Page 95

THEO

The string quartet is already warming up when I walk downstairs later that evening. I’m fastening my cufflinks as I come face to face with Kate.

“Oh hello stranger,” she says. “Everybody’s wondering where you are.”

She’s wearing a long red dress, low at the neck, her hair pinned up in some kind of extravagant arrangement. She reaches out to pick a fleck of dust from the shoulder of my dinner jacket. “You look nice.”

I step back and her hand drops from me. “Thank you. So do you.”

She pauses for a moment. Then when I say nothing, she looks over at the stairs and asks, “Where’s Georgia?”

“Still getting ready. I thought I’d leave her to it.” Especially since she’s running late because of me. And quite frankly, I’m not at all sorry about that. I could barely bring myself to stop touching her long enough to get dressed. “Where’s Alex?”

“Having a drink with your parents in the library. I thought I’d leave them to it.” She smiles. “I need to call my own parents.”

“Are they coming tonight?” I ask her. Her mother and mine were always thick as thieves.

“Yes, but a bit later. They have another party first.” She laughs. “It’s that time of the year.” She tips her head to the side, her hazel eyes on me. “Alex told me about the article.”

I sigh. “That’s family business.”

She shrugs. “I’m pretty much family, Theo. If there’s anything I can do to help, let me know.”

“Theo, there you are,” my mother calls out, walking into the hallway. “Come and join us for a drink. Everybody will arrive soon.” She looks over at the string quartet. “Are you ready?”

“Yes, madam,” the violinist tells her.

“Then you can start to play.” She slides her arm through mine. “Come on, darling. Your father is already two glasses in.”

If not more. “Did he talk to you?” I ask her, as we head for the library.

“What about?” she asks.

“About the newspaper article that might run tomorrow,” I say.

“Oh that.” She pats my arm. “He mentioned something. Said it wasn’t anything to worry about.”

For god’s sake. I have to bite my tongue as we walk into the library. My father and Alex are laughing about something, my father’s red wine sloshing in his glass.

“There you are,” he booms when he sees me. “Always the last one.” He looks at my mother. “Remember when he was ten days late for his own birth? We should have known it was a portent.”

My mother smiles indulgently at me. “You were worth the wait, darling. You always are.”

“Where’s Georgina…” My father trails off, realizing his mistake. He clears his throat “Where’s your lovely American?”

“Finishing getting ready. She’ll be here in a moment.”

“The only people later than Theo are Americans.” He laughs and takes a sip of his wine. “Come on, you need to catch up.”

I grit my teeth and let him pour me a glass of red. In the distance the quartet starts up, a classical version of ‘Last Christmas’ filling the air. Barbara comes in and whispers something to my mother, who nods.

“Yes, get them to start pouring the champagne,” she tells her. “And we’ll start with the canapes at eight.” She touches my father’s hand. “Please slow down, Richard. I don’t want you falling over drunk in front of our guests.”

I look over at Alex. He shrugs like it isn’t his problem.

“God, you’re such a party pooper,” my father says. Then he looks over my shoulder and lets out a whistle. “Crikey. You scrub up well.”

I turn to see Georgia standing in the doorway. The dark green silk dress clings to her as perfectly as I remember, catching the light as she steps into the room.