She turned to look at the giant red inflatable pushed up against the hedge and raised her glass. ‘The night is still young and I am still sober. Give me time.’
Along with the bouncy castle, Dad had hired a big-top-esque striped marquee, supposedly in case of rain that wasn’t forecast but seemed to threaten in the dense, close heat. He’d also added some other circus-style flourishes to the back garden just to get the theme across. A giant stuffed lion that sat in an even bigger cage, a flying trapeze-style swing hanging from the oak tree in the middle of the garden and, to round things off, he’d rented an old fashioned test of strength, complete with wooden mallet and a bell that was yet to be rung. A few of his circuit-training friends tried it when they came in but almost all the men were steering clear. A quarter of the way into the twenty-first century and they were still too scared to have a go at a carnival game in case it made them look like a wuss.
The belle of the birthday ball was having the time of his life. After Mum had vetoed his clown outfit, Dad was now cruising around the party in a hastily put together ringmaster ensemble made up of black trousers, a white shirt, Mum’s pink linen blazer speedily dyed cherry red, and a top hat William had hanging around the house for reasons best known to himself and his consenting husband.
‘I’ll say one thing about your dad,’ Sarah said as he cracked a length of rope wrapped in black electrical tape masquerading as a whip at the head of international sales. ‘He certainly commits to a theme.’
‘Never knowingly failed to take things too far,’ I replied, feeling oddly proud. ‘I do wonder how he’ll cope if he ever retires. He’s never been very good at sitting still.’
‘The bouncy castle kind of gives that away. Are you hungry?’ She licked her lips as the scent of food floatedacross the lawn. The catering was the only thing that wasn’t on theme, instead we had all Dad’s favourite things, mini fish and chips and tiny toad in the hole from the local pub, prawn toasts and spare ribs by the Chinese takeaway down the street and enough sweets to give you diabetes just by looking at them. I shook my head, too on edge to think about eating. Things really were bad if I was off my food.
‘I’m all right for now but please go and get something,’ I told her. ‘I’d rather not end the night holding your hair back over the toilet if it’s all the same.’
‘That’s why I braided it,’ she replied as she trotted off towards the big top. ‘Meet you by the bouncy castle in ten!’
The warm afternoon had turned into a sweltering evening, the kind of English summer night when the air was so heavy you could feel it pressing down on you. A bead of sweat rolled down my spine underneath my beautiful black dress, finally making its debut. It had taken me a good half an hour to convince myself to wear it, trying the thing on and taking it off again three different times, getting as far as the front door in jeans and a T-shirt before finally forcing myself to put it back on, fasten the zip and walk out the cottage with my head held, well, not exactly high but I was doing OK.
‘There she is, just the bestselling author we were looking for.’
At least until I turned to see my agent and my godfather-turned-publisher stalking towards me.
‘William,’ I said, offering my cheek to my brother and then my godfather. ‘Mal, you look very dapper.’
He removed his bowler hat and attempted to fanhimself but it was no use, there was no air to move. ‘I’m sweating my tits off. If only I could go back in time and kill the bastard who decided men should wear suits, I’d be a much happier man.’
‘Yes, that’s definitely the first person we should take out when we come across that kind of technology,’ I agreed. ‘A nineteenth-century tailor.’
Neither of them so much as cracked a smile.
‘Going to go out on a limb and say you didn’t pop over for a lovely chat,’ I guessed before tipping my champagne flute to my lips.
‘Do you want to explain why Gregory Brent is telling everyone who will listen that his son is Este Cox?’ Mal asked, straining to keep his voice quiet. Quiet was not his natural state.
‘Not really,’ I replied, looking past him. ‘Where are your very patient wife and demonically possessed son?’
‘Xavier is pitching a fit in the car because your little sister won’t let him bring his iPad in with him, Rosa is trying to talk him down, and don’t change the subject and I’d like an answer.’
Across the garden, Gregory was merrily holding court in another unmistakably ringmaster-inspired outfit. Not nearly as charming as my dad’s but also not bleeding red dye onto the back of his neck.
‘He shouldn’t be saying anything to anyone,’ I said, my mouth twisting into a frown. ‘Charlotte will absolutely end him if she hears about this.’
‘Silver linings,’ William said brightly. ‘It’s not only Xavier who’s off screentime, she took all our phones, put them in little sandwich bags and hid them somewhere. That girl isn’t taking any chances.’
‘Then that makes one bright spark out of the three ofyou,’ Mal said as I searched the crowd for our baby sister. I’d seen her earlier, flitting around in a gauzy transparent maxi dress with a silver bikini underneath, my Chanel bag slung across her body. Her hair was a dreamy lavender colour and full of glitter that trailed behind her like fairy dust. If only she wasn’t going around the party demanding the guests turn out their pockets to make sure they hadn’t snuck in any recording devices. Zadie Smith hadn’t looked amused in the slightest and Kate Atkinson almost chopped her hands off. ‘What were the two of you thinking mixing Joe Walsh up in all this?’
‘It’s not as though we planned it,’ I replied, William shifting his weight and allegiance towards me when he realised he was also on the receiving end of this bollocking. ‘Charlotte found the manuscript—’
‘Which you should’ve given to me on Thursday.’
‘And I didn’t know what to do—’
‘Besides tell the truth.’
‘And Joe jumped in before I could say anything.’
‘And I wasn’t there,’ William added quickly. ‘I was having a slash, missed the whole thing, not responsible.’
‘You’re responsible for letting her go on with this pretence as long as she has.’ Mal nabbed my drink from my hand and took a chug. ‘Enough’s enough. It’s time to come forward, Soph.’
