Valentine Present and Other Diabolical Liberties (28 page)

     
‘Whatever, it doesn’t matter. I’ve got good news Harry. I’ve got a backer for the restaurant.’

Oh, excuse me while I do a little jig. I let out a long lingering sigh.

      ‘Great news isn’t it? The thing is, his money will help with some of the debts but I was thinking maybe Hamilton could throw some money in too and …’

     
‘What?’ I say.

I can’t believe I’m hearing this.

      ‘I’ve worked it all out. He’s loaded Harriet, the family have money to throw away.’

Yes, but not necessarily in your direction.

      ‘We can get ourselves out of this mess and get our lives back to normal,’ he continues. ‘I can’t wait to see you babe, I’ve missed you so much.’

He’s got to be joking. And what does he mean
we can get ourselves out of this mess
, doesn’t he mean
his
mess?

     
‘Julian, I hate to burst your bubble but I haven’t missed you at all, and I don’t want to see you. I’m not helping you pay your bills. I’m only paying what I owe. You lied to me.’

     
‘Come on babe, I love you and you love me, we have a flat together.’

H
e makes it sound like we’ve had a child together.

     
‘It’s my flat, and I’m not sharing it with you or anyone. I’m livid with you Julian. I’ve had to lie to my parents and to Caron. You completely shattered my dreams,’ I say and much to my annoyance I feel tears well up. Oh great, all I need is for Julian to hear me cry.

     
‘Come on Harry, don’t overreact. You know you would never have gone to Angola …’

     
‘It wasn’t bloody Angola,’ I shout. ‘Why do you keep saying that?’

     
‘Okay, okay. Does it matter? The thing is, we have the restaurant and the flat and well, the rest of our lives together. We just need to get these debts and the Jacks sorted and we’ll be the way we used to be.’

     
‘I don’t want to be the way we used to be.’

I hear him sigh.

      ‘Harriet, I’m coming to Glenwood. I need to ask Hamilton for some money.’

     
‘He won’t give it to you,’ I say bluntly.

     
‘He will, especially when I threaten to tell his grandmother you’re not really his girlfriend, but mine.’

I gasp in horror.

      ‘Julian, don’t you dare.’

     
‘I’m doing this for us babe. I’m in Scotland and I’m coming to Glenwood. We’ve got to get our lives back to normal.’

     
‘Christ Julian, life with you was far from normal, and don’t you dare come here. I’m warning you Julian, I won’t be responsible for my actions if you do,’ I say, recalling my expertise with a shotgun.

I slam the phone down in anger and realise I didn’t tell him that the Jacks are in Scotland too. Oh bugger it. Bugger Julian, bugger the Jacks and bugger Hamilton bleeding Lancaster. I’ll be glad when Saturday arrives. I’ll be out of here faster than a whippet.

     
I’ve been to many cringe-worthy dinner parties in my time but never one where I have been so drunk that I could barely see the dinner table. I’m living my worst nightmare, a dinner with Hamilton’s family and my parents, along with Caron and Gary and the shadow of Julian hanging over me like a bloody shroud. It wouldn’t have been so bad if it had just been Hamilton’s family, but Hamilton’s family in full Scottish regalia is a little too much. Both Sebastian and Hamilton are wearing kilts. Blessings of blessings though, they are both wearing black tights underneath. Hamilton hasn’t stopped pointing out the pattern on his sporran. Caron blushes every time she looks at it, and I can see Gary does not know what to make of men who wear skirts to dinner. Melanie is wearing a tartan sash over her dress, and Margarita has been sporting a very fashionable tartan shawl all day. I expect them to launch into a Highland fling at any moment. I’ve had so much champagne that even Hamilton is beginning to look appealing. Not as appealing as Brice however, who is wearing the same dinner suit he wore at Silvia’s wedding, and I’m struggling to keep my eyes off him.

     
‘You’re getting drunk,’ hisses Hamilton as he takes my arm. ‘Don’t do anything stupid.’

Well I couldn’t look any
more stupid than him in his bleeding kilt could I? I pull myself away and sway towards Caron.

     
‘Hamilton’s lovely,’ she whispers. ‘You’re so lucky Harriet.’

Bleeding hell, which part of Hamilton has she found lovely? I’m obviously looking in all the wrong places.

      ‘He is isn’t he?’ I lie.

Phoebe glides in wearing a black strapless dress that hangs to her ankles. Spar
kling on her wrist is a diamond-studded bracelet. Her hair has been freed from the earlier bun and hangs loosely around her shoulders. She looks amazing and I find myself wondering why Hamilton didn’t just get engaged to her. She is surely more suited to this life than me.

     
‘Who is that? She’s stunning,’ asks Caron, staring wide-eyed.

     
‘A friend of the family,’ I slur, ‘but she’s no friend of mine.’

Phoebe glides towards us on a cloud of Chanel perfume.

      ‘Hello, this must be your family Harriet, how quaint. Interesting hair,’ she says looking at Caron. ‘Oh, and I love this little thing,’ she adds, fingering Caron’s cocktail dress.

     
‘Where did you get it? I’ve seen nothing like it,’ she purrs.

     
‘Mum and I went to Debenhams,’ Caron says proudly.

Phoebe wrinkles her nose.

      ‘Debenhams? I had no idea they sold clothes.’

     
‘You’d be surprised what goes on outside the confines of Harrods Phoebe,’ interjects Brice, taking my empty glass as he does so. ‘Enough, don’t you think?’ he whispers.

What a sodding cheek. I beckon to Gregory who is carrying a tray of champagne flutes.

      ‘Another please?’ I say, avoiding Brice’s raised eyebrows.

     
‘Brice, how are you? I thought you’d be on that rickety boat of yours. How is darling Lara?’ Phoebe says, seductively pushing her breasts towards him. God, they look as huge as my falsies except these are the real McCoy. I feel decidedly flat-chested compared to her, and decidedly dowdy in my River Island chenille dress. He steps back to avoid being assaulted by her Dolly Parton breasts.

     
‘Back home in South Africa, I imagine,’ he responds.

I wander away from Phoebe and Brice but not before I hear Melanie say quietly,

      ‘Phoebe, such bad timing dear.’

     
‘I’m sorry Melanie. I didn’t get Hamilton’s texts. I have to say this whole thing disgusts me.’

I down my champagne and try to digest what I have just heard. Has Melanie known about Hamilton’s deceit all along? Does this mean that Brice has known too? What the fuck is going on? Is he just playing with the common girl from Battersea? What a bloody diabolical liberty, I feel my cheeks flame and
join my parents. Dad is looking extremely uncomfortable in his old suit, which is now at least one size too small, and he constantly tugs at his tie. Fiona stands beside him, looking as gorgeous as ever. Her eyes are riveted on Sebastian and anyone who had been in doubt that she fancied him is unlikely to be any longer.

     
‘Fi, you’re really transparent. Where’s Alistair?’

     
‘Alistair’s having a wonderful time looking at whiskies with Major Bates. Talk about bloody boring.’

     
‘What do they want to look at them for? Alcohol is for drinking, not for looking at, that’s what I say,’ says Gary from behind us. ‘I have to say the booze here is fan-bloody-tastic.’

     
‘Enjoying your lager are you?’ I say. ‘Tastes just as good out of a glass does it?’

     
‘Harriet,’ admonishes Mum.

     
‘Yes I know. I’m sorry.’

Yes Harriet, what is wrong with you? I’ve felt angry ever since Julian phoned, and I’ve not been able to tell anyone, not even Fiona. There just hasn’t been time.

Cedric approaches with a tray and Mum pulls a face.

     
‘What can I get you madam?’

     
‘Can I have a port and lemon love? Caron, do you want another wine spritzer?’

I try to hide my cringe.

      ‘Would that be port with a slice of lemon madam?’

Mum laughs.

      ‘No darling, port with lemonade. Douglas do you want another shandy?’

Oh this is just too gruesome to bear.

      ‘Yes madam, one shandy, one spritzer and a port and lemon coming up.’

T
hey’ll be asking for bleeding pork scratchings next.

     
‘It is dead posh here dear,’ Mum says nervously. ‘I really didn’t know whether to get in
the bath or
to take a photo of it. Everything in our room looks much too good to use.’

     
‘Don’t be silly Mum, think of it as a posh hotel,’ I say. ‘Mum I really need to talk to you about Hamilton …’

     
‘Are our clothes okay do you think?’

     
‘Well at least I’m wearing men’s clothes,’ says Dad, yanking at his tie again.

     
‘Will you leave that alone Douglas, anyone would think you’d never worn a tie before.’

     
‘I normally only wear them for funerals, and this suit’s a bit on the tight side. I’ve never felt so trussed up in my life.’

     
‘Well, this isn’t a funeral is it?’ snaps Mum.

     
‘I don’t know what it is. Men in skirts, I’ve seen nothing like it.’

I stifle my giggle.

      ‘Are you pissed young lady, whatever will Hamilton think?’

I don’t give a flying fig what Hamilton bloody thinks.

      ‘About Hamilton,’ I try again.

     
‘Is Hamilton giving you the ring tomorrow?’ interrupts Caron sipping from her white wine spritzer.

     
‘Yes, it was his great grandmother’s. It’s an antique, but the thing is …’

Mum shrieks.

      ‘Oh my giddy aunt, why that’s just bleeding marvellous.’

     
‘You won’t have to worry about that debt Julian got you into,’ adds Caron.

     
‘No, it’s more complicated than you think …’

     
‘Does Jules know?’ asks Gary.

     
‘Yes, obviously he’s not happy …’

     
‘Hamilton’s a far better catch dear,’ says Dad.

     
‘Oh absolutely,’ agrees Mum.

Oh God, I can’t get a word in edgewise.

      ‘Julian might come here,’ I say without thinking.

     
‘What, well you’ll just have to tell him to leave,’ says Mum.

     
‘The thing is, this engagement with Hamilton is just …’

     
‘Just what dear?’ asks Mum, her cheeks rosy from the champagne.

     
‘Well you remember those gangsters and …’

There is a sudden hush as everyone stops talking, everyone except me, and my
well, you remember those gangsters and,
seem to reverberate around the hall. Don’t you just hate it when that happens? I turn to see Margarita standing in the doorway.

     
‘It’s Margarita,’ I say in way of explanation, ‘Hamilton’s grandmother.’

     
‘Anyone would think she was the queen,’ whispers Caron.

Margarita walks stiffly towards us, leaning heavily on her stick, with Lionel following closely behind.

      ‘So these are your parents,’ she says, studying my mother closely.

No, they’re two aliens from the planet
Vogon actually, I want to say but fight back the impulse.

     
‘Yes Margarita, this is my mum, Lillian, and my dad, Douglas.’

Mum hovers between a curtsy and a bow and finally decides to do neither but simply holds out a shaky hand.

      ‘It’s an honour to meet you ...’ she says hesitantly and looks to me for guidance.

     
‘Margarita or Mrs Lancaster whatever you prefer. Unfortunately I was not graced with a title. Those are given to people who rarely deserve them I think,’ Margarita says looking at her son.

     
‘Was it a good journey for you?’

     
‘Very nice thank you,’ says Dad in his best posh voice.

     
‘Cedric, get Hamilton’s parents a drink. You don’t have to drink champagne just because it’s being offered. I’ll have a Bloody Mary please Cedric. How about you Mrs Lawson? What can Cedric get you?’

     
‘Well I was going to have a port and lemon but maybe I’ll have a bloody Margarita too. I’ve never had one of those,’ says Mum.

I don’t think anyone has had one of those. I
cringe and Phoebe hides a snigger.

     
‘Do you really think you have the breeding to marry someone like Hamilton?’ whispers Phoebe. ‘I hope you realise you’re making a complete fool of yourself.’

I glance at Brice as he chats to Sebastian. He has one hand in the pocket of his trousers and looks completely relaxed. I realise that Phoebe is of course quite right and I really don’t fit in here. I must be out of my mind to think that Brice actually likes me, for me. I suppose I am just a distraction. I must be to him, and all of these upper
-class toffs, a circus freak, a clown for their amusement. What a fool I’ve been. I turn away from Phoebe without answering and am relieved when Cedric rings the bell for us to take our places at the table. Damn and double damn, I’ve lost my chance to explain to Mum about Hamilton, the Jacks and that the engagement is not for real. I grab another champagne flute and make my way to the table.

Mum gasps.

      ‘What a lovely spread, all that work,’ she mumbles.

     
‘Allow me,’ says Brice, pulling out a chair for her. He waits until the women are seated before taking his place between us.

     
‘Scotch broth to start,’ says Melanie. ‘It is cook’s speciality. I don’t think anyone makes it quite like her.’

     
‘Heinz don’t do a bad job,’ mumbles Gary.

     
‘Is it tr-tr-tr-tr- …’ stutters Alistair.

Fiona rolls her eyes

      ‘True?’ asks Margarita. ‘Of course it’s true, why would Melanie lie?’

     
‘No, I was asking if it is tr-tr-tradition to wear kilts for dinner?’ finishes a red-faced Alistair.

     
‘We like to when entertaining,’ says Hamilton with a smug smile. I find him more repugnant by the minute.

     
‘Is it the L-L-La-La- …’

     
‘Jesus,’ mumbles Fiona.

     
‘Lamb?’ I offer.

     
‘We’re having Scottish beef aren’t we Melanie?’ questions Margarita.

     
‘Or trout, but if you would prefer lamb Alistair, I’m sure we can arrange something,’ Melanie says gesturing to Cedric.

Alistair sighs.

      ‘L-Lancaster tartan that you wear?’ he asks.

     
‘Don’t be ridiculous young man, there is no such thing.’ Margarita barks.

Melanie dismisses Cedric and Alistair returns to his soup.

      ‘How do you like Scotland?’ Margarita asks my parents.

     
‘We really only saw it from the coach, didn’t we dear,’ says Dad as he dunks a roll in the soup.