone,

I now reflected, I would not have met and married Ed, and he would not have been unfaithful to me with our marriage guidance counsellor and I would not now be dismal and almost divorced. I would still be living in my perfectly nice garden flat in Clapham, with a manageable mortgage, instead of in a house in Camberwell which I can barely afford.

After the duck—I couldn't touch mine—there was a speech by the charity's Chairperson, that glamorous but somehow rather irritating TV vet, Ulrika Most. She'd come as a Klimt in a flowing Art Nouveau gold-speckled devoré dress. She thanked the ball's sponsors, Dogobix, in her lilting Scandiwegian, then talked about the charity's work.

'There are many thousands of people with serious disabilities, ' she began. 'A Helping Paw can change their lives… increased independence… a whole new lease of life… but training each dog costs eight thousand pounds… thank you for your support tonight. ' And now, after five—or was it six—glasses of wine I had begun to relax. I could cope. Oh yes, I could deal with this. Stuff Ed and his ghastly Miss Trust.

'Ed should have come as
The Rake's Progress
!' I hissed across the table to the twins as the
crème brûlée
arrived. 'As for that pigmy he's shagging, ' I added gaily, 'she should have come as that Turner Prize-winning pile of elephant dung!' Amused by my caustic observations I emitted a hollow laugh. But at the same time I was aware that I should have come as Picasso's
Weeping Woman
.

As Henry got up—'I have to powder my nose, ' he announced—the twins began to fight.

'You're flirting with him, Bella, stop it!'

'I'm not—you're paranoid. '

'You are!' 'Bea hissed. 'You always have to try and spoil things don't you?'

'Oh for God's sake—don't be absurd!'

The auction followed. I tipsily submitted a closed bid for a painting—unsuccessful fortunately as I don't have the cash— then the raffle was announced: no dice. I stared miserably at my strips of pink cloakroom tickets then the band struck up. Sue and Phil got up to dance and the twins both rushed onto the floor with Henry—still competing for his attention like mad. Theo was talking animatedly to Beverley—now
they
were getting on like a house on fire and uu… uuuu__uuuhhh! Someone was pushing a blunt skewer into my heart—there was Ed dancing with Miss Match; or rather Mish Mash, I thought blearily as I drained my glass again. I averted my eyes, but it was like passing a car crash: I didn't want to see but somehow couldn't not look. Ed was so gorgeous, even in that ludicrous curly black wig, I thought my heart would break. I willed the glittering chandelier to fall on Miss Fortune and crush her to bits. And now, from the table behind, I heard an animated conversation taking place.

'Yes, he got this call—out of the blue. '

'What? From his mum?'

'Yes. She hadn't seen him for thirty-five years. '

'
Amazing
! Thirty-five years?'

'That's right. '

'So what happened?'

'Well, apparently she was terrified that he'd tell her to get lost, but he didn't, and now they've become best of friends. '

Christ, that was all I needed—Happy Families: I poured myself some more wine. And now, after seven glasses—or was it eight?—the dancers seemed to swirl and coalesce before my eyes. Lowry stick men, thin as thermometers, danced with bosomy Rubens; bespectacled Gilbert and George suits with frilly Fragonards; a Seurat Bather in red swimming shorts was twirling a bustled Tissot. I glanced at Theo and Bev, still chatting away animatedly as if they'd known each other for years. Hmmmm…

'No, I really
do
think men are from Mars and women are from Venus, ' she exclaimed hotly.

'Oh that's not true, ' he replied. 'For a start there's no water on Mars, and the atmosphere is mostly carbon dioxide making it impossible to support life. Ditto Venus where the average temperature is 870 degrees Fahrenheit, plus it rains sulphuric acid all day. ' Bev giggled and rolled her eyes. 'Would you like to dance?' Theo added.

'Well, I'd love to, ' she replied, 'but the floor's a bit too crowded. Maybe later on when there's a little more space. '

'Are you sure?' She nodded. 'How about you Rose? Rose?'

'Wha… ?' I lowered my glass.

'Would you like to dance?' he asked politely.

'Er… '

'Would you?' Would I?

'Um… well… 'kay then. Why no'?' As Bea returned to the table with Henry—Bella was dancing with a Jackson Pollack— Theo and I headed onto the floor.

'So isn't there
any
life on Mars then?' I asked him tipsily. 'I find that
very
disappointing. '

'No—at least not during the week. But on Saturday nights it can get pretty lively apparently… '

I giggled, then saw Ed and stopped.

Do you really want to hurt me
? crooned the singer.

Yes, Ed, I really
do
.

Do you really want to make me cry?

I'd
love
to make you cry, I reflected bitterly as Theo spun me round. Ed and Miss Guided were less than six feet away but I heroically ignored them. And now, the tempo slowed.

I believe I can fly
… crooned the lead singer.

I saw Mary-Claire's porky little arms go round Ed's neck. I flung my arms round Theo.

I believe I can touch the sky…

I saw her trotters caress his back—well two could play at that.

I think about it every night and day…

I saw her stand on tiptoe to grunt sweet nothings in his ear, so I whispered in Theo's.

Spread my wings and fly away…

'Thish lov'ly…'s'reely nice, ' I said. I hiccuped, loudly. 'Oh sorry. '

'I'm glad you're enjoying yourself, ' said Theo, slightly awkwardly.

'Iss bldy gd fn!'

'Your costume's grand by the way. ' Grand. That was
such
a nice word.

'Oh! Snks ver mush. ' I hiccuped again—it was really painful. Then, suddenly exhausted, I laid my forehead on Theo's shoulder—and felt my head start to spin.

I believe I can soar…

Now as we slowly revolved again I looked up and focussed for a second on Bev.

See me running through that open door…

She was looking crestfallen and tense, a deep frown pleating her brow. What was up? Oh God—of
course
. She'd been chatting to Theo all night and didn't like me dancing with him. I wanted to rush over and tell her she had nothing to worry about: a) he was ten years my junior—he was a baby for God's sake!—and b) we were just having a bop. He simply felt sorry for his poor lonely old landlady so he thought he'd give her a twirl. To our left Henry and Bea were getting on
very
well, dancing cheek to cheek. Hmmmm. And now—still conspicuously ignoring them—Theo and I shimmied past Ed and Miss Lay. I was grateful, as we did so, that Theo was at least quite good-looking. Then, emboldened by booze, I looked Ed straight in the eye. Just for a nanosecond. I looked him square in the face. And drunk though I undoubtedly was by now, I registered pain in his eyes. Well he'd brought it on himself, I reflected sourly. Suddenly I felt a sharp pain in my brow.

'Ooh. '

'What's up, Rose?' whispered Theo.

'My head really hurts. '

'Would you like to sit down?'

'Yes please. Oh, no!' Because now the band was playing 'Every Little Thing She Does is Magic', one of my favourite songs; and there was Henry, bouncing around with Bea, twirling her this way and that; then I saw him dash over to Bev. He wheeled her onto the floor, then danced with her, prancing around her chair and spinning it vigorously with both hands.