‘I promise you,’ Dulcie declared dramatically, ‘this is going to be a night to remember. And whatever happens, don’t get drunk and pass out before ten o’clock.’ Her green eyes sparkled.
‘There are going to be a couple of late arrivals. Call it a special guest appearance.’
‘Who?’
The temptation to confide in Pru was overwhelming. Manfully, Dulcie held back. Instead she held a finger to her lips.
‘Ssh, not another word. Top secret.’ She winked at Pru. ‘After all, if you’re having a party, why settle for one surprise when you can have two?’
Eddie Hammond wasn’t a great one for examining his reflection but in the aerobics studio, which was mirrored from floor to ceiling on three sides, he didn’t have a lot of choice. While he waited to speak to Diana, Brunton’s terrifyingly fit aerobics instructor, he studied himself without much enthusiasm in the nearest of the mirrored walls.
Terrifyingly unfit was the phrase that sprang to mind.
Or maybe overweight, overstressed and over forty.
Eddie tried sucking in his stomach but all it did was make him feel dizzy, since you couldn’t suck in your stomach and breathe at the same time.
He gave up, combed his fingers through his greying hair instead, briefly closed his baggy eyes and mopped his perspiring forehead with a handkerchief. No wonder he looked harassed, he thought gloomily. Who wouldn’t be, faced with a day like this, his first crisis since moving down to Bath and taking over the running of Brunton Manor two months earlier? His staff were still dropping like flies, the health inspector was on his tail, the publicity could be disastrous for the club .. .
Eddie’s smile was rueful. It was no good, he could go on making excuses until he was blue in the face but he couldn’t get away from the fact that stress or no stress, this was the way he looked.
This was him. He was unfit, overweight and over forty. Okay, forty-five.
Let’s face it, he was no Jean-Claude van Damme.
A flash of lime green and orange made Eddie jump. Dulcie, whose reflection he had glimpsed in one of the other mirrors, stopped and stuck her head around the glass door.
‘Everything okay?’ Eddie prayed she hadn’t tracked him down in order to report some new catastrophe.
But Dulcie, thank God, was grinning.
‘No problems. All under control,’ she told Eddie, entertained by the sight of him studying his own reflection as intently as any teenager. ‘The rest of the food’s being set out and I’m off home for a bath. Didn’t know you’d signed up,’ Dulcie added.
‘Signed up?’ Eddie frowned. ‘For what?’
‘One of Diana’s aerobics classes.’ She winked. ‘I can’t wait to see you in a leotard.’
Amused, Eddie said, ‘There’s about as much chance of that as of seeing you in one.’
As he spoke, Diana and the next scheduled class spilled out of the changing room, heading down the corridor towards the studio. Dulcie, who lived in terror of waking up and finding out she’d got drunk the night before and signed up for one of Diana’s classes, said, ‘Help, Cruella’s coming. I’ll see you later.’ She waggled her fingers at Eddie. ‘And cheer up, okay? Everything’s fine. It’s going to be a night to remember.’
Chapter 7
The great advantage of surprise parties, Pru discovered with some relief, was the way they got everyone there on time. Instead of having to endure that awkward first couple of hours of guests trickling in, all leaving it as late as possible because nobody wanted to be the first, everyone had piled in through the doors dead on five to eight.
Everyone except Phil.
Ducking out to reception at five past, Pru tried ringing home again. No reply. Ditto his mobile.
But she didn’t have time to start worrying. Dulcie and Patrick had arrived.
‘What’s going on?’ Patrick was looking suitably confused. ‘I thought the table at Langharn’s was booked for eight fifteen ... Hello, Pru, what are you doing here? Did Dulcie tell you it was my birthday? Come and give me a big kiss.’
‘Right, that’s enough,’ barked Dulcie moments later. She seized his arm. ‘No time for snogging.
As soon as I’ve booked a sunbed for tomorrow, we’re off. Pru, where’s Anna?’
Pru pointed obediently in the direction of the banqueting hall.
‘Through there.’
‘Do I deserve you?’ Patrick murmured, wrapping his arms around his wife as they danced to something slow and slushy. Dulcie was looking amazing in a skin-tight little black dress and the kind of seriously high heels he liked. Her black hair was slicked back Valentino style. The diamond studs he had given her for Christmas glittered in her ears. Dulcie had the figure, the looks and the legs; what’s more, she knew how to flaunt them.
And she had gone to the trouble of organising a surprise party for him, even to the extent of doing all the food. Well, with a little help from Pru.
Patrick was touched.
Dulcie stuck her tongue out at him.
‘Deserve me? Of course you don’t.’ His dark-brown eyes narrowed with amusement.
‘I do love you.’
Patrick didn’t say it often, he wasn’t that kind of man. But Dulcie knew he did.
It was just a shame he loved work more.
‘I should bloody well think so.’ Reaching up, she flicked his ear lobe with her tongue. It had been so long, she’d quite forgotten how nice Patrick was to dance with. If she wasn’t so excited about James and Bibi’s imminent arrival she might have put the pleasurable churning sensation in her stomach down to the effect of her husband’s
