Charles nodded. “Mother’s famous hot Twelfth Night punch. Would you like some?”
I took a quick look at Ernest and Mom, but they were deep in conversation with Bitsy Bee, so I let Charles pour me a mug of punch. Mom wouldn’t have minded, anyway. It tasted delicious—of orange, cinnamon, and a touch of cloves. You didn’t notice the alcohol at all. What you did notice were the looks being cast at Charles from the spinet, where Tipsy, the Boker, Cherry, and the newly divorced granddaughter were standing. The attention they were paying him didn’t escape Charles either. He smiled and waved to them, whereupon they all giggled like mad except for the granddaughter.
I coughed, and Charles turned back to me.
“How is Lottie?” he asked. “It’s a pity she didn’t come with you.”
A pity, was it? And how about the woman in the café that he’d practically been holding hands with? And Cherry’s granddaughter, who he’d been checking out only a second ago?
Nope, this time Charles wasn’t going to get away from me with an excuse about a fire alarm gone wrong. I took another sip of punch. “Lottie’s just fine,” I claimed, adding, “She’s gone to the cinema with a boyfriend.”
“Oh.” Charles plucked at his lower lip. “That … that’s good.”
“Yes, I think so too. Jonathan is such a nice guy.”
“What Jonathan?” asked Mia, popping up beside me like a jack-in-the-box.
The Jonathan I’ve just this minute invented, dummy. “Lottie’s Jonathan,” I said, watching in alarm as Grayson and Emily also came strolling over to us. And right behind them the Boker and the divorced granddaughter.
“Oh, that Jonathan—yes, he’s a great guy.” Mia snapped up two of the delicate little sandwiches at once. “And ever so romantic,” she went on with her mouth full. “He gave Lottie one of those funny Japanese beckoning cats for Christmas.”
I shot her a dark glance.
“One of those plastic cats?” asked Emily scornfully. “What’s so romantic about that?”
“It … it can be very romantic,” I murmured. Oh God, I needed more orange punch. In short order, and ignoring the fact that the Boker had joined us now, I snatched the ladle from Charles’s hand and helped myself.
“A plastic cat isn’t romantic, just cheap,” said Emily.
No, it wasn’t! It was a symbol. Not directly a symbol of love, but of happiness, a symbol with a wealth of tradition behind it going back to the famous maneki-neko cult. I’d read that on Wikipedia, and I wondered whether to tell Emily so. But know-it-all that she was, she might have read it on Wikipedia herself, and then she’d know that Hello Kitty had been inspired by the same cult too.
“What did Grayson give you, then, Emily?” asked Mia. Good question.
Emily pointed to her neck. “This lovely pendant.”
“A figure eight lying on its side—the sign for infinity.” The Boker smiled, much moved. “How very pretty.”
The sign for infinity? Had Grayson lost his marbles? I drained my mug of punch in a single draft and tried to dart scornful glances at him.
“Yes, my grandson has a great sense of style.” Mrs. Spencer patted Grayson’s cheek, and he turned slightly pink. “When it comes to his girlfriend too.” With a heavy sigh, she left Grayson alone and placed her hand on Charles’s shoulder. “Would you show Rebecca the garden while it’s still light, Charles dear? Rebecca is so interested in plants. She has a degree in biology. And she plays golf, don’t you, Rebecca dear? Maybe you two could play a round of golf together sometime! But off you go into the garden, now! And do smile, Rebecca, so that Charles can see your beautiful teeth.”
Rebecca managed to come up with a brave smile. I felt really sorry for her. Particularly as Charles didn’t seem a bit interested in her beautiful teeth.
“Mother, it hasn’t been properly light all day,” he said. “And a garden isn’t exactly an attraction in winter. What film have they gone to see?” He looked at me expectantly. “She doesn’t like action films. I hope this Jonathan knows that.”
Punch. Where was the ladle? It did smell delicious. While I was about it, I handed Rebecca a mug of punch too. She gave me a grateful smile.
“Who doesn’t like action films?” asked Mrs. Spencer Senior, adding with a touch of pique, “My garden is worth seeing all the year round.”
“He’s talking about Lottie,” Mia helpfully explained. “But I wouldn’t put it that way. Lottie likes action films just fine when she has someone to hold her hand in the exciting scenes.”
Charles swallowed convulsively. I was feeling sorry for him again. But it was his own fault. He’d had his chance. Now it was Jonathan’s turn. Only, unfortunately Jonathan didn’t exist.