Three minutes to midnight. The cloud of wealth and maturity surrounding Charlie dispersed as the ladies returned to their official partners in time for the big moment. As the indistinct mass of guests split into pairs, Becky realised she still had work to do: she had to find Rachel for Charlie.
Two minutes to midnight. Becky made a lap of the room, staying close to the wall to ease her progress. She stopped next to Ronnie to see if she had any useful intelligence, but she hadn’t seen Rachel either.
One minute to midnight. Standing with her back to the door to the great hall, Becky spotted Charlie in the middle of the dance floor. He was switching his head from side to side, searching for his partner as the clock ticked away the few remaining seconds of the year.
Becky was beginning to despair when she saw them. In the corner of the dance floor nearest to her, Virgil and Rachel were getting a head start on the traditional New Year’s kissing. Becky was impressed; whatever Virgil had said or done, it had worked.
But Charlie was still looking for Rachel. She cursed her bad luck; why did he have to be wearing his glasses? He would have to find out about Rachel and Virgil some time, but this was not the ideal moment or the right way. What to do? She dismissed the option of parting Virgil and Rachel; that would take far too long and might be impossible.
Half a minute to go. A distraction. That could work. She made her way to the middle of the room, skating between the dancers as they slowed and turned towards the projected image of the giant clock face. Charlie disappeared from view and she barked an obscenity, causing the stubbornly immobile couple blocking her way to jump aside.
She had him in her sights again and only a few feet away.
The ten-second countdown began.
‘Charlie!’
He saw her and shouldered the chanting crowd aside, closing the gap between them in a few seconds.
‘Charlie!’ she shouted again, desperate to keep his attention. But his gaze wandered over her head, to the corner of the floor where she had last seen Rachel and Virgil wrapping themselves around each other.
Three seconds. Only one idea came to her. She placed her hand gently against his cheek, drawing his eyes to hers and, on the cry of ‘one!’, she kissed him.
It was over in a second and, as she pulled back, she said, ‘Happy New Year!’, hoping he could hear her over the first bars of ‘Auld Lang Syne’.
But Charlie didn’t appear to be listening to her or anything around him. Without taking his eyes away from hers, he grasped her shoulders and drew her into another kiss.
Becky was vaguely aware of the pops of cannons and the soft rain of glitter confetti tickling her bare shoulders. A blush of sound filled her ears, echoing from the outside world into the small circle holding him and her apart. The air above sparkled with the optimistic cooing of happy people, happy to be saying ‘farewell’ to another year in which they had made lots of mistakes and ‘hello’ to one in which they would doubtless make a lot more. And maybe, just maybe, they would also do something right.
Her fingers tingled as they brushed through his hair. Somehow her hands had found their way to the back of his neck. His were a solid, warm weight at her waist. And when they finally eased apart, that was where their hands stayed while they smiled and blinked at each other.
It was Becky who broke the spell. She dropped her gaze away from Charlie’s, kicking herself for being so stupid. The year was seconds old and she had managed to make her first mistake. She glanced at Charlie, but he was already looking over her head, most likely searching for Rachel and wondering what the hell he’d done. She had to leave. Right now.
‘I have to go,’ she said, backing away. She flinched as Charlie’s smile fell into a frown. ‘Enjoy the rest of the evening and congratulations on the painting!’
As Becky slipped through the crowd, Charlie struggled to free himself from the crush. He pushed and jostled his way to the edge of the dance floor, then ran to the door, throwing himself across the threshold.
But the great hall was empty.
With heavy hands, he dragged his glasses off. His fingers were clumsy as he folded one arm, then the other, and lowered them into his pocket.
Drifting back into the saloon, he sank onto the nearest chair and stared down at his empty hands: an abandoned Prince Charming, all alone without so much as a glass slipper.
JANUARY
Chapter 51
Charlie’s show was a success before it happened. Eager for stories to fill a slow news day, the national press picked up on the record sale price at the ball auction and were keen to speculate as to how it would influence the exhibition opening a week later. With great satisfaction, Rachel was able to pick and choose who attended the gala evening, building a store of goodwill she planned to take with her to the Stone in March, when she would finally sink her claws into the helm of the family business.
Becky spent New Year’s Day busy with the return of Dylan and her parents. Charlie didn’t call her, and when he didn’t call the next day either she put the kiss down to a New Year’s moment of madness which he had already forgotten.
Unfortunately she was finding it a little more difficult to put it behind her and the local press didn’t help. The new year edition of the South Compton Gazette hit her mat on Friday evening. The section covering the ball included a double-page spread containing several photos, including four in colour. One showed the organising committee at the start of the evening; another was a wide shot of the saloon during dinner; and the third featured Barbara, Charlie and the winner of the auction.
The final picture was taken just after midnight. Mike had found a group of revellers willing to pose with their glasses raised to the camera. In the background was the stage and band. The rest of the photo was populated with smiling faces and people hugging, all covered in a shower of multicoloured confetti. And at the left edge of the photo one of the kissing couples jumped out at her.
She sat back and chewed her lip. The image was blurry. If it hadn’t been for her white dress even she might not have noticed them. But if the dress caught Ronnie’s eye too she might ask Mike for a closer look at the original. And then the inquisition would call.
Perhaps Ronnie wouldn’t see it. Perhaps if she kept quiet then everyone else would too, at least until she’d seen Charlie and had a better idea of what was going on.
Preparations for the exhibition progressed with little for Becky to do but check in on everyone else. Ronnie had finalised her plans for the cake. Phoebe had roped her mum into helping her with publicity and was excited by rumours the regional television news were going to broadcast live from the gallery. Lauren was fully up to date. Becky was unable to reach Rachel, but Virgil told her the Coulson was ready and they had a waiting list for admittance to opening night.
That left Charlie. Speaking to Phoebe on Monday she learnt there was another reason she hadn’t heard from him: he was working. According to the teenager, she had barely seen her dad since Friday evening.
‘We had dinner as usual and the last time I saw him he was sitting in the study, his feet up, reading the Gazette. The next thing I know he’s vanished out to the studio and he’s hardly come out since.’ Phoebe dropped her voice. ‘Becky, I think he’s sleeping in there. But from how tired he looks I don’t think he’s sleeping much. At breakfast yesterday he said he was working on an important extra piece for the show and was going to have to put in like, a hundred hours for it to be dry in time. I don’t know much else about it, except it’s large, about four feet by six. That’s one of the reasons it’s so much work.’