Nadia Knows Best (8 page)

Nadia scooped up the just-delivered post on her way into the kitchen the next morning. Clare was already up, which was either an outright miracle or meant that she'd only just come home after last night. Miriam was making her usual blisteringly strong coffee and James was buttering toast.

Dealing the letters out like a poker hand, Nadia recited, “Bill, bill, junk mail, bill.”

“Cuthbert, Dibble, and Grubb,” said James.

Everyone in the kitchen turned and stared at him.

“Joke,” said James. “It was a children's thing on TV.”

“Ah,” Clare mimicked misty-eyed reminiscence, “the good old days of black and white.”

“It was a famous program.” James looked defensive.

“More junk mail.” Nadia tossed a glossy card over to Clare. “You've won half a million pounds.”

“Lovely.” Clare turned it over and pulled a face. “Oh, shame. It says here that they
were
going to give me half a million pounds, but then they asked my sister and she persuaded them to give it to someone else instead.”

Nadia ignored her. “Something for you, Gran, a fat one. Here, catch.”

Miriam caught it, her heart in her mouth. But it was OK, nothing to worry about, just one of Emily Payne's irritating round-robin letters, run off on her computer. At six-month intervals Emily liked to send boastful my-children-are-better-than-your-children updates to two hundred of her very closest friends. Last Christmas Miriam had been tempted to write back telling her that James had just had a sex change and from now on was to be known as Janice.

“Dad, two more for you. Boring old car brochure and ooh, this looks more exciting.” Nadia waggled the heavy cream envelope enticingly under his nose. “Mm, heavy paper and addressed with real ink, talk about posh.”

James knew at once what it was. Several other people at work had received theirs in the post yesterday. Taking a cup of coffee from Miriam, he slid the invitation under the saucer and concentrated on opening and studying the glossy brochure from BMW instead.

“Come on, Dad, what's in the other envelope?” Behind him, Clare draped her arms round his shoulders.

“I'll open it later.”

“Tell you what, why don't I open it now?” With a grin, she whisked the envelope out from beneath the saucer and danced away from the table.

“That's addressed to me. It's private.” James attempted to exert parental control.

“Oh, don't be such an old fuddy-duddy, anyone can see it's an invite.” Ripping open the envelope, Clare studied the embossed card inside. She wrinkled her nose in disgust. “I thought it was going to be something interesting. A dinner party at Cedric and Mary-Jane's—God, nightmare. I'd rather eat dog food.”

James entirely agreed. Cedric Elson was his boss, the founder and head of Elson and Co. Chartered Accountants. Mary-Jane was his liposuctioned wife. And their dinner parties were the bane of James's life.

“It says James and partner,” Clare pointed out.

Cedric and Mary-Jane's invitations always said that.

“I told them I don't have a partner.” James sighed. “Mary-Jane said I should jolly well make the effort and find one.”

“She may have a point.” Miriam wound her dark hair into a knot and secured it with her crossword Biro. “After all, they've been inviting you to these parties for years and you've never taken anyone yet.”

“I don't know anyone to invite.”

Out in the hall, Tilly was on her knees stuffing trainers and a PE skirt into her already bulging backpack. Pausing for a second, she heard Clare say, “Get someone from an agency. One of those escort girls, a really stunning one. That'll make everyone sit up and take notice.”

“Especially if she starts handing out her business card,” Tilly heard Nadia retort.

“I'm not hiring someone from an agency.” James sounded resigned. “I'm not even going to the dinner party. I'll phone at the last minute and tell them I have the flu.”

“You did that last year,” said Miriam. “This time you have to go. You can take Eliza.”

“Not Eliza.” James's groan was audible even out in the hall. It wasn't the first time he'd been threatened with Edward's secretary.

“She's always asking after you,” Miriam declared. “You know she likes you. Oh, James, don't pull that face, you don't have to marry the woman. It's only a dinner party.”

“I'm going to be late for work.” Tilly heard a chair being scraped back.

“You have to take someone,” Miriam persisted.

Out in the hallway James picked up his briefcase and car keys before dropping a kiss on Tilly's bent head.

“Bye, pigeon. See you later.”

Having finally succeeded in fastening the zip on her backpack, Tilly said, “You're wearing odd socks.”

James glanced down at his socks; one navy, one black.

“Don't tell your grandmother.” He gave Tilly a conspiratorial wink and pulled open the front door. “Bye.”

***

“Hi, how
are
you?” Annie greeted Tilly with a warm smile when Tilly came into the shop at twenty past five.

“Fine. Well, muddy.” Tilly indicated the mud splashes all over her legs as a result of racing around a waterlogged sportsfield. “Is your knee better?”

“Oh, it's fine.” The bruise on her bottom was really colorful, but Annie didn't mention this. “Chewing gum?”

Tilly nodded and pulled her money out of one of the pockets in her backpack. She counted out the coins carefully, passed them over to Annie, and took a deep breath.

“Look, I hope this isn't rude, but do you have another half?”

Annie frowned. Was this about chewing gum? Money? Lager?

“Another half of what?”

“Sorry.” Flushing slightly, Tilly shook her head. “I meant
an
other half. You know, like a partner, husband, boyfriend… I never know what to call them.”

“Oh.” Annie broke into another smile. “Well, no, not really.”

“What does not really mean?”

“Um, it means… no.” Taken aback by the unexpected interrogation, Annie said, “Why?”

“No reason. Just wondered.” Cheerfully, Tilly unwrapped the packet of Wrigley's Extra. “So, in theory, if a man asked you to go along with him to his boss's dinner party next Saturday night, there wouldn't be anything to stop you?”

Annie's heart rate increased, like an ancient car suddenly being urged to break the speed limit.

“Well, that would depend on the man and what he was like.”

“But if he was really nice, you'd say yes?” Tilly's eyes were bright.

“Ah… well, I suppose so, in theory.”

“That's great. Brilliant.” Beaming, Tilly offered her chewing gum.

Behind her, the door swung open and James came in, sending Annie's out-of-practice heart into Ferrari mode. Her fingers gripped the edge of the counter as James picked up his usual paper, dropped the right money onto the counter, flashed her a smile, and said, “Busy day?”

Annie unstuck her tongue from the roof of her mouth. “Um, quite busy.”

“Right, we'd better be off.” Playfully James tapped his rolled-up newspaper between Tilly's skinny shoulder blades, nudging her toward the door. “Come along, you. Time to go and sit in a traffic jam.” Over his shoulder he added casually, “Have a good weekend.”

On automatic pilot, Annie called, “You too.”

It was like waking up on the morning of your birthday and watching the postman walk straight past your front gate.

The shop door swung shut behind them. Annie ran her fingers through her hair. Oh well, that was that then, so much for getting her hopes up. What on earth had Tilly been on about?

***

“You didn't.” James blanched. “Tell me this is a joke, Tilly. Please.”

On their way back to the parking lot, Tilly had casually dropped her bombshell. James abruptly stopped walking; this was awful, just awful.

“It's not a joke, it's perfect. You need someone to take along to this dinner thingy, and Annie said she'd love to go. I think she's a really nice person.” Tilly stuffed her hands into her blazer pockets and stood her ground. “And if you don't take Annie, Miriam's going to fix you up with that awful Eliza.”

“But… but…”

“Eliza's a horse,” Tilly said bluntly. “She laughs like a horse, she has teeth like a horse, and she has hair like a horse. You really don't want to take Eliza. And you can't pull that pretending-to-be-ill trick again. Come on, I've done all the hard work. All you have to do now is officially ask Annie. You already know she's going to say yes.”

If there had been a brick wall handy, James would have banged his head against it.

“Tilly, you're thirteen. I know you're trying to help, but this isn't how it's done. I don't even know the woman. She sells me my newspaper, that's all. You can't march into your local newsagents and invite the person behind the counter to your boss's dinner party.”

Tilly remained calm. “Why not?”

“Because… oh, for heaven's sake, because you just
can't
.” Closing his eyes briefly, James realized that when he'd burst into the shop ten minutes ago, Annie must have been expecting him to raise the subject. What a mess, what a complete and utter balls-up. And now it was up to him to sort it out.

“I'll have to explain to her,” James said wearily. “You stay here. I'll be back in five minutes. This is going to be embarrassing,” he added. “Never
ever
do anything like this again.”

When he arrived back at the shop, Annie was serving another customer. Glancing up and seeing James, she flushed and hurriedly looked away again. Just as the customer finally left and James opened his mouth to speak, a young mother came in with two small children and he was forced to spend the next few minutes pretending to flick through car magazines while the children dithered and bickered endlessly over their choice of penny sweets.

At last they were alone together in the shop. Annie, her cheeks flushed, said hesitantly, “Hello again.”

James wished he only had something simple to do, like saw off his own legs.

Mentally bracing himself, he plunged straight in. “OK, look, this is awkward.”

“It doesn't have to be.” Annie's tone was hesitant.

“Well, obviously Tilly's just told me what she said to you. I had no idea she'd been planning something like this. I'm so sorry,” said James, “it must have been incredibly difficult for you. I do apologize. Anyway,” he rushed on, before any other customers could come in and interrupt them, “I've explained to Tilly that she can't go around doing things like this, and I'm really sorry she put you in an awkward situation. Please, forget she said anything. Just put it out of your mind. And, um, sorry again.”

Annie had been listening to every word. Now, she tucked her unstyled fair hair carefully behind her ears and said, “Right. OK.”

“Kids these days.” James adopted a hearty tone. “I don't know where they get it from.”

“Oh, absolutely.” Nodding vigorously, Annie flashed him a wide smile, the kind people adopt when instructed by a photographer to say cheese. “It must be scary, wondering what she's going to come up with next.”

“Well, quite.” James knew he should be leaving but couldn't quite figure out how to do it without seeming rude. “I mean, I know Tilly's only trying to help, but she doesn't understand. You know how it is with these work-related dinner parties. Everyone else is married, so they expect you to turn up with someone too, because otherwise you'll have completely messed up their seating plan, or some such nonsense. I mean, imagine the horror of eleven guests instead of twelve at dinner; two men might actually have to sit next to each other, it just doesn't bear thinking about.”

“Mad,” Annie agreed, her smile slightly forced. “Well, good for you, not letting yourself be bullied into taking someone along.”

James realized she thought he was a lot braver than he actually was. Hastily he said, “Oh no, I'll still have to take someone. You don't know my boss.” He pulled a face, so she'd understand. “Turning up on your own would be like committing professional suicide.”

Annie nodded. “Well, I'm sure you'll have a nice time once you're there. Goodness, is it ten to six already?” She began counting busily through the newspapers piled up on the counter.

Taking his cue to leave, James turned and made his way past the racks of magazines.
Horse
and
Hound
caught his eye, reminding him automatically of horsey Eliza. Damn, he might have solved one problem but there was still the dilemma of who he could actually take along to Cedric's wretched dinner party.

He reached the door, then turned.

Cleared his throat.

“Of course, if you wanted to come with me, that would be great. Not because you're too polite to say no, but because you think you really might enjoy it… um, well, you probably wouldn't… no, don't worry…”

“I'd like to go with you,” said Annie. Surprising herself.

“Really?” James couldn't quite believe he'd done it. “Are you sure?”

“Why not?” For the first time since his arrival, her facial muscles relaxed. “If you're sure you want me.”

“It might not be much fun.” He felt it only fair to warn her.

“We could make it fun,” said Annie.

***

James had been gone for ages, far longer than five minutes.

“I'm sorry,” Tilly blurted out when he finally reappeared.

“OK.”

They turned and headed for the parking lot.

“Was it awkward?”

“Yes.” James was striding along at top speed.

“Was she upset?”

“She did her best to hide it.”