‘But if you lose your job over it?’
‘I’m pinning my hopes on someone taking us over. There are plenty of print firms in the area.’
At Ryde, they went for a drink in the first pub they reached. Jo asked if she should order the birthday champagne, but Gemma said later would be better. She was still being mysterious about what was to come.
Some men at another table started trying to get attention by spinning beer mats and shouting. They weren’t bad-looking and they weren’t teenagers either, but Gemma showed no interest. When one of the mats landed on the table she tossed it back without a glance at them, provoking hoots of derision.
‘Let’s go,’ she said to Jo.
‘It’s a bit of fun, Gem.’
‘We’ve got bigger fish to fry.’
Outside, Jo remembered another saying: Better a small fish than an empty dish. This didn’t seem the time to mention it.
They went for a pizza.
‘I may as well tell you. We’re meeting Rick,’ Gemma said.
Great, Jo thought. What am I doing here, playing gooseberry?
‘Anyone else?’
‘No. You’re the two lucky campers I want to be with on my birthday.’
‘That’ll be nice,’ she lied. ‘Why didn’t Rick come on the hovercraft with us?’
‘Sally.’
She had to think. Sally was Rick’s Sunday lunch date, that older woman he insisted on seeing. ‘He’s still at it?’
‘Don’t know what you mean by “at it,”’ Gemma said. ‘She cooks for him, that’s all.’
If she really believed that, she’d believe anything.
‘It’s been going on for years. One of those arrangements you can’t suddenly end without hurting feelings.’
‘Have you met her?’
‘Wouldn’t want to. A right little Mary Poppins, by the sound of her.’
‘So what time are we meeting Rick?’
Gemma looked her watch. ‘About an hour. Make your margarita last. We don’t want the embarrassment of getting there first.’
A short taxi ride brought them to the secret venue, a spanking new nightclub on the seafront called Cliffs-and nothing to do with Sir Cliff, Gemma confided. Even so, the people who thronged the entrance didn’t look right. They weren’t straight out of school. They were grown-ups, more like first nighters in the West End than clubbers.
‘First we find my prize stallion,’ Gemma said, ‘and I see him. Over there by the palm tree.’
‘Can that be real?’
‘The palm or Rick? They both look plastic to me.’ Gemma shrieked at her own wit. She meant to enjoy her birthday.
Rick was in a new leather jacket and was carrying a gift bag that was obviously expensive chocs. He knew what the occasion was.
‘Before we go in,’ Gemma announced after they had all kissed, ‘this is my treat, guys. I brought you here and I know what the tab is.’
It was a good thing she warned them, because it cost a ton a head to get in. No wonder the teenagers weren’t there in force.
‘Who’s playing, Madonna?’ Rick said to Jo while Gemma was keying in her PIN number. ‘Did you see the ticket price?’
‘Don’t rock the boat,’ Jo muttered. ‘The birthday girl planned this.’
Inside, the smell of fresh paint competed with the perfumes worn by the clubbers. Complimentary cocktails were being handed out by gorgeous creatures wearing peacock feathers and little else. The heavy beat of retro rock music beckoned from across the carpeted foyer.
Jo noticed some of the new arrivals being taken aside to a sales area where hip clothes and shoes were on offer. It seemed there was a dress code for the men. Suits and chinos were out, designer drainpipes and T-shirts de rigeur. The girls were treated more indulgently. Gemma had been right about smart casual. The skinny jeans did nicely, and it was only right that the birthday girl had the party frock.
They collected drinks and moved inside, where a DJ was emoting about the acts in prospect, including a stand-up comic. Basically, the dance area was dark and huge, even the lighting upmarket compared to clubs Jo had seen before. A guitar band started playing and with a whoop of joy Gemma grabbed Rick and Jo and drew them into the fray. The tempo was just right for this early stage of the evening.
After two numbers Jo was ready to sit one out, except that seating was not a feature of Cliffs. Rick and Gemma joined her at the ledge where they had stowed their drinks. Bangers and mash and some kind of risotto were now being handed out by the peacocks, all included in the cover price. Rick took a large plateful, and the girls regretted the pizza they’d had.
‘I didn’t know this place existed,’ Jo said.
‘You like it?’
‘Love it. For a special night out it’s ideal. Wicked. Jongleurs will never seem the same.’
‘Slick marketing,’ Rick said in his man-about-town voice. ‘People of our age are going to go for this, and we have the money to splash out-well, Gemma does. But have you noticed the sprinkling of under-twenties, all bright- eyed and beautiful? I wouldn’t mind betting they’re on complimentary tickets.’
‘To glam up the ambience? You could be right.’
‘I bet they’re models on ten times our salary,’ Gemma said.
‘Or city traders earning millions,’ Jo said.
‘But we’re not envious, are we?’ Rick said. ‘We’re achievers, too. It’s just that our talents aren’t rewarded.’
‘What talents are those?’ Gemma said.
‘Show you later.’ He gave a sexy smirk and Jo felt like the hanger-on she’d not wanted to become. She was already thinking about strategies for leaving.
Out of Rick’s hearing range, Gemma said, ‘Promises, promises.’
Another band was playing. A heavier beat.
‘Let’s you and me strut our stuff and leave him to finish his nosh,’ Gemma said, taking Jo’s hand. ‘Sally’s Sunday lunch couldn’t have been much, judging by the amount he’s wolfing down.’
‘If you two want to be alone I can slip away any time,’ Jo offered.
‘Don’t you dare. We’re a threesome. End of story-unless you get lucky with one of these millionaires.’
Jo laughed. ‘Better exercise my hips, then.’ She appreciated Gemma’s friendship, and when the music stopped insisted on ordering the champagne she’d promised, in spite of Gemma warning her it would cost an arm and a leg in this place. She used her credit card and avoided looking at the tab.
They went back to Rick.
‘Still struggling with that risotto?’ Gemma said.
‘Second helping.’
‘You won’t be fit for anything. Look, Jo’s bought some fizz to help it go down. We’re on a bender now.’
Jo filled the three glasses and said, ‘Here’s to the birthday girl. I think we should all make a wish. I’m going to wish Gemma not only keeps her job, but gets promoted to manager.’
Rick said, ‘I’ll drink to that.’
‘No you won’t,’ Gemma said. ‘Not before you’ve told us your wish.’
‘All right.’ He squeezed his eyes for inspiration. ‘I wish to bring you guys here on my next birthday.’
‘When’s that?’ Jo said.
‘August.’
‘Nearly a year away.’
‘I need time to save up. What’s your wish, Gem?’
