Revelry. Lucy Lord

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СКАЧАТЬ I whisper.

      ‘She doesn’t like Andy talking to Pops, is all. Stupid bitch.’

      ‘But that’s absurd. He was only being nice about her father. And anyway, even though Pops is more gorgeous than that bitch could hope to be in a million years, she’s not exactly what you’d call a threat. She and Damian are devoted to each other.’

      ‘We know that, gorgeous, but she doesn’t.’ Mark and I clink glasses and down them in one in a moment of complete solidarity. I think I might love him, despite the Brazilian twins and the intern with the pierced nipple.

      After a bit, Alison turns to me.

      ‘Remind me what is it that you do again, Bella? Isn’t it something secretarial?’ Her pale blue eyes bore into me. Her colouring is really quite striking, I find myself thinking irrelevantly, the black hair and precisely plucked brows a vivid contrast to her pale skin and eyes.

      ‘Erm no … I’m an artist, but sometimes I have to do a bit of temping to help pay the bills.’

      ‘And you really think that’s any way for an adult to earn a living? Don’t you think it’s time you got a proper job and left the painting as a hobby? I mean, frankly, if you haven’t made any money out of it now, I can’t imagine you ever will. You’re what? Thirty-two?’

      I am stunned into silence. Not only because Alison thinks she has the right to speak to me with such vitriol, but also because she has pinpointed my Achilles heel with painful accuracy. She is beyond poisonous.

      ‘I don’t know how you can say that when you haven’t seen Bella’s work,’ says Damian loyally. The others are all laughing loudly at something Ben’s just said, so only he and Mark have heard this delightful exchange. ‘She’s extremely talented and I know her big break is just around the corner.’

      I flash him a grateful smile. Luckily our food chooses this moment to arrive and I am spared having to defend myself further to the witch. We eat our food, and drink all the wine that Mark ordered. Then we order brandies.

      ‘Andy,’ says Alison. ‘We really should be getting home. I’ve an early start tomorrow and I’m working on a very important case.’

      ‘Oh yes, your job’s so grown-up and important, isn’t it?’ I slur, completely pissed by now. ‘It must be a total nightmare for you having to hang out with plebs like us.’

      ‘Oh, I think most people around this table have pretty important jobs, Bella,’ says Alison nastily. ‘Don’t kid yourself.’

      ‘For God’s sake, Al.’ Andy looks and sounds deeply pissed off, even more than when she was going on about Poppy’s dad. ‘I’m sorry, Bella. Sorry Poppy, too, for earlier.’

      He pulls an apologetic face at us both, but I take no notice. It’s too much. After my shitty day in the office and gallons of booze, this sniping at both Poppy’s deepest sadness and my deepest insecurities makes my reaction just a smidgeon over the top.

      ‘You fucking bitch.’ I chuck the remains of Alison’s drink at her. ‘At least I’m not a dried-up old hag who can’t speak without hurting people or even smile without looking like a fucking gargoyle.’ I am mesmerized by the red wine dripping down her pristine white shirt. Then I come to my senses and burst into tears.

      Getting up with as much dignity as I can muster, I say, ‘Max, could you cover my share of the bill, please? I’ll sort it out with you tomorrow.’

      And I stagger upstairs, sobbing. I am halfway down Kensington Park Road when I hear footsteps behind me.

      ‘You left your jacket behind,’ says Ben, holding it out to me with a smile.

      ‘Oh, thanks so much, I’m such a twat. My keys and wallet are in the pocket.’ And I cry some more, as Ben strokes my hair, standing there in the street, going, ‘Sssh, sssh, it’s going to be OK, everything’s OK.’

      After a bit he laughs. ‘You certainly told Alison where to go.’

      ‘I’m already regretting it.’ I look up at him through teary eyes. ‘I seem to have sobered up in the last couple of minutes.’

      ‘Silly bitch deserved it, going on at you and Pops like that. Oh, I know I was nice about her stupid favours, but I was bored shitless by the conversation and it seemed the only way to bring it to a close.’ We both laugh.

      ‘Well, goodnight then,’ I say reluctantly.

      ‘Don’t be silly, I’m walking you home,’ says Ben, and my heart starts to beat alarmingly fast. Don’t be silly, Bella, he’s just being nice. Remember what a gentleman he is.

      He lights us each a fag. We turn right into Portobello Road and continue down through the market-stall debris, under the Westway and finally into my street. Ben is talking easily about Poppy’s promotion, laughing about Mark’s appalling behaviour, bitching about Alison. I am tongue-tied, but happy to listen, nod and laugh when required.

      ‘Well, here I am then,’ I say stupidly. ‘Thanks for looking after me.’

      ‘It was my pleasure, darling.’ Ben smiles that knee-trembling smile again. And very slowly, bends his head to kiss me. His lips are soft yet insistent. Involuntarily my own mouth opens just a fraction and he lingers a moment longer, running his tongue ever so lightly against my trembling bottom lip. Reluctantly, it seems, he pulls away, holding me in his electric blue gaze.

      ‘You looked very pretty tonight, you know.’ Then he turns on his heel and walks back down the street, turning once to blow me another kiss.

      Bugger me.

      Chapter 6

      Remember waking up on Christmas morning when you were a kid? That manic overexcitement that got you out of your own bed and into your parents’ at 5 a.m., only to be told to go back to sleep for a couple of hours? Well, that had nothing on the hyperactive frenzy I seem to have worked myself up into this morning. I am a Ritalin-dependent attention-seeking seven-year-old, without the compensating cuteness.

      For today we are going to Glastonbury. It is a glorious, glorious sunshiny day, I’ve been packed since 8 a.m. and Poppy and Damian are picking me up in half an hour. I always get excited about Glastonbury, even when it’s raining, but this year is different. This year I have been kissed by Ben, and the next four days stretch out in front of me, reverberating with romantic opportunity.

      I haven’t seen or spoken to Ben since he walked me home the other night, and neither have I told anyone about the kiss. I don’t know why. Normally I’d be straight on the phone to Poppy, but she is so much closer to Ben than I am because of Damian that I’ve never really confided in her about my feelings for him, though I imagine she has a pretty shrewd inkling. No fool, our Pops.

      It’s my wonderful little secret. Again and again I play over those few seconds. ‘It was my pleasure, darling.’ … Smile. Kiss. ‘You looked very pretty tonight, you know.’ He called me pretty! He kissed me! I realize I’m possibly reading too much into what was most likely just a drunken flirty moment, but I don’t care. I’ve been on Cloud Nine for the past week and am full of joyous optimism for what the next few days may bring.

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