Special Treatment. PENNY JORDAN

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      This was the closest thing she had ever known to real family life, and yet even here she remained on the fringe … outside the magic, charmed circle, in some way.

      Gradually, the lunch party broke up. Mamie had to talk to the caterers, Neil had some phone calls to make. The children were getting fractious and were borne away by their respective mothers. Paul and Simon were deep in some private conversation. Susannah got up and started to collect the empty plates. She might as well see if she could give Ethel a hand in the kitchen.

      Susannah was upstairs in her room, getting ready, when she heard the first of the guests arrive. Late in the afternoon she had gone for a walk, and had been away longer than she had planned. Walking eased her thoughts, it also brought back painful memories. Why was it possible to miss a man she knew she was better off without? She did miss David, even though she knew she had made the right decision.

      Sighing faintly, she towelled the last of the moisture from her shower off her skin. Her hired dress was still in its box, and belatedly she remembered that she ought to have got it out and pressed it. She shrugged fatalistically. It was too late now and, besides, Mamie was the star of the evening. No one was likely to notice a few creases in her rather drab dress.

      She opened the box, frowning slightly as she caught the shimmer of blue through the tissue paper. Blue … The dress she had chosen was grey, surely?

      Uncertainly she lifted it out of the paper, her mouth falling open in shock. This wasn’t the dress she had hired! Dry-mouthed with shock, she stared at it. This was nothing like the dress she had hired. This … Never in a thousand lifetimes would she ever have chosen anything as exotic, as downright … provocative as this dress, with its tightly moulded bodice and its flaring thirties-style fishtail flouncing skirt.

      The ruched bodice glittered and sparkled beneath her fingers. She couldn’t wear it! But she had no option. Already she was late.

      Cursing beneath her breath, she looked at the underwear she had already laid out. There was no way she was going to be able to wear a bra underneath it.

      Gritting her teeth, she pulled it on, not daring to look at her reflection for several seconds.

      When she did, she was amazed by how red the intense blue made her hair appear, and how white her skin. Aunt Emily would most definitely not approve; the dress was everything she deplored. It wasn’t so much that it was actually vulgar—indeed, the neckline was relatively modest—but it was the way the ruched fabric hugged every line of her torso right down to her knees before flaring out in that provocative fishtail froth of net and silk.

      She couldn’t wear it. She was just about to take it off when Mamie walked into her room.

      The older woman looked elegant and soignée in a dress of soft coral silk. Her eyebrows lifted when she saw Susannah.

      ‘Oh my, that really is something!’

      ‘They gave me the wrong dress,’ Susannah told her weakly. ‘This is nothing like what I was intending to wear.’

      To her shock, Mamie chuckled.

      ‘Oh, my dear, if you could just see your face! It suits you, you know. The whole effect is very … very challenging: provocative and yet coolly remote. It will drive the men wild.’

      ‘I don’t want to drive them wild,’ Susannah told her crossly. ‘Mamie, I can’t wear this …’

      ‘Unless you’ve brought something else with you, you’re going to have to,’ Mamie told her crisply, adding caustically, ‘Susannah, for heaven’s sake! You aren’t your Aunt Emily, you know. There is nothing wrong with the dress, and it suits you to perfection. You’re a woman, not a child; just for once in your life be one.’

      She was gone before Susannah could retaliate. Was that how people saw her? she wondered miserably. Mamie had made her feel like some kind of freak, like … Oh, for goodness’ sake, what was she getting so worked up about? It was only a dress. What did it matter if it wasn’t the one she had chosen?

      Her head lifted, her chin tilting proudly. So Mamie thought she didn’t know how to be a woman, did she?

      Head held high, she made her way downstairs.

      Neil and Mamie weren’t having a formal receiving line, so Susannah was free to mingle with the guests who had already arrived: old friends of Mamie and Neil’s from London in the main, people she already knew and felt quite at ease with.

      It wasn’t until she saw Simon that she realised how dramatically different the dress made her look. His eyebrows lifted, his mouth pursed in a silent whistle.

      ‘Wow! What happened to you, Red?’ he demanded teasingly.

      ‘Nothing,’ she told him flatly, both irritated and at the same time faintly embarrassed by his openly male inspection of her. ‘And don’t look at me like that.’

      ‘No, don’t,’ agreed his wife, Emma, joining them and giving Susannah a friendly smile. ‘Love your outfit. Lucky you to be able to wear it.’ She grimaced ruefully and patted her hips. ‘I do envy you being so slim.’

      ‘Nonsense, woman, you’re perfect as you are,’ Simon told her firmly. ‘Are you sure you’re up to the consequences of wearing an outfit like that?’ he teased Susannah over his shoulder as he took his wife’s arm. ‘If not …’

      ‘Stop tormenting her, Simon,’ Emma commanded him, firmly leading him away.

      But it was too late, the damage was done; Susannah immediately felt awkwardly conspicuous, her small stock of courage dwindling away. The best thing she could do would be to find herself a dark corner and to hide away in it until she could safely escape to her room. Aunt Emily had been right, she thought grimly, men did judge a woman on how she dressed. She had never really thought about it before, but now she could see what her aunt meant.

      Normally, she didn’t waste much time or concern over her clothes; her life was far too busy for that. Comfortable, loose-fitting skirts or well worn jeans comprised her normal working wear. Busy reporters didn’t have time to worry about looking glamorous.

      Glamorous? She made a face at herself in the rococo mirror hanging in the hall. What an out-of-date word! But then, she was out of date, in some respects, at least. She still felt bruised and sore from her last meeting with David. He had accused her then of leading him on, of being a ‘tease’, although his language had been stronger and very offensive. She had seen him in a new light then—not just as a weak man, but as an unkind one as well. She told herself that she had had a lucky escape, but that didn’t make the pain inside go away.

      The interior designers had done their work well, she admitted as she slipped into Neil’s study in order to avoid the chattering group of people making their way down the hall.

      When she had first seen the house, before Neil and Mamie had moved in, this room had been very neglected, the panelling on the walls in a very poor state of repair. Now it had been cleaned and treated, the stone fireplace restored and Neil’s antique partner’s desk installed, the designer touches showing only in the clever co-ordination of fabrics and ornaments. She rather liked the richness of the paisley fabric chosen for the curtains, she admitted. It went well with the heaviness of the dark red leather chesterfield. This would be a comfortable retreat for Neil, СКАЧАТЬ