Uptown Girl (5 page)

“Evening
Emma. You look as gorgeous as ever,” the former officer remarked, smiling at Emma with a glint in his eye. Such looks used to melt her heart. Now they just left her cold.

“Thank
you. And how’s Jane?” Emma replied, referring to Harrow’s perfectly nice – but perfectly dull – wife.

“Absent
tonight.” Again he smiled, suggestively.

Thankfully
Celia soon rescued her, after Emma gave her a signal to do so (coughing). The two women retreated to a corner and Emma filled her friend in on some of the guests who had arrived.

Thomas
Finn. Cousin to Emma (a first cousin so at least he would not hit on her). He had recently left the army and spent most of his time nowadays fighting with his wife. He was good looking – and he knew it. Unfortunately he was unaware of how self-centred he could be.

George
Connelly (“Gentleman George”). George towered over everyone else at the party. Emma liked George but conveyed how she felt sorry for him, due to his wife. Eleanor Connelly despised every woman who was more attractive and intelligent than her. Unfortunately that meant hating most women, Emma pointedly remarked – both in jest and in earnest.

Peter
Scott (“Captain Scott”). Peter was successful through being self-made. He was decent, faithful to his wife and unassumingly content. For one or more of those reasons he was distrusted and disliked by a number of the other officers around the table.

Tarquin
Carter. Tarquin was a distant cousin of Emma’s, who would hit on her when drunk if given the chance. He had a drink problem, but it was almost the least of his problems. Emma mentioned to Celia how the newly qualified lawyer would spend most of the evening running his hand through his long blonde hair and talking about which stocks to invest in and how to avoid paying tax. Emma warned Celia that his plumy accent was for real – and to try not to laugh when he talked to her.

Julian
Guy. Emma mentioned how Julian was terribly sweet and terribly posh. He joined the army in order to please his father. When his “Papa” passed away however he resigned his commission. Emma told Celia how she suspected that Julian was gay (and not just because he had never made a play for her). After leaving the army he became a Tory politician.

They
had all attended the best schools (aside from Peter Scott), though that did not necessarily mean that they all had received the best education, Emma posited.

The
only guest who she could not comment upon to her friend was that of the man talking to her father. He had short black hair and wasn’t wearing the most expensive of suits, she judged. Unfortunately he had his back to Emma so she could not see his features. She smiled as her father laughed from something the stranger said (since her mother’s death, it was as rare as it was joyful to hear her father’s baritone laughter). Whilst Celia went to the bathroom Emma decided that she would get a better look at her father’s friend and introduce herself.

“Emma,
darling, please let me introduce you to my good friend William, or “Shakespeare” as we nicknamed him many moons ago,” Robert Hastings said, whilst drinking with one hand and clasping his friend fraternally on the shoulder with the other.

As
“Shakespeare” turned around however Emma’s heart sank – and the blood rushed up to her cheeks in either embarrassment or anger – as she realised that the stranger was not quite a stranger after all. The young woman’s heart started to beat faster, but not because she was about to swoon.

“We’ve
already met,” William Flynn remarked, with a wry yet warm smile upon his grime-free face.

Despite
all the barbs she had prepared the other day to put the mechanic in his place Emma was rendered temporarily speechless, seeing the “oik” dressed in a suit, clean shaven, smiling, in her family home. Perhaps she would swoon after all – from shock!

“Ah,
that’s right. I encouraged Emma to take her car into the garage. Leaving aside his fears about coming this evening, Shakes is one of the bravest men I have ever met. He served under me in Afghanistan.”

“I’m
not sure about bravest. Luckiest or stupidest might be more accurate,” the mechanic amiably replied, appearing a little uncomfortable at his former commanding officer’s comment.

“You’re
too modest Will.”

“I’ve
seen his garage. He has a lot to be modest about.” Finally Emma had regained her composure and sharp (or blunt) tongue. She briefly, sourly, smiled at the mechanic. Out of the corner of her eye however she witnessed her father’s reaction to her put-down. He wasn’t smiling, at all. He looked sternly at his rude daughter, furrowing his brow in both confusion and disappointment. Before he could say something however Robert Hastings was distracted by the caterer, who led him away towards the kitchen.

“You
may have somehow earned my father’s respect, but from the way you treated me the other day you’ve far from earned mine. I’m still unsure as to why you’re here. Look around you, you don’t belong. You’re not like any of the other officers here.”

“You
may not be able to forgive yourself, but you’ve just given me a compliment Miss Hastings.” Again William smiled, warmly and wryly. There was humour rather than malice in his voice. He was infuriatingly calm, polite, amused, Emma thought to herself. But the calmer he appeared, the more desperate she became to insult the mechanic. Put him in his place.

“Hopefully
you won’t stay late. I understand that the animals in the zoo need to be locked back up in their cages by ten. Given your charms though it’s unlikely that you have a wife to go home to.”

Finally
Emma got what she wished for and the smile fell from William’s face. For a moment his rugged countenance looked to be twisting itself into anger, but then his features dropped and he hung his head in sadness. Without another word said the mechanic merely turned and walked away. Emma initially felt a sense of triumph, but then she soon felt a little awkward and guilty – such had been the mechanic’s pained expression. The soldier even looked like he was about to cry.

Thankfully
Emma wasn’t placed next to William at dinner, although she was still close enough to hear how much Celia and her father were enjoying his company. Indeed, in regards to her father, she had never seen him be so informal with someone from the regiment. He was a friend rather than former soldier. The Brigadier asked for his view and laughed at his comments. Similar to her father the mechanic easily worked his way through a bottle of wine before he had even finished his first course, yet he didn’t seem to be affected by it.

Robert
Hastings tried to include his daughter in the discussion at his end of the table one or two times but she merely smiled in a forced way and turned her head when the mechanic addressed her, being cursorily polite at best. Emma also smiled and engaged with the guests near her in a half-hearted fashion. The cutlery sparkled more than their conversation. She often thought of Jason and wished herself at the launch party. He was everything William Flynn wasn’t, she told herself. Jason was successful, refined, popular, sartorial and attractive. Women wanted to be with him (which was another reason why she wanted to be on his arm at the party) and men wanted to be him, she told herself.

The
wine and whiskies naturally increased the boisterousness of the guests – and when Robert Hastings left to go to the toilet upstairs the suggestive comments towards the waitresses increased too. James Harrow even proceeded to slap one of the serving girl’s behinds. The reaction of the girl was to falteringly smile, blush and walk out the room briskly. The reaction of most of the guests was to clap and cheer.

“I
know the type, no means maybe,” the officer announced – and cackled.

As
well as engaging his father in conversation Emma couldn’t help but notice how Celia was talking to the mechanic in an engaging and intimate fashion as well. She had been poised to at any point to hear her friend cough and then rescue her. After the first course – of salmon with capers – Emma ventured upstairs to go to the toilet and also check her phone. She was a little disappointed to see only a short, solitary text message from Jason. “
Wish
you
were
here
babe
xxxx
.” She messaged him back, asking if he was free to talk, and waited five minutes for a reply. But to no avail. Before returning to the dining room Emma decided to catch some air. She heard voices in the conservatory and stopped.

“How
much will it take for you to serve yourself up on a plate for me?”

Emma
rolled her eyes upon hearing James Harrow. Her concern grew however upon witnessing how uncomfortable the serving girl looked.

“Please,
I have to get back to work.” The girl could have been no older than nineteen.

“You’re
already working now. Looking after me.”

There
was a forcefulness, rather than playfulness, to his tone. His eyes were glazed over from drinking. He grabbed the girl’s shoulder and leaned into her. The girl turned her face away. Emma was just about to rush and get her father when she heard another voice.

“I
thought you would have gotten used to “maybe” meaning “no” by now.”

“Fuck
off Flynn. Go back to dinner. Have another drink. We’re fine here.”

“I’m
always happy to have another drink. Would you like to pour it though?” the mechanic asked the girl. Emma saw her nod.

“She’s
happy looking after me.” Harrow clasped her forearm, holding her back.

“You’ve
got two choices. You can either let the girl leave, or I can break one of your fingers. That way, you’ll have the perfect excuse to be able to leave yourself. I think it’d be best if we all just went back to the dining room though.”

“Fuck
off. Now that’s an order.”

“Neither
of us takes orders from you.”

Harrow
grunted and sneered and walked towards the mechanic. The well built officer swung a punch but Flynn grabbed the fist in mid air, and pulled Harrow’s arm behind his back. Emma then winced as she heard the sound of the finger break. The mechanic put his hand across Harrow’s mouth, in order to muffle the scream.

“You
fucking bastard. You fuck!” the drunken stock broker exclaimed, or rather sobbed, once William had let him go.

“Now
you’ve got two choices. You can either mind your language and manners in front of the lady, or I can break another one of your fingers.”

Harrow
left shortly afterwards, explaining to his host that he had accidentally trapped his finger in the toilet door. William encouraged the girl to take some air. He was gentle with her, yet also made her laugh as he led her outside. William then arranged for Celia to keep her company. Emma covertly took things in, partly in disbelief.

By
the end of the dessert course most of the guests were more than a little worse for wear. Some were sleeping things off in the drawing room, some had left to go home. Their host, Emma, Celia, William, Julian Guy and George Connelly were still going strong around the dinner table however. Robert decanted some port.

“Now
this is a party Shakespeare, so I can’t very well let you leave without you performing your party trick,” the host exclaimed.

It
was the mechanic’s turn to now roll his eyes, but he smiled obligingly too, knowing that his friend would not take no for an answer.

“Why
do you call him Shakespeare? Because his name is William?” Celia asked, glowing from the wine.

“No,
it’s because of what you’re about to see, or rather hear,” Robert said, with a twinkle in his eye that didn’t just come from the wine.

Robert
got up and went over to one of the bookcases which lined the walls. He groaned slightly as he grabbed a copy of the
Complete Works of Shakespeare
and placed it in front of Celia.

“Now
Celia, I want you to pick out the first line from a famous speech – and Shakes here will do the rest so to speak.”

Celia
thought for a minute and proceeded to find one of her favourite passages from
The
Merchant
of
Venice
, which she had studied at college.

“Are
you ready?” Celia worriedly asked. William nodded and smiled reassuringly.

“I’m
ready. Whether I’ll be able to or not is a different matter.”

“The
quality of mercy is not strain’d.”

A
short pause ensued, before William stood up and spoke.

“It
droppeth as the gentle rain from heaven

Upon
the place beneath. It is twice blest:

It
blesseth him that gives and him that takes.

'T
is mightiest in the mightiest: it becomes