Twenties Girl (16 page)

If I refuse him, Sadie will wreak her revenge on me, I know it. This is what she wanted; this is why we’re all here. So she can dance with Ed.

“OK.”

Hardly able to believe what I’m doing, I put down my glass and stand up. I follow Ed to a tiny patch of spare floor next to the bar stools, and he turns to face me. For a moment we both just stare at each other, paralyzed by the enormity of the situation.

This is a one hundred percent nondancing scenario. We’re not on a dance floor. This isn’t a club, it’s a bar. No one else is dancing. The jazz band is still playing its scratchy music through the speakers, and some bloke is singing about his fancy shoes. There’s no beat, there’s no nothing. There’s no way we can dance.

“Dance!” Sadie is flitting between us like quicksilver, a whirlwind of impatience. “Dance together!
Dance!”

With a look of desperation in his eyes, Ed starts moving awkwardly from side to side, trying as best he can to follow the music. He looks so miserable, I start copying him, just to make him feel better. I’ve never seen less convincing dancing in my life.

Out of the corner of my eye I can see everyone turning to watch us. My dress is swishing backward and forward, and my necklaces are jangling. Ed’s eyes are focused far ahead, as though he’s having an out-of-body experience.

“Excuse me.” A member of the bar staff, carrying a plate of dim sum, ducks between us.

Not only are we not on a dance floor, we’re in the way of everyone. This is the most excruciating experience of my life.

“Dance properly!” I turn my head to see Sadie regarding me in horror. “That’s not dancing!”

What does she expect us to do, the waltz?

“You look as though you’re trudging through mud! This is how to dance.”

She starts some twenties Charleston-type dance, all flying legs and elbows and knees. Her face is beatific, and I can hear her humming along to the music. At least
someone’s
having fun.

As I watch, she shimmies right up to Ed and places a slender hand on each of his shoulders. Now she’s running a hand adoringly down his cheek.

“Isn’t he blissful?” She runs both her hands down his chest, circling his waist and skimming down his back.

“Can you feel him?” I murmur incredulously, and Sadie flinches, as though I’ve caught her out.

“That’s … not the point,” she says defensively. “And it’s none of your business.”

OK, so she can’t. Well, whatever rocks her boat, I suppose. But do I have to watch?

“Sadie!” I hiss as her hands travel even further down his body. “Get a room!”

“I’m sorry, what did you say?” With an obvious effort, Ed focuses on me. He’s still dancing from side to side, totally oblivious to the fact that he has a twenty-three-year-old flapper running her hands voraciously all over his body.

“I said … let’s stop.” I avert my eyes from Sadie, who’s trying to nibble his ear.

“No!” protests Sadie furiously. “More!”

“Great idea,” says Ed at once, and starts back toward our chairs.

“Ed? Ed Harrison?” A blond woman interrupts his path. She’s wearing beige trousers and a white shirt and an expression of incredulous glee. At the table behind her, I can see several other well-groomed business types watching avidly. “I thought that was you! Were you just … dancing?”

As Ed surveys all the faces at the table, it’s obvious his nightmare has just got about fifty times worse. I almost feel sorry for him.

“That’s … that’s right,” he says at last, as though he can’t quite believe it himself. “We were dancing.” He seems to come to. “Lara, do you know Genevieve Bailey from DFT? Genevieve, Lara. Hello, Bill, Mike, Sarah …” He’s nodding at all the people sitting round the table.

“Your dress is adorable.” Genevieve flicks a condescending glance over my outfit. “Going for the twenties look, obviously.”

“It’s original.” I nod.

“I have no doubt!”

I smile as best I can, but she’s touched a nerve. I don’t
want
to be dressed up like something out of a
Daily Mail
vintage-dolls
collection series. Especially not in front of what’s clearly a collection of high-profile businesspeople.

“I’ll just touch up my makeup.” I force another smile. “I’ll be back in a minute.”

In the ladies’ room, I get out a tissue, wet it, and frantically scrub at my face. But nothing seems to be coming off.

“What are you doing?” Sadie appears behind me. “You’ll ruin your face!”

“Just trying to tone down the color,” I say between jerky rubs.

“Oh, that rouge won’t come off,” says Sadie airily. “It’s indelible. Lasts for days. The lipstick too.”

Indelible?

“Where did you learn to dance?” Sadie inserts herself between me and the mirror.

“I didn’t. You don’t learn to dance. You just pick it up.”

“Well, it shows. You’re terrible.”

“Well, you’re totally over the top,” I retort, stung. “You looked like you wanted to jump his bones right there!”

“‘Jump his bones.’” Sadie frowns. “What do you mean?”

“It means … You know.” I stop awkwardly. I’m not sure bone-jumping is something I want to be discussing with my great-aunt.

“What?” Sadie says impatiently. “What does it mean?”

“You do it with someone else.” I choose my words carefully. “It’s like a pajama party. Except you take off your pajamas.”

“Oh, that.” Her face clicks with recognition. “You call it ‘jumping his bones’?”

“Sometimes.” I shrug.

“What an odd phrase. We used to call it sex.”

“Oh,” I say, discomfited. “Well. We do too—”

“Or barney-mugging,” she adds.

Barney-mugging?
And she has the nerve to call
jump his bones
an odd phrase?

“Well, whatever you call it.” I take off one of my shoes and
rub my sore toes. “You looked like you wanted to do it with him right there in the bar.”

Sadie smirks and adjusts her headband, looking in the mirror. “You must admit he’s handsome.”

“On the outside, maybe,” I say grudgingly. “But he doesn’t have any personality.”

“Yes, he does!” says Sadie, looking offended.

How would she know? It was me who had to make all the bloody conversation with him!

“No, he doesn’t! He’s lived in London for months, but he hasn’t bothered to see anything!” I wince as I put my shoe back on. “What kind of narrow-minded person does that? What kind of person isn’t interested in one of the greatest cities in the world?” My voice is rising with indignation. “He doesn’t deserve to live here.”

As a Londoner, I’m taking this quite personally. I look up to see what Sadie thinks, but her eyes are closed and she’s humming. She’s not even bloody listening to me.

“Do you think he’d like me?” She opens her eyes. “If he could see me. If he could dance with me.”

Her face is so hopeful and glowing, all my outrage dies away. I’m being stupid. What does it matter what this guy is like? He’s got nothing to do with me. This is Sadie’s evening.

“Yes,” I say as convincingly as I can. “I think he’d love you.”

“I think so too.” She looks satisfied. “Your headdress is crooked, did you realize?”

I tug at it and survey my reflection grumpily.

“I look so
ridiculous.”

“You look divine. You’re the prettiest girl in the place. Apart from me,” she adds airily.

“Do you know how stupid I feel?” I rub at my cheeks again. “No, of course not. All you care about is your date.”

“I’ll tell you something,” says Sadie, watching me critically in the mirror. “You’ve got a film star’s mouth. In my day, all the
girls
died
to have a mouth like that. You could have been in the pictures.”

“Yeah, right.” I roll my eyes.

“Look
at yourself, you ninny. You look like a film heroine!”

Reluctantly, I face the mirror again, trying to imagine myself in flickery black and white, tied to a railway line while a piano bashes out some menacing tune. Actually … she’s right. I do quite look the part.

“Oh, sir, please spare me!” I adopt a pose in front of the mirror, batting my eyelashes.

“Exactly! You’d have been a darling of the silver screen.” Sadie meets my eyes, and I can’t help grinning back. This has been the weirdest, stupidest date of my life, but somehow her mood is infectious.

As we head back out to the bar, I see that Ed is still chatting to Genevieve. She’s leaning elegantly against a chair in a “casual” pose, which I instantly realize is designed to show off her tall, slim figure to Ed. I also instantly realize that he hasn’t even noticed, which slightly endears him to me.

Sadie’s noticed, though. She keeps crossly trying to elbow Genevieve out of the way, and yelling
“Move!”
in her ear—but Genevieve’s ignoring her completely. She must be made of strong stuff.

“Lara!” Genevieve greets me with a fake smile. “I’m so sorry. I don’t want to disrupt your evening
á deux
with Ed!”

“No worries.” I give her an equally fake smile.

“Have you known each other long?” She gestures between Ed and me with an elegant, silk-cuffed wrist.

“Not long, no.”

“So how did you two meet?”

I can’t help a surreptitious glance at Ed. He looks so uneasy at the question that I want to giggle.

“It was in the office, wasn’t it?” I say, to help him out.

“In the office. Yes.” Ed nods in relief.

“Well!” Genevieve laughs—the kind of bright, trilling laugh you give when you’re really quite annoyed about something. “Ed, you are secretive! I had no idea you had a girlfriend!”

For a split second, Ed and I meet eyes. I can see he’s about as keen on that idea as I am.

“She’s not my girlfriend,” he says at once. “I mean, that’s not—”

“I’m not his girlfriend,” I chime in hastily. “We’re just … it’s kind of a one-off—”

“We’re just having a drink,” Ed supplies.

“We’ll probably never see each other again.”

“Probably not,” Ed affirms. “Definitely not.”

We’re both nodding in total agreement. In fact, I think we’ve bonded for the first time.

“I… see.” Genevieve looks totally confused.

“Let me get you another drink, Lara.” Ed gives me the warmest smile he has all evening.

“No, I’ll get them!” I beam back at him. There’s nothing like knowing you only have to spend ten more minutes with someone to make you feel suddenly generous toward them.

“What do you mean?” A voice is shrieking behind me, and as I turn I see Sadie heading toward me. Her glow has disappeared; she’s a whirl of fury. “It’s not a one-off! You made a promise!”

She’s got a nerve. How about “Thank you for dressing up and looking like a fool, Lara”?

“I kept my promise!” I hiss out of the side of my mouth as I approach the bar. “I’ve done my side of the deal.”

“No, you haven’t!” She glares at me in outrage. “You haven’t even danced properly with him! You’ve just shuffled around dismally.”

“Too bad.” I get out my phone and pretend to be speaking into that. “You said you wanted a date, I’ve given you one. The end. A glass of champagne and a G&T please,” I add to the barman, and reach into my bag for some money. Sadie’s silent, which probably means she’s gearing up for a banshee moment….
But as I look up, she’s gone. I swivel around and see her back beside Ed.

She’s yelling in his ear. Oh God. What’s she doing?

I pay for the drinks as quickly as I can and hurry back across the bar. Ed is staring into the middle distance, that glazed, transfixed look on his face again. Genevieve is in the middle of an anecdote about Antigua and doesn’t even seem to have noticed Ed’s faraway expression. Or maybe she thinks he’s transfixed by admiration for her.

“And then I saw my bikini top!” She trills with laughter. “In the sea! I never lived that one down.”

“Here you are, Ed,” I say, and hand him his G&T.

“Oh. Thanks.” He seems to come to.

“Do it now!”
Sadie suddenly swoops forward and shrieks in his ear.
“Ask her NOW!”

Ask me? Ask me what? This had better not be about another date, because it’s not happening, no way, whatever Sadie wants—

“Lara.” Ed focuses on me with what looks like some difficulty, his forehead furrowed more deeply than ever. “Would you like to be my guest at the
Business People
dinner?”

I do not
believe
it.

In shock, I swivel my eyes up to Sadie’s—and she’s looking at me with an expression of triumph, her arms folded across her chest.

“Don’t say yes on my account,” she says carelessly. “It’s up to you. Entirely.”

Ooh. She’s
good
. She’s a lot smarter than I thought. I didn’t even realize she was paying attention to the conversation.

This is impossible. There’s no way I can turn down an invitation to the
Business People
dinner. It’s such a huge event. It’ll be stuffed full of important business types. … I’ll be able to network … make contacts. … It’s a massive opportunity. I can’t say no. I just can’t.

Damn
her.

“Yes,” I say at last, stiffly. “Thank you, Ed, that’s very kind of you. I’d love to come.”

“Good. That’s great. I’ll send you the details.”

We both sound as though we’re reading lines from cards. Genevieve is looking back and forth between our faces, bewildered.

“So … you
are
a couple,” she says.

“No!” we reply in unison.

“No way,” I add for emphasis. “Not at all. I mean … never. Not in a million years.” I take a sip and glance over at Ed. Is it my imagination, or does he look just the tiniest bit offended?

I last about another twenty minutes, listening to Genevieve show off about every single holiday she’s ever been on, practically. Then Ed glances at me, and my empty glass, and says, “Don’t let me keep you.”

Don’t let me keep you
. It’s a good thing I’m not into this guy. If that isn’t code for
I can’t stand a moment more in your company
, I don’t know what is.

“I’m sure you have dinner plans,” he adds politely.

“Yes!” I say brightly. “I do, as it happens. Absolutely. Dinner plans.” I do a pantomime sweep of my watch in front of my eyes. “Goodness, is that the time? I must run. My dinner companions will be waiting.” I resist the temptation to add, “At Lyle Place, with champagne.”