By ten o’clock – a bit tipsy, as Nan would have said – I’ve managed to dash away any thoughts of being recognised. Matthew, chatting to his golf mates, grins at me, as Sylvia Jones from the cul-de-sac, pink cheeked from too much Prosecco, asks if I fancy a stab at Nordic walking. ‘Scandi stuff is what it’s all about! I do love IKEA, don’t you?’
I am relieved at how relaxed Frank seems, joking nearby with his mate George, whom he met recently at a local gig. They’ve chosen their playlist together carefully, no doubt frustrated by the limitations of old fogies who prefer Coldplay to Kurt Cobain. I look at him, and I think: It will be all right.
Before I can go and say hello to them, the caterer signals from the kitchen door.
‘A delivery just came,’ she tells me. ‘The man said sorry it’s so late – the traffic was bad. I think it’s more fireworks.’
‘Oh they’ll be Matthew’s.’ I peer over her shoulder. ‘Just leave them with the other boxes, by the back doors. Thanks.’
‘Of course. Actually, though, it’s in your name…’
I feel eyes on me and am distracted by Scarlett’s cold stare. She is talking to a red-haired, eye-patched pirate, an awful lot of eyeliner on the visible eye, regarding me with a look I can’t read.
Bravely I go over.
‘Hello,’ I toast them with my half-full glass. ‘Are you from Peter Pan?’
The pirate peers down at herself as if she is surprised to see her costume. ‘Yes, I suppose I am.’
‘I went for Wizard of Oz, myself, which isn’t strictly fairy tale, of course,’ I confide. ‘But I didn’t think anyone would mind.’
‘It’s not fairy tale at all, is it – Oz? But it is your party.’ The woman is very serious. ‘So you can do what you like.’
Her tone throws me a little. I wait for Scarlett to introduce us, and when I realise she isn’t going to, I stick out my hand. ‘I’m Jeanie—’ I was going to say Jeanie Randall, but of course I’m not any more, and saying Jeanie King, especially standing next to Scarlett, still seems presumptuous. So I say, ‘I hope you’re enjoying yourself…?’
Nothing.
‘Sorry,’ I flounder on. ‘I don’t know your name…’
‘Alison.’ Finally the woman takes my hand, gingerly, as if it alarms her. ‘Alison Day.’
‘Very nice to meet you, Alison. I’m enjoying meeting all Matt’s friends at the moment.’ Another pause. I feel myself start to sweat slightly – but I plunge on anyway. ‘How do you know—?’
‘Through Kaye. And how’s Luke?’ Alison pulls a sad face at Scarlett. ‘Is he better?’
‘Better?’ Scarlett swings back on her giant heels, eyes darting round the room. ‘Er, yeah. He’s fine – he’s over there.’
‘I bet your mum’s missing you, if you’re both here.’
I take an involuntary step back.
‘Not really.’ Scarlett shrugs. ‘She’s out with Yass tonight.’
‘Typical Kaye.’ Alison’s single eye fixes on me. ‘Always the life and soul, eh? She loves a party herself, doesn’t she?’
‘Yeah, s’pose.’ Scarlett twiddles her glass round by the stem. ‘But Dad didn’t really go in for this sort of thing then, did he?’
‘Oh I don’t know,’ Alison says. ‘Your mum certainly knows how to throw a party.’
Scarlett shoots her some kind of look, and she stops.
I don’t look down, but I know my chest will be flushing horribly.
‘Not this type of party though. She likes a bit more – glamour. I guess this must be your influence, then, er – Jenny,’ Alison says. Why can’t I read her tone? ‘The fancy dress?’
‘Jeanie,’ I mumble. ‘It’s Jeanie actually.’
‘Sorry.’ She smiles now. ‘I’m terrible with names. And it’s hard when I was so used to Matthew and Kaye. So sudden…’
Scarlett’s lower lip trembles again.
‘Oh, pet.’ Alison pats her. ‘Don’t get upset. How’s Daisy by the way? So awful. Is she any better now?’
Scarlett lets out a stifled sort of sob, and then Alison looks really worried.
I think I remember hearing about Daisy – a pet dog who died recently.
‘Scarlett,’ I begin rather hopelessly, and then suddenly Matthew is by my side, thank God. Scarlett wipes her nose on the back of her shiny blue sleeve, reminding me how young she really is.
‘Matthew,’ Alison says coolly, offering a cheek to be kissed.
‘Alison.’ Matthew obliges. ‘No Sean tonight then?’
‘He’s in Dubai. On business.’
‘Really?’ Matthew is equally cool. ‘Strange time of year to leave you alone.’
‘Yes, well. He’s very busy.’ It is Alison’s turn to go pink. ‘And not all men aren’t to be trusted.’
‘I wasn’t suggesting you shouldn’t trust him, Alison. Please send him my best. I have to say, it was really him I was hoping to see tonight.’ Matthew smiles. ‘To talk business, I mean, of course.’