‘But it always does, Sybs, it always does without me. I don’t know what Sid has been up to. He’s probably hit the port. But really, you simply can’t leave your guests without a drink.’
‘Just as well he wasn’t left in charge of his sausage then,’ Sybil replied stoutly. The sisters caught each other’s eyes and burst into giggles.
Callie stared at them. They were unlike anyone she’d ever met and certainly nothing like her own dour, joyless parents. She joined in with the laughter.
‘Ah, there you are.’ Johnny appeared and gave his mother and aunt a kiss.
‘Hello, Jonathan darling,’ Dorrie said as she proffered her cheek. ‘You really must look after your guests better. Poor Callie has been left to the tender mercies of your Aunt Sybil.’
‘Rather harsh, Dorrie. I took Carrie under my wing.’ Sybil emptied her glass. ‘Off for another,’ she declared and barged her way through the crowd now three deep at the makeshift bar.
‘I’m so sorry, Calliope. I looked around and one minute you were behind me, the next you’d gone. Jess needed help to cart all her stuff into the sitting room and then I got cornered by aunts Becky and Maria.’
‘And I expect The Gruesome Twosome gave you quite the grilling,’ his mother said.
‘Couldn’t get away.’
Dorrie tapped him on the arm. ‘Well, you know the answer to that.’ She nodded meaningfully at Callie.
‘Thanks, Ma. Subtle as a flying brick.’
‘Just saying, darling boy. The solution is right in front of you,’ Dorrie said airily. ‘Now, you two, I must away and sort out this absolute dregs of a party, otherwise it’ll be Christmas before anyone eats. Look after her, Johnny, and don’t let Sybs pounce again.’ She leaned nearer and hissed, ‘She’sdrinking.’
Dorrie ducked gracefully between several couples and glided away, a vision in shimmering pink chiffon. Johnny glanced ruefully at Callie. ‘You okay?’
She laughed up at him. ‘I’m having a wonderful time. It may be the champagne talking on an empty stomach, but it’s been great fun so far.’
‘Fun? I’ve never heard my Aunt Sybil be described as fun.’ He steered her away from the crush on the terrace, down the steps and towards a patio heater which blazed with a welcoming heat. ‘Overbearing, feisty, fiercely intelligent, prone to the occasional bizarre idiom, but fun? No.’
Reaching the heater, they stood underneath it. She gazed up at him, enjoying the warmth and the sight of his dark hair glowing orange in the heat and shivered a little.
‘Are you cold?’ Johnny’s brow crinkled in concern. Then he breathed out, ‘You look very lovely, by the way.’
Callie sent up a silent prayer that, despite many of the other guests being dressed to the nines in enough sequins to furnish movie night onStrictly, her black jeans and white silky vest didn’t look too out of place. Shewaschilly and goosebumps were rising on her upper arms. Nothing, though, would induce her to move and spoil the spell. Shaking her head she wondered what Johnny would do if she stretched up and kissed him. It was a terrible idea but an intoxicating one. She suddenly became very aware of her naked shoulders and how deep the vest dipped at the front.
They smiled at one another and, at that moment, the garden burst into light. Sidney Starling was lighting the great fire pitsdotted around at intervals. As he moved from one to the other flames shot into the night, sending fiery embers into the starlit sky. It was impressive and Callie observed, with her teacher’s hat on, a health and safety nightmare.
In one corner of the garden, there was a flurry of activity as a bank of barbecues were fired up. In the other, illuminated by the now brighter white lights, a quartet began to play something softly jazzy and classic. ‘The Way You Look Tonight’, she recognised. Agonisingly romantic. Everyone cheered. One or two brave souls even ventured onto the lawn and began to dance.
Callie tore her eyes from Johnny’s and gazed around her. The garden, having sunk into gloom, was now shimmering with light and heat and filled with gentle chatter and the clink of glasses. It was like a grown-up fairyland. ‘I’ve never been to anything quite like this before,’ she whispered. ‘It’s amazing.’
Johnny followed her look and smiled. He gave a wry chuckle. ‘My mother likes to relive her days in showbusiness and loves to cut loose occasionally. She throws a good party.’
‘She certainly does.’ Callie turned to him. ‘Showbusiness?’
He frowned down at her. ‘I’ll fill you in sometime. Knowing Becky and Maria, all may become apparent later. I’m very glad you’re having a good time. But I need to ask you something.’
Callie braced herself but all he asked was, ‘Who’s Carrie?’
She giggled. ‘Get me another glass of champagne and I’ll tell you.’
Later, Callie lay in bed, sure she could still hear sounds from the party drifting down the hill on the breeze. She stretched sensually, enjoying the cool cotton on her overheated skin and the buzzy feeling in her head. She’d had a wonderful time.The food had been spectacular, no gastroenteritis-inducing half-cooked chicken thighs and burned sausages that were all too common at the barbecues she usually went to. At the Starling party the bao buns oozed lobster, the pig roast was caramelised and succulent pulled pork, and there were platters of hundreds of handmade chocolates for pudding. When Callie bit into her first, she met delicious vanilla ice cream and raspberry coulis.
The champagne flowed all evening, money apparently no object, and it all felt impossibly glamorous and more than slightly bonkers.
Johnny hadn’t left her side. They’d even danced, once the alcohol had hit and loosened the inhibitions, joined by Jessica, the older Starling children and, for a time the three aunts. Then Becky and Maria, embarrassingly, had plucked petals off the hydrangea bushes and thrown them, humming ‘Here Comes the Bride’ until chased off by an exasperated Jessica.
Johnny fended off the most intrusive attentions of his enormous and eccentric family but, just as they were leaving, she’d heard his eldest sister, an imposing figure and a younger version of the abrasive Aunt Sybil, hiss at him, ‘She’ll do. I heartily approve, bro.’
