Rescuing Rose Page 13

  ‘Ed should have come as The Rake’s Progress!’ I hissed across the table to the twins as the crème brûlée arrived. ‘As for that pigmy he’s shagging,’ I added gaily, ‘she should have come as that Turner Prize-winning pile of elephant dung!’ Amused by my caustic observations I emitted a hollow laugh. But at the same time I was aware that I should have come as Picasso’s Weeping Woman.

  As Henry got up—‘I have to powder my nose,’ he announced—the twins began to fight.

  ‘You’re flirting with him, Bella, stop it!’

  ‘I’m not—you’re paranoid.’

  ‘You are!’ Bea hissed. ‘You always have to try and spoil things don’t you?’

  ‘Oh for God’s sake—don’t be absurd!’

  The auction followed. I tipsily submitted a closed bid for a painting—unsuccessful fortunately as I don’t have the cash—then the raffle was announced: no dice. I stared miserably at my strips of pink cloakroom tickets then the band struck up. Sue and Phil got up to dance and the twins both rushed onto the floor with Henry—still competing for his attention like mad. Theo was talking animatedly to Beverley—now they were getting on like a house on fire and uu…uuuu…. uuuhhh! Someone was pushing a blunt skewer into my heart—there was Ed dancing with Miss Match; or rather Mish Mash, I thought blearily as I drained my glass again. I averted my eyes, but it was like passing a car crash: I didn’t want to see but somehow couldn’t not look. Ed was so gorgeous, even in that ludicrous curly black wig, I thought my heart would break. I willed the glittering chandelier to fall on Miss Fortune and crush her to bits. And now, from the table behind, I heard an animated conversation taking place.

  ‘Yes, he got this call—out of the blue.’

  ‘What? From his mum?’

  ‘Yes. She hadn’t seen him for thirty-five years.’

  ‘Amazing! Thirty-five years?’

  ‘That’s right.’

  ‘So what happened?’

  ‘Well, apparently she was terrified that he’d tell her to get lost, but he didn’t, and now they’ve become best of friends.’

  Christ, that was all I needed—Happy Families: I poured myself some more wine. And now, after seven glasses—or was it eight?—the dancers seemed to swirl and coalesce before my eyes. Lowry stick men, thin as thermometers, danced with bosomy Rubens; bespectacled Gilbert and George suits with frilly Fragonards; a Seurat Bather in red swimming shorts was twirling a bustled Tissot. I glanced at Theo and Bev, still chatting away animatedly as if they’d known each other for years. Hmmmm…

  ‘No, I really do think men are from Mars and women are from Venus,’ she exclaimed hotly.

  ‘Oh that’s not true,’ he replied. ‘For a start there’s no water on Mars, and the atmosphere is mostly carbon dioxide making it impossible to support life. Ditto Venus where the average temperature is 870 degrees Fahrenheit, plus it rains sulphuric acid all day.’ Bev giggled and rolled her eyes. ‘Would you like to dance?’ Theo added.

  ‘Well, I’d love to,’ she replied, ‘but the floor’s a bit too crowded. Maybe later on when there’s a little more space.’

  ‘Are you sure?’ She nodded. ‘How about you Rose? Rose?’

  ‘Wha…?’ I lowered my glass.

  ‘Would you like to dance?’ he asked politely.

  ‘Er…’

  ‘Would you?’ Would I?

  ‘Um…well…’ kay then. Why no’?’ As Bea returned to the table with Henry—Bella was dancing with a Jackson Pollack—Theo and I headed onto the floor.

  ‘So isn’t there any life on Mars then?’ I asked him tipsily. ‘I find that very disappointing.’

  ‘No—at least not during the week. But on Saturday nights it can get pretty lively apparently…’

  I giggled, then saw Ed and stopped.

  Do you really want to hurt me? crooned the singer.

  Yes, Ed, I really do.

  Do you really want to make me cry?

  I’d love to make you cry, I reflected bitterly as Theo spun me round. Ed and Miss Guided were less than six feet away but I heroically ignored them. And now, the tempo slowed.

  I believe I can fly…crooned the lead singer.

  I saw Mary-Claire’s porky little arms go round Ed’s neck. I flung my arms round Theo.

  I believe I can touch the sky…

  I saw her trotters caress his back—well two could play at that.

  I think about it every night and day…

  I saw her stand on tiptoe to grunt sweet nothings in his ear, so I whispered in Theo’s.

  Spread my wings and fly away…

  ‘Thish lov’ly…s’ reely nice,’ I said. I hiccuped, loudly. ‘Oh sorry.’

  ‘I’m glad you’re enjoying yourself,’ said Theo, slightly awkwardly.

  ‘Iss bldy gd fn!’

  ‘Your costume’s grand by the way.’ Grand. That was such a nice word.

  ‘Oh! Snks ver mush.’ I hiccuped again—it was really painful. Then, suddenly exhausted, I laid my forehead on Theo’s shoulder—and felt my head start to spin.

  I believe I can soar…

  Now as we slowly revolved again I looked up and focussed for a second on Bev.

  See me running through that open door…

  She was looking crestfallen and tense, a deep frown pleating her brow. What was up? Oh God—of course. She’d been chatting to Theo all night and didn’t like me dancing with him. I wanted to rush over and tell her she had nothing to worry about: a) he was ten years my junior—he was a baby for God’s sake!—and b) we were just having a bop. He simply felt sorry for his poor lonely old landlady so he thought he’d give her a twirl. To our left Henry and Bea were getting on very well, dancing cheek to cheek. Hmmmm. And now—still conspicuously ignoring them—Theo and I shimmied past Ed and Miss Lay. I was grateful, as we did so, that Theo was at least quite good-looking. Then, emboldened by booze, I looked Ed straight in the eye. Just for a nanosecond. I looked him square in the face. And drunk though I undoubtedly was by now, I registered pain in his eyes. Well he’d brought it on himself, I reflected sourly. Suddenly I felt a sharp pain in my brow.

  ‘Ooh.’

  ‘What’s up, Rose?’ whispered Theo.

  ‘My head really hurts.’

  ‘Would you like to sit down?’

  ‘Yes please. Oh, no!’ Because now the band was playing ‘Every Little Thing She Does is Magic’, one of my favourite songs; and there was Henry, bouncing around with Bea, twirling her this way and that; then I saw him dash over to Bev. He wheeled her onto the floor, then danced with her, prancing around her chair and spinning it vigorously with both hands. Then he suddenly grabbed her by the waist, lifted her clean out of it, and whirled her around. Her blue satin sash streamed behind her like a comet’s tail as she turned her laughing face up; then he spun her round twice more—it made me feel giddy—before replacing her, giggling helplessly, in her chair. Now Theo cut in and danced with Beverley while Henry danced with Bea and me. Stuff Ed and Miss Alliance; this ball was really good fun. It would have been even more fun, however, if my head wasn’t hurting so much. And I was just about to go and sit down when Ulrika Most stepped onto the podium again.

  ‘Ladies and gentlemen, I’d just like to interrupt the dancing briefly for the awarding of the prizes for the best costumes.’ To a trumpet fanfare and the roll of a snare drum, we all retreated to the edge of the floor.

  ‘This has been a very difficult task,’ Ulrika added as she clutched three gold envelopes. ‘You all look wonderful. But the ball committee and I have now cast our final votes for the best dressed guests. So, in unfashionable descending order, I’d like to announce that the first prize goes to…’ she opened the envelope ‘…Magritte—The Therapist!’ We all applauded like mad, as the amazing half birdcage, half businessman, came slowly forward to claim his prize. ‘The second prize goes to…the Andy Warhol Marilyn Monroe!’We all cheered as the Marilyn screen print stepped forward, received her envelope, twirled twice, then took a deep bow. My head felt as though someon
e was trying to bore a hole in it with a blunt Black & Decker so I shut my eyes. But that only gave me the whirlies, so I re-opened them, aware as I did so of Theo’s steadying hand on my arm. ‘And the third prize,’ announced Ulrika, ‘goes to a very authentic Flaming June by Lord Leighton…’ Flaming June?

  ‘That’s you,’ Theo hissed.

  ‘Oh. Yeah.’ I weaved through the people in front of me and crossed the floor towards the podium which suddenly seemed a very long way off. As I did so I was dimly aware of three things. That my head was about to go off like a grenade, that Ulrika’s shoes really sparkled in the lights, and that the man to whom I was still married was standing there. I glanced at Ed. Correction—he wasn’t standing there; he and Miss Deed were on their way out.

  ‘Congratulations!’ said Ulrika politely, holding out an elegant hand. But I didn’t shake it, so much as grab it, for fear that I’d fall down. Ulrika’s face blurred for an instant then swam back into focus. ‘Well done,’ she said with a smile which I now noticed didn’t quite reach her eyes.

  ‘Thank eeuuuhh,’ I groaned as I took the proffered gold envelope.

  ‘Are you okay?’ she asked.

  ‘Wha…?’ My head was hurting so badly I wished someone would guillotine me. ‘I’m…fine,’ I muttered, ‘’slutely fine.’ And I was about to turn round and make my way back when I felt a jet of saliva spurt into my mouth. I leaned forward and grabbed the mike stand for a second then closed my eyes, surprised when I opened them again to see a pool of bright yellow puke on Ulrika Most’s spangly shoes.

  Chapter 7

  I don’t remember much about what happened after that. I was dimly aware of a collective gasp of horror, then individual voices.

  ‘—Oh God she’s chundered.’

  ‘—Maybe she’s ill.’

  ‘—Get a doctor.’

  ‘—No—get Charles Saatchi! He’d pay a fortune for that!’

  I also vaguely recall being wheeled out of the Courtauld in Bev’s wheelchair with her sitting on my lap; and the twins congratulating me for throwing up on Ulrika’s feet—not her dress.

  ‘But they were such lovely shoes,’ I groaned as we’d waited in the Strand for a cab. ‘They were really sparkly. Oh God.’

  ‘She was Most unimpressed,’ Henry quipped. ‘On the other hand Klimt is a bit nauseating,’ said Bella. ‘Yes, disgustingly decadent,’ said Bea. ‘And let’s face it, once you’ve had your arm up a cow’s backside, what’s a bit of sick?’

  ‘And don’t worry, Rose,’ added Henry comfortingly, ‘loads of people had left by the time you vommed.’

  ‘Had Ed definitely left?’

  ‘Yes,’ said the twins.

  ‘Definitely?’

  ‘Definitely.’

  ‘Thank God.’

  The shame, nevertheless, was excoriating; and it was all Ed’s fault. If he hadn’t been there with Miss Adventure my behaviour would have been fine.

  When I awoke the next morning, still clothed, a hangover enveloping me like a black shroud, I realised that Theo had helped me upstairs, removed my shoes, put the duvet over me, and left a bucket and a jug of water by my bed.

  ‘Thanks,’ I croaked in the kitchen as I swallowed two Neurofen, ‘and…sorry. I must have embarrassed you, behaving like that.’

  ‘Well, a bit,’ he said bluntly. That boy doesn’t mince words.

  ‘Ha ha ha!’ Rudy yelled.

  ‘I’m going to make myself reread my Alcohol Abuse Leaflet,’ I added blearily. ‘I haven’t been that drunk since I was eighteen. It was emotional stress,’ I explained.

  ‘About your ex-husband?’

  ‘Well, soon-to-be ex-husband, yes.’

  ‘You referred to him as your “ex-mother,’ ’’ said Theo quizzically.

  ‘Did I?’

  ‘What did you mean?’

  ‘Nothing. It was a slip of the tongue. Anyway, did you enjoy yourself?’ I enquired as I sipped my black tea.

  ‘Oh yes,’ he said. ‘It was grand.’ He smiled that lopsided little smile of his. ‘You’ve got some really nice friends. By the way, I retrieved this,’ he said handing me the gold envelope. Inside was a voucher for dinner for two at the River Café. I took it next door to Bev. I wanted to atone for getting plastered, and for cheaply flirting with Theo whom I knew she liked.

  ‘But it’s yours,’ she said, as I held out the prize. ‘You won it.’

  ‘I want you to have it.’

  ‘Why?’

  ‘It’s my penance,’ I explained blearily as Trevor let me in. ‘Please. I ruined your ball. It wouldn’t have happened if Ed hadn’t been there. I don’t know why he was there,’ I added miserably as we went through to the kitchen. ‘It was a hell of a shock.’

  ‘Well I think I do know,’ said Bev carefully as she ran water into the kettle. ‘I noticed that they were on the same table as one of the ball committee members, Gill Hart. I had to speak to Gill this morning and she told me that she’s an old schoolmate of your husband’s, er…friend,’ she concluded delicately.

  ‘His mistress you mean. And before that she was our marriage guidance counsellor.’ Bev grimaced.

  ‘Yes, you said. You know how nosy I am,’ she went on with a grin. ‘Well, I asked Gill about that—I couldn’t resist—and she said that Mary-Claire’s about to be struck off for breaching Resolve’s ethical code. Apparently they conducted an internal enquiry and after Christmas she’ll get the boot.’

  ‘Great!’ I said. ‘Perhaps they’ll allow me to administer it personally—my Tae-Bo instructor says I’ve a fabulous kick. She’s supposed to save marriages,’ I said bitterly, ‘not break them. She blighted my troth. It was hateful seeing them together. If I’d known I would never have gone.’

  ‘That’s understandable,’ said Bev. ‘If Jeff had turned up with his new woman I’d have been in much the same state. But it’s hard in London; people do know each other. Six degrees of separation and all that.’

  ‘Six?’ I repeated sceptically. ‘It’s more like three, or even two. Anyway I’m sorry I spoiled the ball,’ I added as she poured me some coffee. ‘That’s what I came to say.’

  ‘You didn’t spoil it. It was a wonderful evening. Gill says we raised forty grand—that’s enough to train five puppies—and I thought all your friends were great.’

  ‘And on that front,’ I interrupted her anxiously, ‘can I just say that the only reason I flirted with Theo is because Ed was there with Mary-Claire.’

  ‘Oh,’ she said quietly. ‘I see.’

  ‘Plus I was terribly drunk, as you know. But I have no interest in him whatsoever other than as his landlady and so…’

  ‘Yes?’

  ‘…the coast is clear. I’m just telling you that so that you know.’

  ‘But whatever makes you think I’m interested?’ she asked, with tell-tale touchiness and a give-away red spot on both cheeks.

  ‘Well, because you…talked to him so much and also… Look, I’m not being funny, Bev,’ I added, ‘but when I was dancing with him I noticed that you didn’t exactly look pleased.’

  ‘Didn’t I?’ she said vaguely. She looked genuinely bemused.

  ‘No. In fact you looked rather pissed-off. It was a slow number, and I was a bit over the top, what with being squiffy so I thought…’ I gave her a meaningful look. ‘I thought…’

  ‘Well you were wrong. It was —’ she sighed ‘—because of that song, “I believe I can fly.” It always depresses me because I don’t believe I can fly, let alone soar, and I’m certainly not going to be running through any open doors; plus I might have been feeling a bit down, sitting there, dressed as a bloody ballerina, thinking “I can’t dance.”’

  ‘I’m sorry,’ I said. ‘I just thought that you might, you know, like him so I wanted to reassure you, that’s all.’

  ‘Theo is very nice,’ Bev agreed as she stroked Trevor’s head; ‘he’s very attractive too.’ I thought about that for a moment.

  ‘Yes, I guess he is.’

  ‘And h
e’s obviously had a hard time.’

  ‘He told you about that, did he? About his wife?’

  ‘Yes he did, and well, I’d just like to be friends. But I have absolutely no romantic interest in him whatsoever, Rose. I hope you believe me.’

  ‘Of course I do,’ I lied. I realised that I’d hit a nerve so I thought I’d better change tack. ‘The twins had a good time,’ I went on. ‘Bella got picked up by that Jackson Pollock—now he’s very good-looking—and Henry and Bea got on really well.’

  ‘Yes,’ she said, stirring her coffee.

  ‘And your friends seemed to enjoy themselves.’

  ‘Oh they did; they had a great time.’ An awkward silence enveloped us for a moment during which I registered the slow tick of the kitchen clock. ‘Rose,’ said Bev, diffidently, ‘there was something I wanted to ask you actually…’

  ‘Anything.’

  ‘I was wondering…’

  ‘Yes?’

  ‘Er…I just wanted to ask you…’

  ‘What?’

  ‘Well, it’s slightly awkward actually…’

  ‘Don’t worry. Just ask me.’ She looked at the floor, then looked at me.

  ‘Well…if…if you’d mind taking my costume back to the hire place for me, that’s all.’

  ‘Of course I will,’ I replied. And then I wondered, what was awkward about asking me that?

  It’s three days now since the ball and I’ve put my embarrassing performance out of my mind. I’ve apologised to everyone and sent Ulrika a large cheque, so why go on torturing myself? I have agony aunted myself to the conclusion that although I behaved very badly I can’t put the clock back so I might as well try and forget. In any case I’m very good at not thinking about unpleasant things. I shut them away in my mind. I neatly compartmentalise them and lock the door: a skill which I learned as a child. So I’m not going to dwell on my humiliation: it’s over: what’s done is done. In any case some good things have come out of that evening and so, despite everything, I’m still very glad that I went.