The Party Season (33 page)

'Well, Monty and I used to … how do you say it? We used to see each other.'

I get my timescale all mixed up and say in horror, 'He had an affair?'

'Oh no! No, it was before he got married.' I relax minutely. 'That was how we knew the Monkwells.'

'So what happened?'

'Oh, it was silly really. We were both too young. Only in our twenties. No, Izzy, that wasn't during the war,' she says as I open my mouth and close it again. 'Anyway, both families were heavily against our relationship, which made life pretty difficult. We had a big row one day, I can't even remember what it was about now but it seemed like the end of the world at that age, and I huffed off saying I never wanted to see him again. I was due to go to America for a few weeks to visit some relatives and so I left without saying goodbye I was so mad at him – he could be absolutely infuriating, you know. But then, so could I. It was the biggest mistake I ever made. I returned home to find him uncomfortably engaged to Elizabeth.' She stares off into the distance, lost in a private world. 'I remember it so well; it was summer, one almost as hot as this. I was wearing a beautiful new twin-set with my pearls and I danced over to the estate, longing to see him. Thinking our silly row would all be forgotten. And there she was. Sitting on the lawn in the middle of a picnic rug, sipping champagne with the rest of the family. I didn't find out until later that they were actually engaged. The family didn't like me much. Thought I was a disruptive influence.' She leans over and whispers conspiratorially, 'I was a bit of a wild child back then. Rode horses bareback and swam in the swimming pool naked.'

'They had a swimming pool?'

'The first thing Elizabeth did was to dig it up and put a rose garden over the top of it. Of course, my behaviour means nothing now, it's probably called spirited or something, but back then it was very non-PC for the prospective Lady of the Manor. The Monkwells wanted someone with more dignity. Someone who would treat the servants as servants, not chums to have a good gossip with in the kitchen garden. Elizabeth fitted the bill beautifully. The family loved her and apparently shoved Monty at her so hard he was engaged before he knew it. Poor love; when I think back, he did look a little dazed that day.'

'So what happened when he saw you?'

'He didn't see me. I came around the side of the house and saw them all sitting on the lawn. Monty was holding Elizabeth's hand with his back to me so I just turned and ran. I couldn't have gone over to him, not with all the family there – it would have been far too embarrassing. I never knew whether he found out I'd been there. His mother saw me but I doubt she ever mentioned it. I sometimes used to wonder if things would have been different if he had seen me.'

'Didn't you try to contact him?'

'Pride, Izzy, my dear. The downfall of many a relationship. I was furiously angry with him and didn't really believe the marriage would happen. If I had taken it more seriously I think I would have stayed and fought for him. When you're so young, you don't realise how decisions like that can change lives.'

'Do you think he loved her?'

She looks pensively into the distance, somewhere over my shoulder, and then says quietly, 'Yes, I think he did. The boys were born, and then you and Sophie were born, the happiest days of my life.' I lean over and squeeze her hand appreciatively. 'I started to hear less and less of them. Started to lose contact with the people who told me about them. Time moved on for all of us.'

'But you never married, Aunt Winnie.' It suddenly strikes me that this is the unfortunate affair that my mother mentioned to me. It was Monty. Winnie looks down at the table for a second and then says quietly, 'No. But I'm not sure we would have been happy together. We've both mellowed a lot now but back then we were pretty fiery and we used to have some dreadful rows. Elizabeth was a very settling influence on him. You always need one rock in a relationship.'

'That's very pragmatic of you, Aunt Winnie.'

'Well, you can't spend your life mooning around. You have to get on with it and extract what you can when you can.' She pats my hand quite forcefully.

'So how did my parents come to live at Pantiles?' I ask.

'A little masochistic of me. When your father was stationed here and your mother decided she wanted to keep her horses somewhere, I suggested the Monkwell estate before she'd even finished the sentence. I wanted an excuse to go there and see how they were all getting along. So, there your parents settled for a few years, and naturally the Monkwells were getting along just fine without me. Anyway, I'm glad I've told you at last. I've been meaning to for years but never found the right time.'

We both sit in silence for a second, me in slight regret that none of this is the answer I am looking for about Simon. It does, however, explain some of the peculiar behaviour going on around here.

'Funny how two families can be so inextricably linked together, isn't it?' I say softly. 'You and Monty, me and Simon.' Aunt Winnie pats my hand again. 'Neither of them worked out, did they, Aunt Winnie?'

'That's not all, Izzy.'

'How do you mean?'

'Stay until after the press conference?'

I nod and she leaves me to finish my packing.

Our last breakfast at the estate is very subdued. Everyone is exceedingly concerned about the takeover negotiations and we all leap for the phone whenever it rings, hoping it might be a decision from the American investors before the deadline. But it's either a fellow boy scout for Harry, or a newspaper reporter wanting a quote from Simon, or a sultry female voice wanting to speak with Will
(
I had no idea he was such a ladies' man). I am quite thankful for the repressed atmosphere as I can just blend into it without much comment. Aunt Flo returns from taking Poppet out for a walk and I make a mental note to check my luggage later to ensure Poppet hasn't crept into it while I wasn't looking. We then make Harry run around in a last-minute flurry of bob-a-jobs as he is driving us all insane with how he, Harry Delaney, has only managed to raise forty-six pounds and thirty pence while ruddy Godfrey Farlington, who seems unbearably precocious and in need of smacking with a large stick, has raised so much more.

I look at Monty in a new light after Aunt Winnie's revelations. I try to picture them when they were younger but I can only see them as they are now, not just in terms of how they look but also in their responsibilities and attitudes. I can't imagine either of them being young and carefree. I look over at Aunt Winnie. Nope, it's no good. I just can't do it.

The press conference is scheduled for eleven a.m. Simon's PR firm thought it would be a good idea to have it here at the house in order to bury the bailiff rumours once and for all. Dominic and I have absolutely nothing to do as the PR firm sweep in to organise it. An efficient girl called Victoria bustles in and out of the kitchen while we lounge around on the furniture, drinking coffee and waiting for some news. Mrs Delaney is baking some sweet treats for the press which is completely unnecessary but she seems to enjoy doing it.

I take a careful look around me. Dom is chatting to Aunt Winnie, Mrs Delaney and Harry, and Flo has disappeared with Will. Monty and I are the only ones left sitting at the table. 'I had a chat with Aunt Winnie this morning,' I say to him quietly.

'Yes, she told me,' he replies. 'It's funny but after all this time she hasn't changed a bit. She's just mellower.'

'She said she used to be a bit fiery.'

'A bit! We used to have rows every second day! At least this time they'll only be once a week.'

I raise my eyebrows. 'This time?' I query.

'Well, we'll see what happens.'

'So you're going to see more of each other?'

He glances over at me. 'Next week. I said I'd take her out to dinner. That's if we're not busy moving out! Do you mind?'

'Of course not! I'm delighted!' I beam at him. That's the best news I've heard in quite a while. Mind you, that wouldn't be too difficult.

'Dom asked me if you two could adopt Meg. I said of course you could – she seems to have taken a big shine to you both anyway. But I was sort of hoping, in fact we all were, that we might be seeing a bit more of you after all this?' He raises his eyebrows suggestively.

I reach over and pat his hand, shaking my head slightly. 'Thank you for Meg, Monty.' And with this I wander out into the walled garden and call the office.

'Hi Stephanie,' I say dispiritedly.

I hear her blow out a long stream of smoke. Or she might just have been holding her breath. 'You'll be wanting to speak to Gerald then?'

'Er, yes. If he's there.'

Eventually Gerald comes on to the line. 'Are you actually returning to the office at any point today or have you taken it upon yourself to declare a public holiday?'

'I've had to tie up a few things, I'll be back later. Do you need me?'

'I'm not sure our insurance company can afford you. Unless you come under the force majeure heading, along with other naturally occurring disasters.'

'Now, now, Gerald, don't be like that.'

'How's Dominic?'

'Going out with Sophie.'

'He told you then?'

'So you did know.'

'Aidan told me.'

'I thought Dom was trying to tell me he was gay.'

'Dominic? Gay? Are you going out of your mind, Izzy?'

'I think I probably am. Aidan isn't straight too, is he?'

'No, he definitely is gay.'

'By the way, I haven't got any parties scheduled for this weekend, have I?'

'No, no. I thought you could do with the weekend off.'

'Thanks, Gerald.'

'Bugger off now. And don't call if you need anything; you'll be better off talking to the Samaritans.'

I grin to myself and ring off.

'Any news?' I ask Monty when I return into the kitchen.

'Yeah, Sam has just been in. He says the Americans want to extend the deadline so they can have more time to decide.'

'Is that a problem?'

'I'm not sure, but Sam didn't look too pleased. They're going ahead with the press conference though. The press are starting to arrive. Shall we sneak in the back?'

At about a quarter to eleven we wander through to the drawing room, where the PR company has set up a large table surrounded by fifteen chairs at the front of the room and then rows of chairs facing it. The room is already buzzing with activity; people are huddled together drinking from mugs and eating Mrs Delaney's biscuits. A large buffet table has been erected and Dom and I help ourselves. Every couple of minutes the numbers swell until we almost have to shout over the din. Flo and Will join us, both of them looking unexpectedly thoughtful.

'Are you okay?' I ask Aunt Flo in concern.

'Yes, dear. Just a bit worried for Simon.'

'I'm sure he's faced worse than this,' I say comfortingly.

'Yes, but I haven't. They might take our house, Izzy.' She whispers the latter in my ear as though she is only just grasping the concept.

'He'll find a way' I say, knowing full well that he probably won't be able to this time.

Our little huddle stands nervously at the back until the door opens again and Simon marches into the room, head held high and proud. I stifle a gasp. He looks absolutely beautiful. He has had his hair cut into a very short crop.

'Oh my God!' moans Flo. 'He's like Samson. He'll lose all his strength.'

'Must have got it done this morning,' murmurs Dom.

I'm slapped in the face by a sudden longing for him. What wouldn't I give to be able to clamber over the top of all these people and fling myself into his arms. My stomach fills with butterflies as I watch him settle down behind the table, leaning over to murmur something to one of his colleagues. I'm concentrating so hard on him that I don't notice anyone else coming into the room.

Victoria, the PR girl, keeps giving Simon coy little looks. She teeters around on high stilettos, dressed in a beautiful Jackie Onassis-type suit. I look down at my own outfit. A black crocheted skirt, plum suede boots with a stiletto heel and an embroidered plum-coloured top.

'Oh my God,' mumbles Dom.

'I know,' I whisper back. 'Where do you think she got it from? Whistles?'

I glance over at him and suddenly realise that he's not looking at Victoria. He's looking at someone else. Instinctively I know who it is and my eyes confirm the facts.

'Oh bugger,' I breathe.

C h a p t e r  25

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I
have no wish to be seen by Rob so I sidle forward and sit down suddenly on one of the chairs. Dom quickly joins me.

'It seems that wherever I look at the moment, Rob is there,' I complain.

'Why is he here?'

'I suppose because he's one of the directors of Wings.'

'Only a non-executive one.'

'Yeah, but he's responsible for all this, isn't he?'

'How are we going to get out of here?'