I watched them squabble back and forth, curiously, wondering if this was a good example of sibling behaviour. I wish I’d known what that was like – to have a sister, or even a brother, to share my life with. To tell my secrets to. An ally for life.
“Let’s take a look at the snack table, Grace, and see if there’s anything worth munching,” said Eugenie, dragging me by the shoulder away from Dorian.
“Hey – I’m about to introduce her to some people. Grace, stay with me.”
“No, she wants to come with me, don’t you Grace?”
The total lack of professionalism was so refreshing that I found myself creasing up with laughter. I hadn’t been around people on the outside for so long, between one morbid house and the other. A rush of euphoria came over me, to feel so wanted by two people that I could be the subject of their jealousy. Dorian and Eugenie took an arm each and yanked me back and forth until I spilled my champagne.
“All right, all right – I’ll go with Eugenie,” I said eventually, wiping tears of laughter from my eyes.
Dorian pulled a face like a dejected child. “Fine. But don’t keep her long,” he said, eyeing Eugenie with a spiteful look in his eye. “She’smyguest.”
“Off you trot,” said Eugenie, triumphantly linking her arm with mine.
She was taller than me, lanky almost, but it gave her such charm. She looked like an exotic bird, with her slightly hooked nose and her rouged lips, with feathers in her hair. Eugenie beamed with such light and life and her own dazzling personality that I warmed to her instantly, elated that she wanted to be my friend.
We approached the buffet and eyed it curiously, but it was obvious neither of us was interested in eating. Eugenie found a waiter giving out tall cut-glass mojitos with sprigs of mint and snatched one for each of us.
“Finally, we got rid of that dullard,” she said, taking a long sip. I followed suit and found I quite liked the light, refreshing taste, especially with the mint.
“He’s been lovely to me, really,” I said. “He was so kind to invite me.”
Eugenie snorted. “Oh bore off with that. He wants a date with you, no doubt – has he asked you yet?”
Heat rose in my cheeks, but only a little. It felt rude to talk about her brother this way, even if she was the one who raised the question.
“No, he hasn’t,” I said, taking a bigger sip of my drink. “Nick set us up. Nicholas Crowthorne.”
“Oh,” said Eugenie, cocking an eyebrow. “Did he. Dreamy Mr Crowthorne. I’ve met him. Quite a miserable man, mind you.”
“Oh he isn’t miserable at all, not once you get to know him,” I said, heat rushing back to my cheeks. Instantly I thought of his mouth on mine, howniceit was, how warm and –
Eugenie smirked in a knowing way that shut me up instantly.
“Oh, daddy,” she said, winking one eye. “Do let me know what that’s like.”
I cleared my throat, looking down at my shoes. When I took another sip of my drink, my hand was shaking. Eugenie elbowed me in the ribs.
“Hey, lighten up. Don’t be so bashful. We’re all friends here, Grace.” She took a long sip of her mojito. “I can tell you don’t fancy my brother in the slightest. That’s his problem, not yours.”
“How –” I was about to ask without confirming ordenying it, but I realised the question itself revealed me. Eugenie and I laughed in unison. There’d be no denying it now.
“He’s handsome and kind and smart. I’m sure thousands of women would want him,” I said. But she was right – I wasn’t one of them.
“Oh he’ll meet someone who cares more about his wallet than his wits, I daresay,” said Eugenie, letting out a low belch. “With any luck he’ll get the message before he asks you out, but don’t count on it.”
I hoped he would. It would save me the awkwardness. There was only one man I couldn’t stop thinking about, and it wasn’t Dorian.
“So, are you an accountant too, Eugenie?” I asked, hoping to sound bold and sure of myself instead of the nervous shrew I felt like inside.
She scoffed. “God,no! I work in the theatres. I’m a costume designer. I just tag along to these events with Dor for the free booze,” she said. “And I’m a magician’s assistant, too. I can fold myself down into the tiniest box, among other things...it’s all smoke and mirrors really. We’re on again, off again, me and Bill. He’s the magician.”
We gazed around the room, watching the guests mingling in their finery. There were a handful of older gentlemen, much older than Nick, gathered by a twisted metal statue of a stick-figure man digging with a spade. They looked bored out of their skulls, and had an air of indifference about them, as if they'd been to far too many charity functions.
“Funeral directors,” said Eugenie, biting into an apple she’d picked from the fruit bowl. “Personally I’d rather a Nick Crowthorne curled my hair after I’ve snuffed it, ratherthan that sad old bunch.”
She seemed to defend Nick without mention of the rumours against him, as if she knew about his poor reputation. It comforted me to hear her defence of him.
