Having a Ball (22 page)

Tom nodded. For a brief moment, he looked into her eyes. "Don't worry.
It'll all be fine."

Stevie wished she could just stand there, gazing into his eyes and
allowing her fears to be allayed, but she forced herself to pull herself together.
"Thanks."

On her way out, she passed the girls going in. They were giggling at
something and completely ignored her.

As she passed the door to the front room, Stevie could hear the muffled
music from the disco. She popped her head in.

Opening the door immediately increased the volume. Only a few people
were on the dance floor. Dilan was busy at his decks, but was looking a little
bored.

She gave him a wave. He waved back and gave her the thumbs up sign.
Things would hot up soon enough. She nodded and returned to her original
errand.

She put down the empty glasses she was carrying to answer her ringing
phone. It was Lady Beryl.

"There's a man here with a ticket, but his name is not on the list. Come
here immediately."

"Er...right." Stevie ran to the front of the house. When she slewed around
the corner, she saw Lady Beryl nose to nose with a short man in a loud
houndstooth jacket.

"I paid two 'undred and fifty pound for this ticket!" He was red in the face
and neck. Behind him a tall woman in a mustard yellow catsuit was tugging at his
arm.

"I seriously doubt that." Lady Beryl was at her haughtiest.

Stevie put on her brightest smile. "What seems to be the problem?"

"Who're you?" said the man.

"The organiser. Can I help?"

"I paid a fortune for these tickets and this woman says I can't come in."
The man thrust a pair of tickets at her.

"May I?" Stevie took the two tickets and examined them. They looked
genuine. She checked the numbers against the list. They had been allocated to a Mr.
F. Howerd.

"Are you Mr. Howerd?"

"No I bloody well aren't."

The woman in the catsuit coughed.

He seemed to take stock. "I mean. No. I am not," he said, smoothing out
his accent. "I'm Farrier. Bill Farrier."

Stevie cranked the smile up a notch. "Pleased to meet you, Mr. Farrier. I'm
Stevie." She handed the tickets back to him. "I take it you bought these tickets from
Mr. Howerd?"

"Yes. On eBay." He rummaged inside his jacket pocket. "Paid two hundred
and fifty pounds for each of them. Here." He shoved a print out at her.

Stevie read the text with mounting dismay. It clearly implied that the
tickets were for a private meeting with Pete. What's more, it suggested that the
proceeds of the eBay auction were going to the charity, which seemed unlikely. If
Triphoppers found out about this, there would be serious trouble. She wondered if
she and Evelyn could be done for fraud. Really, she rationalised, they'd sold the
tickets in good faith. If anyone could be sued, it would be the eBayer who sold them
on under false pretences. But still, even if nothing came of it, the bad publicity could
be fatal to her fledgling business. Chewing her lip, she looked up to see all three
people watching her.

"Is something wrong?" Lady Beryl sounded uncharacteristically worried.
"You've gone pale."

"Sorry." Stevie said to Mr. Farrier, "I'm afraid, we didn't know anything
about it. Mr. Howerd bought these tickets from us at the normal price and sold
them on without our permission. I'm sorry that you had to pay such an extortionate
amount for them."

The woman in the catsuit whispered something in the man's ear.

"My wife wants to know if that means that Pete from Triphoppers isn't
coming?"

"He is, but we can't guarantee a meeting with him. All I can do is promise
to try."

Lady Beryl grabbed Stevie's arm. "A word." She dragged Stevie away from
the Farriers. "You are not thinking of letting those people in, are you?"

"The tickets are genuine."

"Yes, but they're not the sort of people we want here. Just look at what
that woman is wearing."

Stevie looked Mrs Farrier was, a good two decades younger than he was,
had big blonde hair that didn't match the colour of her plucked eyebrows. Red high
heels and a matching red diamante belt set off her mustard yellow catsuit. She was
what Stevie's friends would call 'Chav totty'.

"I mean, they're so...nouveau riche." Lady Beryl spat the words out with
distaste.

"They still have a valid ticket. We have to let them in."

"But what will Lord Grayingham say? And the Major?!" Lady Beryl's voice
was clearly audible to the Farriers now. Mr. Farrier was starting to go red
again.

"I'm sorry Lady Beryl. I have no choice." Stevie strode back to the couple.
"I will do my best to introduce you to Pete," she said. "I'm sorry you got caught out
by Mr. Howerd, but we really didn't promise anything of the sort."

"I only paid that stupid sum because Cherry here is so keen on Pete," said
Mr. Farrier, his voice softening slightly. His wife, if she was really his wife, slipped a
hand into his.

"I'm sorry."

"I'll be complaining to eBay."

"So will I, Mr. Farrier. So will I."

"I suppose we're here, we may as well stay." Mr. Farrier looked into his
wife's eyes. She gave him a delighted smile.

"Wonderful," said Stevie. "Why don't I show you to the bar." She ushered
the couple into the house, giving the fuming Lady Beryl an apologetic smile over
her shoulder.

In the bar, Olivia and Tom were eating their way through a plate of
nibbles. Vienna was decorously perched on a chair. Tom's eyebrows rose as Stevie
led the guests in, but he maintained his composure. Mrs. Farrier simpered a little
and flicked her hair.

"You got any beer," said Mr. Farrier, putting himself firmly between his
wife and Tom.

"I do indeed." Tom produced a bottle and pint glass.

Mr. Farrier took the bottle and picked up a glass of champagne. "Here you
go love."

Mrs. Farrier took the glass. In her high heels she towered above her
husband.

"There's access to the garden through there." Stevie pointed to the
library. "Or the disco is through here." There were muffled sounds of Abba.

"Ooh, let's dance, Bill." Mrs. Farrier trotted forward, dragging her
reluctant husband behind her.

"What," said Tom, "was that?"

Stevie quickly outlined what was going on.

"Phew," said Olivia. "He made a tidy profit from that."

"I know. I'm furious," Stevie said.

Tom grinned. "Are you annoyed that someone sold the tickets on? Or that
you didn't think of auctioning them in the first place?"

Stevie allowed herself a moment to relax. "Both," she admitted.

Olivia laughed. "I like this girl."

Vienna had been listening to all this in silence. "It takes a lot of money to
make designerwear look that cheap." She sounded thoughtful.

Tom gave her a suspicious glance. "Vienna..."

Vienna grinned and slipped off her seat. "Back in a minute." She
disappeared after the Farriers.

"Vienna." Tom called after her. "Come back here." When she didn't stop,
he swore.

"What?" said Stevie, alarmed by Tom's reaction.

"Think about it," said Olivia. "He's been ripped off. She's a litigation
lawyer..."

Stevie stared at him. Surely, he didn't mean that Vienna would encourage
the Farriers to sue? "But that would reflect badly on Evelyn." She turned back.
"Your Mum!"

Tom scowled and nodded his head.

"That woman has no scruples." Olivia finished her drink.

* * * *

Text from: Alice's phone
To: Stevie's
phone
OMG! HE'S HERE!!!!

* * * *

Stevie rushed toward crowd of people in the hall. At its centre was a
group of giggling girls, who were being held back by a stern-faced woman, and Pete,
who was looking mildly amused.

"Will you sign my bra?" Veronica lifted her top to expose a white lacy
bra.

Pete took a step back. Stevie scanned the room for the journalist and
photographer, but didn't see anyone who looked likely.

"I'm sorry, I don't sign underwear." said Pete. "I'll sign your top, if you
like." He took the marker pen from Veronica, who pulled her top down with a pout.
"If you could let me have your shoulder. It's much easier to write on
shoulders."

"What's your name?" he said.

The girl shot a glance at Stevie and muttered, "Veronica."

Stevie grinned. The girl was clearly regretting having lied about her
name, but couldn't back out now without losing face.

Pete wrote something on the girl's shoulder. "There. Anyone else?"

He spotted Stevie. "Hello Stevie," he said, with what seemed to be relief.
"I'll be right with you."

Stevie grinned. "Take your time."

Pete's guest sidled up to Stevie. "I'm Sharon. From Triphopper's PR
department."

They shook hands.

"Is
Cause Celeb
here?" Sharon looked round the room.

"Not yet," said Stevie apologetically. She had hoped the reporter would be
here before the celebrity. Now she was beginning to worry that the reporter wasn't
coming at all.

Sharon frowned. "We came on the understanding that they would be
here."

"Oh, they will be," said Stevie.

A flash went off as one of the girls took a photo. Stevie motioned Alice to
take one too. If all else failed, they could pass them on to
Cause Celeb
themselves. Alice seemed to spring into life out of a daze. She pulled out her camera
and started snapping away.

Having signed several shoulders and a few pieces of paper, Pete handed
the pen back and smiled at his audience. "Tell me about this charity."

The other girls looked at Alice, who opened her mouth, but managed to
produce only a squeak.

Veronica sighed, tossed her hair and stepped in front of Alice. "It's a
charity based in Sri Lanka." She guided Pete to the display and talked him through
it. Even though it was obvious that she was merely reading what was on the boards,
she kept talking with supreme confidence.

Stevie was impressed. It took a lot of bravado to pull that off.

When Veronica had run out of things to read off the board, Stevie stepped
forward. "Hi Pete."

"Stevie. Lovely to see you again." He shook her hand and kissed her on
the cheek.

"Thanks for coming. Shall I show you round?"

"Yes, please."

Stevie sent Alice off to get some drinks and ushered them into the library.
The others followed, giggling.

* * * *

She was half way round showing Pete and his whispering entourage the
garden when she remembered the Farriers. "Oh," she said. "There's another fan I'd
like you to meet, if you can possibly bear it."

Pete shrugged. "All publicity is good publicity. Lead on."

"Wait here," she said. "I'll just go get them." She went into the disco,
where Mr. and Mrs. Farrier were dancing to Blondie. She caught Mrs. Farrier's eye
and mouthed "Pete's here".

Mrs. Farrier immediately grabbed her husband's hand and dragged him
over.

When they got back to Pete, he was talking to a woman with a cascade of
red hair. "Stevie, this is Amber, from
Cause Celeb
."

Amber turned round. "Hi. You must be the organiser."

"I am." Stevie shook her hand, feeling weak with relief. If the magazine
had failed to send anyone, she would have lost all credibility with Pete.
Remembering her guests, she added, "I've just got to introduce someone to Pete."
She introduced Mr. and Mrs. Farrier. The lady in question giggled and went bright
red. Her husband stepped up and gave Pete a firm handshake.

"Farrier," he said.

"Pete Gosling."

Stevie couldn't help thinking that Pete was utterly charming. So far he'd
been mobbed by teenage girls, glowered at by Lady Beryl and was currently being
alpha-male eyeballed by Mr. Farrier and he was taking it all in his stride.

"I'm from up North myself," Pete was saying.

Mr. Farrier seemed to soften a little. "Whereabouts?"

"Near Knutsford."

"Posh."

Pete laughed. "Very middle class, I think."

Stevie left them chatting and turned to Amber, who was taking photos of
Pete with a handheld camera. "Is there no photographer?"

"No." Amber lowered the camera and gave Stevie a funny look. "This isn't
high profile enough to merit it." She took another photo, the flash went off.

"Who're you?" said Mr. Farrier, glaring at her suspiciously. "Why are you
taking photos?"

"This is Amber." Stevie stepped in smoothly. "She's from
Cause
Celeb
magazine. She's covering Pete's visit to us."

Mrs. Farrier spoke. "Are we going to be in
Cause Celeb
?" she said.
Her voice was unexpectedly deep and melodious. Stevie had been expecting
something more high pitched and squeaky. She glanced at Amber.

"Could be," said Amber. "Depends how the photos turn out." She looked
Mrs. Farrier's outfit up and down and raised the camera again. "May I?"

Mrs. Farrier put her arm through her husband's and posed. She was a
very pretty woman underneath all the makeup and, apparently, used to posing for
the camera. Her husband, on the other hand, appeared stiff and false.

Stevie stepped next to Pete. "Can I get you another drink?"

"Please. Better still..." He gave a swift glance toward Sharon, the PR
woman, who was watching Amber carefully. "Where's the bar."

Gathering that he wanted a moment's quiet, Stevie said, "Just a
second."

She went to Sharon and said, "Those girls over there are very active
members of the Triphoppers forum."

"And?"

"If you wanted to canvas opinion on what the fan base is into, they'll
happily tell you. Veronica, in particular, could be a mine of information. And she'd
probably be very amenable if you asked her to post nice things on the
forum--things that are better coming as a buzz from inside, rather than as part of a press
release, for example."