A Desirable Residence - By Madeleine Wickham Page 0,98

the floor where it had lain, followed Liz out, and stopped in amazement. Alice was coming out of her bedroom, looking like a twenties flapper in a short, flirty dress and dark-lashed, shining eyes.

‘You look beautiful!’ said Jonathan with conviction. ‘Really stunning.’ His eyes rested on her Doc Martens. ‘I take it those are part of the ensemble?’ he added humorously.

‘Yeah,’ muttered Alice. She looked at him, at his battered grey trousers and faded shirt. ‘Is that what you’re wearing?’ she began in alarm.

‘No,’ said Jonathan patiently. ‘I’m going to change. Don’t worry, Alice,’ he added, in a light, toneless voice, ‘I won’t embarrass you in front of your friends. I’m not going to come as a duck.’ He tried to catch her eye, but Alice flushed and looked away. Liz, who had been applying a last coat of lipstick and not listening, looked up.

‘Right, come on, Alice,’ she said. ‘See you there, Jonathan.’ And with a schoolgirl-light step, she hurried down the stairs. Alice followed slowly, dragging her feet, half wanting to smile at her father and say, ‘See you there!’ and half hoping he would decide at the last minute not to come. She turned at the bottom of the stairs, and looked up, thinking she could compromise by saying a friendly, ‘Goodbye!’ But he had gone.

When Alice and Liz arrived at twelve Russell Street, the lights were on, and music was pounding through the walls. Liz hesitated momentarily.

‘Is this my sort of party?’ she said, more to herself than Alice.

‘Of course it is! Come on!’ Alice looked crossly at Liz. She was feeling a bit nervous, too, and didn’t need her mother making her feel worse.

But when Duncan opened the door, suddenly everything seemed OK. He was dressed, like Liz, in a red silk shirt, with rosy cheeks to match. Music flooded out and around him like a warming wave of water, and he kissed each of them elaborately before allowing them past the threshold.

‘Welcome, welcome!’ he exclaimed. ‘Some honest Silchester residents! You’re the only people from Silchester so far,’ he added in a stage whisper.

‘Who are all those people in there, then?’ asked Alice, giggling.

‘Horrible Londoners,’ replied Duncan confidingly. ‘Not our sort at all. But they insisted on coming, so what can you do . . . ?’ As he led them into the crowded sitting-room, Liz looked at Alice and laughed.

‘He’s quite a character!’ she said, raising her voice above the music.

‘I know,’ said Alice, feeling suddenly superior. These were her friends. She looked around for Piers. But although there were plenty of men in the room who looked a bit like Piers, he didn’t seem to be one of them.

‘Hello, you two!’ Ginny bore down on them, eyes glittering. ‘Have a drink! Have two!’ Alice looked at Ginny uncomfortably.

‘I’m sorry about this morning,’ she began.

‘Oh that!’ Ginny waved her hand rather manically in the air. ‘No problem! No problem!’ She grinned fiercely at Alice.

‘What happened? At the audi . . . meeting?’

‘They’re still in conference,’ said Ginny airily. She thrust the bottle she was holding at Alice. ‘Here, help yourself. I must just go and say hello to my business partner.’ She strode off, and Alice looked at Liz helplessly.

‘Well!’ said Liz. ‘What’s with her? Is she on drugs?’

‘I don’t think so,’ said Alice puzzledly. ‘I don’t know what’s wrong. She’s not normally like that.’

Ginny felt as though she was about to fall over the edge. As she swooped down on Clarissa, glamorous even in pregnancy, shrieked over the sight of her swelling stomach with unbearable gaiety and engaged in the obligatory treble kiss, her eyes were darting feverishly around the room. She wanted to scream. Bloody Duncan seemed to have invited everyone they knew to this party, friends and enemies alike. They’d all come down from London in a convoy of cars, and all the property people were yelling about provincial house prices, and all the actors were asking if it was true that Piers was up for a part in Summer Street.

And still the phone hadn’t rung. For a while, Piers had come down and talked to people, always with one eye permanently on the telephone, parrying questions about Summer Street until people gave up. Now she didn’t know where he was. And that bloody little Alice, with her dowdy mother, turning up and asking so blatantly about the audition. If she’d asked any louder, somebody might have heard. Ginny looked across the room at Alice, already being chatted up by some