Just a Family Affair (39 page)

‘You’d soon get bored,’ her mother told her.

‘You’ve got to be joking!’ Sasha looked back at her, incredulous. ‘This is heaven.’

Ginny had to admit that the glitzy setting did suit her daughter, and that their table was getting admiring glances from male passers-by. Yet again she felt like the elderly chaperone. She didn’t want to put off any potential suitors. She didn’t want to cramp their style.

She knew she shouldn’t have come. She should have stayed at home and built bridges with Keith. They could have gone to Stratford together: they still had to choose a wedding present for Mandy and Patrick. She wondered what he was up to. She pulled her phone out to give him a ring, then remembered that she hadn’t done whatever complicated thing it was that meant she could make international calls. In fact, her phone probably didn’t work abroad at all. It was old-fashioned and out of date. Just like she was. She tossed it back into her bag.

‘I think I’ll go back to the villa and have a siesta,’ she said, ‘if we’re going to be out until all hours this evening.’

The truth was she didn’t fancy trailing in and out of the shops with them all. She would either be called upon to give the twins superfluous reassurance or money, both of which she felt ill-inclined to bestow when they needed neither - they would each look stunning in a bin bag and she knew perfectly well David had slipped them a wad of cash before they went away.

‘Aren’t you going to come shopping?’ Kitty looked concerned.

‘To be honest, I’d rather lie by the pool and read.’ Ginny spied a taxi and waved her hand in the air.

Half an hour later, she was stretched out on a teak sun lounger by Sandra’s pool, but she couldn’t relax. What was the matter with her? She sighed. She needed to get a grip. She couldn’t put a damper on everything for the rest of her life. There was quite a bit of it left, after all. She shifted onto her stomach, trying to get comfortable. The problem was she wasn’t happy in her own skin any more. She didn’t feel as if she belonged. She was the first to acknowledge that she wasn’t in the first flush of youth, but why did she feel the need to melt into the background all the time? It didn’t happen to everyone when they hit middle age, after all. Look at Lucy Liddiard: still confident, gorgeous, stylish - Lucy would be happy to be out with the girls, shopping and lunching and giggling. As would Sandra . . . Sandra, who was the wrong side of fifty and positively radiant. Ginny just felt grey and lifeless and boring.

As she lay there debating her dilemma, becoming increasingly miserable, Sandra’s advice - to ‘give nature a helping hand’ - kept coming back to her. Gradually it dawned on Ginny that perhaps there was something in it. According to the papers and magazines, everyone was doing it. And if it made you happier with yourself, then why not? She burrowed in her handbag for Sandra’s brochure, which she’d meant to bin at the first opportunity. She leafed through it carefully, looking at the photographs, reading the testimonials. Maybe Sandra was right? She should give it a go. And if she didn’t like it, if it didn’t do anything for her, she needn’t bother again. On the other hand, if it was a miracle, then she’d be stuck with top-ups every six months for the rest of her life. But then, she was earning money, proper money. Why shouldn’t she spend it on something that made her feel better?

Gingerly, she picked up the phone and dialled the clinic.

‘Mrs Sherwyn told me to expect your call,’ the efficient manageress informed her, and Ginny felt a flash of annoyance. Then she thought, bugger it.

‘Yes,’ she replied crisply. ‘I’d like to book some treatments, please.’

Ten minutes later she put the phone down. Marie-Claire had agreed to block out two hours of her time on Monday in order to have a proper consultation and then proceed with whatever treatment they decided Ginny needed. She’d been very reassuring.

Ginny stretched in satisfaction, yawned, and picked up her Maeve Binchy, having long given up on Zadie Smith. Some time later, she awoke to find Alejandro standing over her. She sat up, hastily covering herself with a towel.

‘I’ve come to prepare some tapas before you go out tonight,’ he smiled. ‘To line the stomachs. It will be late before you eat.’

Ginny looked at her watch. She’d been asleep nearly two hours. ‘The girls should be back any minute.’

Alejandro spied the brochure on the table beside her. He picked it up, frowning. ‘You don’t need this.’

‘I so do,’ she laughed in reply, sounding like one of her daughters.

‘You want to look like Mrs Sherwyn and her friends?’ he demanded. ‘They all look the same.’

He affected a rather surprised look with a pronounced pout, and Ginny collapsed into giggles.

‘Sandra looks bloody fantastic,’ she told him. ‘I don’t care what anyone says. I’m going to give it a go.’

Alejandro shook his head sadly. ‘Crazy.’

He dropped the brochure back on the table distastefully and walked away. Ginny shut her eyes. She wasn’t going to argue. How would someone like him have any idea what it was like, to feel long past your sell-by date?

 

Patrick wasn’t a great one for shopping. He and Mayday had agreed to go their separate ways and meet up at tea time. He headed for Jermyn Street, and had done everything he needed after one hour. He bought himself a pair of Oliver Sweeney Chelsea boots, highly polished with a lime-green lining. They would go perfectly with his morning suit but he’d be able to wear them with anything afterwards. And he topped up on some new shirts from Thomas Pink. With at least another hour to kill, he treated himself to a new haircut and a wet shave at Trumpers. He sat in a mahogany-lined cubicle, while the barber worked up a lather of soap on his skin with a badger brush and set to with a terrifyingly sharp razor. Afterwards, he felt as if the top layer of his skin had been taken off, but he couldn’t deny that his complexion looked about ten years younger. And his hair was cut to perfection; layered short into the neck but keeping the fringe and top long. Another week would take the newness off it. He gave his reflection a rueful grin. He would do.

He made his way over to Knightsbridge and found Mayday in Harvey Nichols, burdened down with carrier bags.

‘Have you spent all your money?’ he asked.

She smiled, thinking that it would take more than an afternoon to get rid of her prize money. Though she hadn’t done badly. She’d booked a personal shopper, and been surprised to find how much she had enjoyed them bringing her outfit after outfit that fitted the brief she’d given. For the first time in her life she experienced the cut, the fabric, the finish and the detail that went with designer clothing, and was amazed to find how much she relished it. She had always enjoyed expressing herself through what she wore, but this lifted dressing up to another level. And the assistants had loved attending to her, with her rock-chick looks, her wild hair, and her attitude that meant she could get away with outfits that most customers shied away from. She had come out of the dressing room elated, her bags stuffed with Temperley, Sass & Bide, Stella McCartney, Matthew Williamson and Alexander McQueen. Not to mention a raft of boots and shoes.

There was just one more detail to complete the makeover.

‘I want some new perfume,’ she announced. ‘I’ve worn the same thing for years and years. I want a change. Choose something for me, Patrick.’

Patrick was unnerved by the challenge. Mayday had smelt the same for as long as he could remember: Thierry Mugler’s Angel, with its heavy, seductive scent of vanilla. Patrick couldn’t imagine her smelling of anything else. But he liked the idea of choosing a new perfume for her, as if he was in some way branding her. She led him through to the cosmetics hall, where the search began in earnest. They worked their way through the different counters, spritzing clouds of cologne and eau de toilette onto little strips of cardboard, breathing in the myriad fragrances: musk, pepper, amber, jasmine, bergamot, mimosa, lily of the valley, honeysuckle, ginger, ylang ylang, basil, sandalwood, patchouli, orange blossom. There was a concoction for every type of woman, from sophisticated to youthful to carefree to wanton. Patrick needed something that captured a mass of contradictions.

In the end, he chose from Annick Goutal. The subtlety of her fragrances seemed to evoke rather than dictate emotion, with a haunting after-effect. Mayday’s heart was thumping as he dabbed his final choice behind her ears, on her wrists, and on the beating pulse in her neck. The smell of Turkish rose enveloped her, making her feel quite giddy as the words on the bottle repeated themselves to her over and over again.

Was this a message from him to her? Or was it just a coincidence? He was probably blissfully unaware of the irony.

Ce Soir ou Jamais.

Tonight or never.

 

By the time the girls came back, Ginny realized she’d made a terrible mistake. Falling asleep in the Mediterranean sun had been asking for trouble, even though she had slathered herself with sun cream. She was burnt to a crisp, her head was throbbing and she felt sick.

‘I’ll have to give this evening a miss,’ she announced in the kitchen glumly, sitting on a barstool with her head in her hands.

The others groaned in protest. But she stood her ground.

‘Honestly. I feel dreadful. And I don’t want to start bleating that I want to go home at eleven o’clock.’

‘Alejandro! Tell her she’s got to come.’

Alejandro paused in the middle of slicing up the tortilla he had made to keep them going. He looked at Ginny and frowned. ‘You’ve made the tourist’s worst mistake,’ he chided. ‘You underestimate the strength of the sun.’ He held a hand over her bright red chest. ‘I can feel the heat from here.’

If Ginny could have gone any redder, she would have.

‘I’m staying here,’ she insisted. ‘No one wants to see Lobsterwoman out on the town. Anyway, you’ll have more fun if I’m not in tow.’

‘Just come for the meal. It won’t be the same without you,’ Mandy begged.

Ginny had been so sweet and supportive to her over the years, and had made her dad so happy. Mandy was mortified to think she might feel surplus to requirements. Besides, she didn’t want things to get too wild, and without Ginny there to keep the others in check she might lose control. She wasn’t too worried about Kitty, but Sasha and Caroline were equally unmanageable when their blood was up.

Ginny, however, could not be persuaded.

Alejandro nodded his approval.

‘I think you are very wise to stay behind.’ He pulled a sharp knife from the drawer and started hacking up lemons, squeezing the juice into a tall glass jug. ‘Go and get ready, girls. You haven’t got that long to make yourselves beautiful.’

And he ducked as an indignant Sasha threw a lemon at his head.

 

Two hours later, the four girls lined up in front of Ginny for inspection. They each looked stunning and totally different. Mandy, cool and sharp in embroidered white linen trousers and a turquoise crocheted vest. Kitty, bohemian in a pink baby-doll dress emblazoned with skulls. Sasha, glitzy in a backless mini sheath. And Caroline, voluptuous in a bias cut Missoni-style striped halter neck that displayed her staggering cleavage. The sun had kissed them all. They were golden and glowing, filled with champagne bubbles and laughter.

Then Sasha and Kitty produced a customised tiara for Mandy - a concoction of tulle, pearls and twinkly fairylights to show she was the bride-to-be.

‘It’s got to be done, Mandy. Every girl has to be humiliated on her hen night,’ Sasha told her. ‘Just be grateful that it’s not a hat with condoms swinging from the brim.’

Mandy gave in with good grace, then got her own back by producing sparkly hot-pink Stetsons for them all to wear as members of her hen party.

‘I knew there was no way you’d let me get away with it,’ she grinned at the twins. ‘And I wasn’t going to be the only one to stand out in the crowd.’

‘You won’t stand out in Puerto Banus,’ Alejandro assured them. He was used to seeing hordes of strangely dressed girls prowling the streets. By the end of the night they were usually incoherent and legless - he had often found half-dressed fairies and fallen angels slumped in the gutter, their shoes in their hands. He just hoped this lot had more self-control, but in case they didn’t he had already warned his network of friends to look out for them, and make sure they didn’t get into any trouble. Puerto Banus might be a party town, but it sometimes ended in tears.

‘I will drive the girls to the restaurant,’ said Alejandro. ‘And you, Ginny - you must drink some of my lemonade and take one of these. It will settle your stomach and clear your head.’

Alejandro handed her a glass filled with lemonade and a tablet.

‘Then go to sleep. Just for an hour. I will wake you when I come back. You will be better, I promise.’

Sasha giggled. ‘I don’t know if we should trust Mum and Alejandro alone together.’

Ginny rolled her eyes. The prospect of the two of them getting up to anything was utterly preposterous.

‘Have a fantastic evening,’ she urged, kissing each of them. ‘I am watching Keanu Reeves on Sky and going to bed early. See you at dawn.’

As soon as they had gone, she flopped onto the sofa with a sigh of relief. The last thing she had wanted was to dress up and spend the evening drinking in hot, sweaty, crowded bars full of beautiful young people. She flicked on the television, then swallowed the pill Alejandro had given her, enjoying the tart coolness of the lemonade as it slid down her throat. She shut her eyes, deciding she would have a nap for half an hour until he came back. Then she’d have a quick supper and an early night so she could make the most of the next day, when hopefully the effects of too much sun would have worn off.

Alejandro couldn’t help grinning as he drove along the coast road and dropped down towards the marina. The sun was still shining, the windows were down, the music was blaring and the girls sang along. As they hit the streets, he got envious glances from passers-by - and whistles and waves that the girls returned. They had only shared one bottle of champagne between them before going out, but he did wonder if they’d had anything else, their spirits were so high.