I make my way back to the kitchen and find Victoria, still armed with the Dyson.
‘All done,’ she declares as she hoovers up a stray crumb on the marble worktop.
‘Well, let’s drink.’ I smirk and pick up two glasses of champagne, handing one to Victoria.
‘Here’s to you, Ava. Stylish in body and in mind,’ She giggles, raising her glass in a toast. We both swig and sigh. ‘Wow! This is good.’ She looks at the bottle.
‘Ca’Del Bosco, Cuvée Annamaria Clementi, 1993. It’s Italian, of course.’ I raise my brow and Victoria giggles again.
I hear chatter coming from the entrance hall, so I wander out of the kitchen, finding Tom gawping like a goldfish and Patrick smiling proudly.
‘Ava, this is some serious special, darling!’ Tom runs at me, throwing his arms around my body. He pulls back, looking me up and down. ‘Love the dress. Very tight.’
I wish I could say the same for Tom, who takes colour clash to extreme levels. I squint at his bright blue shirt and red tie combo.
‘Put the girl down, Tom. You’ll crease her,’ Patrick grumbles, gently shoving him aside and leaning down to peck me on the cheek. ‘I’m very proud of you, flower. You’ve done a marvelous job, and between me and you –’ He leans into my ear and whispers. ‘The developer has hinted they want you on board for the next project in Holland Park.’ He winks at me, his wrinkled face wrinkling further. ‘Now, where’s that champagne?’
‘This way,’ I lead them into the huge kitchen, hearing more cooing from Tom. The place really is that special.
‘Cheers!’ I chant, after handing them all a glass of champagne.
‘Cheers!’ They all raise their glasses.
I spend a few hours being introduced to high society and explaining my inspiration behind the design. Journalists from architecture and interior magazines swan around taking photographs and generally poking about. Much to my displeasure, they hustle me onto velvet chaise lounge for a shot. Patrick drags me from pillar to post, proclaiming his pride and insisting, to anyone that will listen, that I’ve single handedly put Rococo Union on the designers map. I blush profusely, repeatedly playing down his declarations.
I’m thankful when Kate shows up. I usher her into the kitchen, thrusting a glass of champagne in her hand and take another for myself.
‘Bit posh, eh?’ she muses, gazing around the plush kitchen. ‘It makes my place look like a cluttered mess.’
I laugh at the referral to her cute, homely town house that looks like Cath Kidston has vomited, sneezed and coughed all over it. ‘You mean impressive, I’m sure.’
‘Yes, that too. I couldn’t live here though.’ she says with no shame at all. I’m not offended. While I’m proud of the finished result, the sheer vastness of the place intimidates me.
‘Me either.’ I concur.
‘I saw Matt earlier.’ She downs her champagne, immediately scooping up another from a tray as a waiter passes.
‘Oh, I bet that was nice for you.’ I tease, imagining Kate hissing and spitting like a cat at poor Matt. It’s no less than he deserves.
‘No, it wasn’t. The part where he told me that you were going out for dinner with him was particularly unpleasant.’ She purses her lips at me. ‘Ava, what are you thinking? I’m here to threaten you.’
‘Oh, and there was me thinking you’d come to support your friend in her working triumph.’ I raise my eyebrows.
‘Pah! Your working life is not an area in which you need support. On the other hand, your personal life is very interesting lately.’ She jiggles her eyebrows up and down suggestively. I know what she’s getting at, and she’s not heard the half of it. Damn Matt as well. We’re not even together anymore and he still can’t resist winding her up.
I feign a hurt face. ‘You needn’t worry. I assure you, I’m not going back to that. I’m enjoying being man free, and that isn’t going to change anytime soon. Anyway, for the record, Matt’s winding you up.’ I sip my champagne.