She slipped into Rachel’s voice for the last sentence, hoping to raise a smile.
‘Their new arrangement takes its toll on both of them and our hero finds himself provoking her jealousy. And the appearance of a more suitable suitor has made things more of a mess. He’s older than the heroine, a local of the kingdom and a wealthy painter of some renown.’
They watched Barbara Stone tip her head back, cackle and pat Charlie’s arm. He was lucky she didn’t tickle him under the chin and pat his head.
‘And this new suitor is precisely the man the queen would want for her daughter. In the kingdom this man is a handsome prince and our hero, for all his success and beauty, is a frog.’
Becky followed Virgil’s gaze over to Rachel, who had her arm linked through Charlie’s and was quaffing champagne as if it were lemonade.
Virgil gripped Becky’s elbow and turned her to face him. ‘And what does the hero do next?’
‘He doesn’t give up. And, while waiting for the princess to see sense, he goes to dinner with another frog, although he only asked her out to annoy the princess. Which worked, by the way, I think she hates me.’
‘I get that feeling too. Sorry.’ His gaze flickered back to Rachel, who was emptying another glass. He sighed. ‘The course of true love and all that, eh?’
‘Never did run smooth. A Midsummer Night’s Dream, act one, scene one.’
He raised his eyebrows. ‘Showing off your hidden depths again?’
‘You should be so lucky.’ She winked at him. ‘But I would be delighted if you would come with me to the art society’s New Year’s ball.’
His smile hardened into a grimace. ‘That could be very complicated.’
‘She’s going with him,’ Becky said, waving her hand towards Charlie.
‘I don’t think so. She’s not interested in him in that way.’
His voice had cracked and he dropped his gaze to the floor. Becky stepped closer and put a hand on his shoulder. ‘Please think about it. It’s over six weeks away. If nothing else, I’ve heard it’s a good party. I can dance.’ She nudged him. ‘And for you, I’ll even wear a dress.’
Chapter 34
With Virgil gone, Becky dutifully turned her attention back to the room. Watching the bride and groom twisting and shouting with their friends while the older guests shuffled home, she could tell there would be no more trouble. She was finished for the day.
She looked at her phone for what had to be the hundredth time that evening. She knew this was irrational: Phoebe would have called if anything had gone wrong.
A deep voice, raised to cut through the music, said, ‘She would have called you if there were a problem. And he’ll have been in bed for the past couple of hours.’
‘Reading my mind now, Charlie?’ she shouted back.
He smiled instead of trying to compete with the ear-shredding noise coming from the disco. The music was also masking what appeared to be a heated discussion between Rachel and Virgil on the other side of the room. Squinting in their direction, Becky wished she could read lips, although the frantic gesticulating suggested they weren’t having a pleasant chat about the centre arrangements.
Becky couldn’t tell if Charlie was watching the same show but hoped she could distract him from it. ‘Did you like the cake?’
‘Delicious, as always.’
‘Although you’d still prefer a slice of the synthetic school sponge?
‘Some people can’t be helped.’
‘The new window display at Sweet’s looks great.’
‘Thanks. My idea.’
‘I should have known.’
‘Why?’
‘Ronnie’s a genius with cake. But the painted backdrop … not something she could make herself.’
The DJ lurched into a piece of music which was a ghastly, pounding din. She tapped Charlie on the shoulder and signalled to the door. He nodded and they made a quick exit.
The lobby was deserted and, with the noise in the banqueting hall trapped behind a forest of oak panelling, mercifully quiet. They wandered a short distance from the hall doors and stopped near the giant Christmas tree beside the reception desk. Becky guessed its early presence, over five weeks before Christmas, meant it was expensive and the club were getting their money’s worth. The decorations alone must have cost hundreds: silver and mauve tinsel with matching globe baubles; strings of fairy lights fading on and off in a hypnotic glow; and at the base a pile of boxes wrapped in gold paper and silver bows. The overall effect was chillingly beautiful, but Becky would have preferred to see some red and green, or any sign the tree had been dressed by a person rather than a team of joyless robots.
Speaking of which.
‘You met Barbara Stone and survived. Congratulations.’
He blinked a few times. ‘She was friendlier than I’d been led to imagine.’
‘It certainly looked like you were getting on.’
‘I suppose so.’ He frowned and scratched the back of his head. ‘Anyway, you were talking to Mr Locke for a long time.’
‘Oh? Was I?’ She hadn’t thought anyone had been watching her conversation with Virgil, let alone Charlie who’d had his hands full of Rachel and her mother for the duration. ‘Yeah, well,’ she said, ‘Virgil can be very charming when he wants to be.’
‘He was doing a good job of charming you. What were you talking about all that time?’
‘This and that. Nothing important.’ She moved so she could rest against the wall and out of the path of further questioning; her feet were starting to ache. ‘For starters,’ she said, ‘he thinks the bride and groom made a terrible choice in their first dance song.’
‘It could have been worse.’ He rubbed his eyes and blinked again. ‘Could have been “Every Breath You Take”.’
‘Exactly! I hate it when couples choose that one. What did you and Mel have?’
‘“It Had to Be You”.’
‘Ah! Excellent choice.’
‘Glad you approve. And what would Ms Watson, the great wedding expert, choose for herself?’
‘Purely hypothetically—and not that I’ve had the chance to give it a lot of thought—but Louis Armstrong’s version of “La Vie en Rose”, or maybe Nat King Cole and “Let There Be Love”. I like the lyrics and they’re both easy to dance to.’
‘And does Mr Locke have a favourite?’
The question had a sharp and rusty edge. ‘You don’t like Virgil much, do you?’ she said. ‘What’s that about?’
He shrugged. ‘He upsets Rachel. I don’t want him to start on you.’
She shook her head and took a step away from the wall so she could straighten his tie. ‘Don’t worry about me. I’m immune to good-looking scoundrels. I’ve been inoculated by prior exposure.’ Satisfied with his tie, she moved onto his pocket square. ‘More importantly, did you ask Rachel to the ball?’
The bemused smile he had been wearing while watching her improve his appearance twisted into a wince. ‘No. Actually, I wanted to talk to you about that. I’m not convinced she’d be interested.’