Cassie moaned. ‘I see you haven’t given up on that silly idea of a reunion sing-along.’
‘It will be a laugh, you’ll see.’
‘It’ll be a disaster! We haven’t rehearsed anything. I’m not even sure I can remember any of the songs.’
‘The words will be on the screen, and we could never sing that well anyway, so it will be just like the old days. Oh, I nearly forgot… Bring your feather duster too.’
‘Whatever for? So I can do a spot of cleaning in the pub between songs?’
‘You’ll need it to tickle people. You’re the good mood fairy after all.’
‘Tickling random people as they eat and drink will make them choke, not laugh.’
‘Just do as I say, will you? Wait a sec, your granddad wants to talk to you. I’ll put him on.’
There were muffled sounds as Rachel put the phone down then her granddad’s voice bellowed down the phone. ‘Hello! Is that you, Trifle? Can you hear me?’
Cassie grimaced and pulled the phone away from her ear. ‘Yes, Granddad, you don’t need to shout.’
He explained that he needed fresh clothes, his smart suit and shoes for the wedding. ‘Can you also take some money from the cash machine? My card and the pin number are in their usual place in the filing cabinet upstairs.’
She sighed. How many times had she told him not to keep his bank details together? ‘Anything else?’
‘Rachel wants you to invite Lambert to Kerry’s wedding reception. One of the groom’s guests cancelled and they’re a man short at the table. Apparently, it’s upsetting the balance or something like that.’
Cassie gasped. ‘Can Rachel not find anyone else to replace the missing guest?’
Her grandfather chuckled. ‘You don’t sound too keen, pet, and yet I had the impression you liked him.’
‘Well, you got the wrong impression, and he feels the same about me. Most of the time, he grabs hold of his coat and his car keys as soon as I arrive, as if he can’t wait to get out of my way.’
‘That’s because he’s shy. Ask him please. We’re counting on you.’
Cassie reluctantly promised, and arranged to drive up to the farm with her grandfather’s clothes and money the following day.
Like every Friday night, the pub was heaving. A crowd of men cheered in front of the giant TV screen where a rugby match was in full swing. Cecilia and Salomé were already at the bar, and Cassie started towards them.
‘If that isn’t the sexiest cleaner in the whole of Cumbria.’ Piers’s voice behind her stopped her in her tracks.
Her spirits sank. She should have realised Piers would be with his rugby pals tonight. Forcing a smile, she swung round. ‘Good evening, Piers.’
Immediately, he wrapped one arm around her waist and bent down to kiss her cheek, his lips straying dangerously close to her mouth yet again. ‘Hmm. You smell nice, as usual.’
And you smell of beer and sweaty rugby socks, as usual, she wanted to reply. She tightened her lips and said nothing.
‘What can I get you to drink?’ he asked.
‘I can’t stop, sorry. I’m meeting my friends.’ She gestured towards the bar where Cecilia, Salomé and Sadie were giggling as they read the cocktail menu. She tried to slide out of his grip but his arm tightened around her waist.
‘Have a drink with me, Cassie.’
‘Sorry, but I’m already late.’
He let go of her at last and she took a step back, away from his wandering hands.
‘Never mind, I’ll take you for lunch when you come to my office for your performance review next week.’
‘What performance review?’ Cassie stared at him, puzzled.
‘The review meeting when you show me your paperwork, I audit your invoices, and we look at the comments in the guestbooks in the holiday cottages.’ He was still smiling but his pale blue eyes had grown cold, and there was now an edge to his voice.
She frowned. ‘We’ve never had a performance review before, and you know I only ever get nice comments about my work.’
‘Charlie’s sister emailed me. She wants detailed reports about the estate. I have no idea why. Charlie’s father used to trust me with everything, but now apparently Gabrielle is taking an interest… As if she knows what she’s talking about. She’s an actress, or a singer, or whatever, not an accountant. She doesn’t have a bloody clue about running the estate.’ He sounded annoyed and his face had turned bright red.
‘By the way, how are things with the French guy at Belthorn? I heard Sophie left you in the lurch. Are you managing all right on your own?’
‘I’m fine. Lambert is fine. Everything’s fine,’ she answered more sharply than she’d intended.
‘Good. Don’t forget Charles promised you a bonus if Lambert gives you a good report. You have to keep him happy.’
‘I’m doing my best.’ With a last, forced smile, she made a quick escape and joined Salomé and Cecilia at the bar.
‘Look who has a big jingly hat!’ Salomé laughed, pointing her finger at her pom-pom hat. ‘It’s Miss Santa Claus!’
Sadie waved her hand towards her friends in a dismissive gesture. ‘Don’t mind them. They’ve had a couple of Big Jim’s festive cocktails already.’
As usual, the barmaid looked very glamorous, dressed in a tight black top and leggings, her make-up perfect, her eyelashes impossibly long and thick, and her hair smooth and shiny. She handed Cassie a drinks menu. ‘All the cocktails are half price tonight. Would you like one?’
Cassie took her coat off and turned to Salomé and Cecilia. ‘Why not? What do you recommend, girls?’
Salomé raised her glass half-filled with a red and yellow drink. Pomegranate seeds trapped in ice cubes floated on the surface.
‘So far, I tried a Red Spanker and an Angel Titsel, and they’re all… hic… delicious!’
Cassie laughed at the silly names and pointed at her friend’s drink. ‘What is this one called?’
‘Rudolph’s Snot. I know. Revolting name, but it’s actually really nice. Here, have a sip. And it’s red, so it’ll match your coat.’
‘I’ll have that one, then, Sadie.’
‘Let’s hope for a successful festive season!’ Cecilia said when Sadie brought Cassie’s cocktail.
‘I’ll drink to that,’ Salomé said, and the three women clinked their cocktail glasses together.
‘Remember… we must look into one another’s eyes and take care not to cross our glasses,’ Cassie said. ‘We don’t want seven years of bad luck.’
‘I thought it was seven years of bad sex?’ Cecilia said.
Salomé shrugged. ‘Pff! I don’t care if I never have sex again. Sex is awfully overrated, if you want my opinion.’
Cecilia pointed to Cassie’s new top. ‘It really suits you. I’m glad you bought it.’
Cassie always felt frumpy next to her friends – fabulously exotic Salomé, with her chocolate-brown eyes and long dark hair, and petite Cecilia, with her bobbed, candyfloss-pink hair, who was always arty and stylish, even in jeans, baggy pullover and wellies.