Sweet Deception

by Tara Bond

  “Hair of the dog,” I said, before forcing myself to take a large sip just to irritate her. Her lips pursed, and I forced a smile. But as soon as she turned her attention to Toby, I pushed the glass away.

  * * *

  Lunch dragged on for what seemed like forever. It was a light summer menu of a smoked salmon starter, followed by lemon zest chicken, accompanied by baby new potatoes and crisp green beans. By the time the plates had been cleared, almost two hours had passed. I wondered about trying to make an escape for a quick fag break. But before I could do so, the waiters started serving plates of Eton mess dessert and filling up the champagne flutes on the table—a sure sign that the speech part of the festivities was upon us.

  When everyone’s glasses were filled, my father got to his feet, and the room slowly fell silent. I was pleased he was getting to talk for once—my mother’s feminist zeal meant she was forever taking charge, just to prove that she could. It was nice to see my dad taking centre stage for a change.

  He started by thanking everyone for coming, and then began to talk about him and my mother as a couple—how they’d met and fallen in love, married and begun to build a life together, supporting each other’s hopes and dreams along the way. It was lovely to hear him reminisce like that, and I could see the guests around the room smiling at his anecdotes.

  “And best of all,” he said finally, looking tenderly towards Kate and then me. “She gave me three beautiful children, Christopher, Catherine and Charlotte. They have given us both so much pleasure over the years, and it has been a joy to watch them grow up.” He paused, and I could feel the room tense a little, as everyone knew what was inevitably coming next. “Of course, sadly our wonderful son Kit was taken from us far too soon.” People’s eyes dropped to their tables, suddenly unable to watch my father. It was funny how uncomfortable grief made everyone. I kept my head up, and watched my brave father plough on. “However, as much as we miss him, we still cherish the memories that we have of the time we did get to spend with him, and feel proud of the tremendous young man he had become.”

  There was the faintest catch in his voice. He bowed his head a little, and waited for a beat to collect himself before turning to my mother. “So, my darling wife, Eleanor, I’d like to thank you for a wonderful thirty-five years of marriage, and I can only hope for many more.”

  He raised his glass of champagne, and all the guests did the same. As I reached for my flute, I was surprised to find tears gathering in my eyes. I quickly brushed them away with the back of my hand. I hated the idea of anyone seeing me cry. But as I turned my attention back to my father, I felt someone’s gaze on me. I looked over, and saw Richard watching me from across the table. He’d clearly seen my display of emotion, and I felt my cheeks flush. But instead of teasing me, he raised his glass in my direction, and mouthed, “To Kit.” The gesture brought a small smile to my face, and I raised my glass back.

  The moment was broken as my parents kissed, and the room burst into a round of applause. With the speech finished, my mum and dad sat back down. But before lunch could resume, my sister’s boyfriend, Toby, got to his feet.

  “If you wouldn’t mind,” he began. “I’d like to say a few words, too.”

  I sighed loudly enough for people at the next table to turn and cast disapproving looks at me. I ignored them. I couldn’t stand Toby, and I didn’t care who knew it. Apart from my mother, he was the main reason I avoided family get-togethers. It was typical of him to try to steal the limelight today. It was my parents’ anniversary, and he had no business standing up to make a speech.

  “Thank you, William, for that wonderful speech,” he said, before anyone could object. “And thank you both for inviting us all to your home today to celebrate this glorious occasion with you.” I couldn’t help rolling my eyes. His words sounded hollow to me, devoid of any real sentiment. “I was lucky enough to meet your elder daughter, Kate, almost eight years ago now. As when you two met, I was instantly smitten, and like you, I’ve wanted to make our union permanent.”

  He paused dramatically, and dropped down onto one knee. There was a collective gasp around the room as everyone worked out what he was about to do. My hand tightened on the stem of my champagne glass, gripping it so hard that I feared it might snap right off.

  “And so, Kate,” he went on. “In front of all your friends and family here today, I’d like to ask whether you’d do me the honour of agreeing to marry me.”

  Kate’s eyes were wide and her mouth open, in an almost cartoon-like picture of surprise. It was quite obvious to anyone looking at her that she really hadn’t known anything about Toby’s proposal today. I felt a twinge of sympathy for my sister. It was a difficult position to put her in—she really didn’t have much choice but to accept, unless she wanted to humiliate him. For a split second, I hoped she might just do that. But then she seemed to finally pull herself together, and the stunned look on her face dissolved into a tender smile.

  “Yes.” Kate spoke so softly that only those of us sitting close enough to her could catch what she was saying. But the happy expressions on the faces of the newly betrothed couple and my parents left no one in any doubt as to what was going on. “Yes, of course I’ll marry you!”

  As she stood and threw her arms around Toby, the room broke into another round of applause. And then it seemed everyone was on their feet, rushing to shake Toby’s hand and kiss my sister’s cheek.

  I was left sitting alone, watching guest after guest congratulate Toby and my sister. As I stared fixedly ahead, I raised the champagne flute to my lips and downed the contents in one go.

  “Charlotte?” I’d been so absorbed in the scene that I hadn’t noticed my mother appear beside me. She ducked her head towards me, so no one could overhear her words. “You need to go over and congratulate your sister and Toby.”

  “Do I have to?”

  “Yes, you do.” She sighed, and shook her head in exasperation. “I don’t know what your problem is with Toby. The two of you used to get on so well.”

  “Yeah? Well, that was a long time ago.” My mother just gave me a look—the one that said she wasn’t getting into an argument over this. I sighed in defeat. “Okay, okay. I’ll do it.”

  “Good.”

  My mother waited, clearly intending to make sure I went through with it. I sighed again and slowly got to my feet. There was a crowd around my sister, and I would have hung back, but when other guests spotted me, they cleared out of my way, mistakenly believing that I was eager to reach the happy couple. When Kate spotted me, she rushed over and flung herself into my arms. She was shaking with excitement.

  “I really wasn’t expecting this!” She pulled away, and I could see her eyes were bright and her cheeks flushed with happiness. I felt a pang of guilt that I couldn’t feel happier for her. “I can’t believe I’m engaged!”

  My sister didn’t seem to notice my lack of response. She was too caught up in her big moment. She gave me one last hug, and then a second later she was swallowed up in a crowd of well-wishers.

  With my duty done, I turned away, eager to get back to the safety of my table. But before I could move, Toby appeared in front of me.

  “Charlotte, could I just have a moment?” he said, with what I presumed was his best impression of sincerity.

  I crossed my arms over my chest, the classic defensive posture.

  “What is it?” My voice was as cold and unfriendly as I could make it, and he winced at the tone.

  “Look, I know we haven’t always got on. But I hope now, with me marrying your sister, we can put our differences in the past.” He paused, his blue eyes growing solemn. “For Kate’s sake, if nothing else.”

  With that, he reached out and squeezed my arm. My whole body tensed as he touched me. He couldn’t have sounded more sincere during his little speech, but I didn’t believe a word of it. It was embarrassing to think that I used to have a crush on the smarmy bastard. I felt ashamed of my eighteen-year-old self for having such poor judg
ement.

  I didn’t trust myself to speak, so I just fixed him with a glare. He immediately released my arm, and without a word, I brushed past him and hurried back to my table.

  I felt a moment of relief as I slipped back into my seat. And then a knot of anxiety began to form in my stomach. I felt so detached from the festivities. My sister’s engagement had made me feel even more isolated from my family than usual. There must have been more than two hundred people here today, and yet I don’t think I’d ever felt so alone.

  By chance, a waiter happened to be passing nearby with a tray of freshly filled champagne glasses.

  “Hey, wait.” He stopped, allowing me to reach up and grab a flute. I downed it in one, and put the empty glass back before grabbing another, plus a half-filled bottle that he’d brought with him for top-ups. He looked shocked by my behaviour, but clearly didn’t know what to do about it. I flashed him a smile. “That’ll be all for now. I’ll get back to you if I need anything else.”

  I glanced around to check no one had noticed what I’d done. They hadn’t—they were far too busy discussing the big announcement to pay any attention to me. So I poured another glass of champagne and started to drink. It was the only way I was going to get through the rest of the afternoon.

  * * *

  Half an hour later, everyone had finally returned to their seats. Clinks of cutlery against porcelain could be heard as the guests began to eat their dessert. I picked up my fork, and half-heartedly scooped up some of the Eton mess, but the gooey meringue seemed too sweet after all the champagne. Pulling a face, I pushed my plate away, and instead surveyed my surroundings, looking for something to occupy me.

  Conversation buzzed around me, none of which I felt like joining in with. My mother was busy talking to my sister and Toby, no doubt already making wedding plans, while my dad was occupied with Richard and Petra. Grace had excused herself to visit the ladies’ room, which left just Winston and me unoccupied. He’d also finished with his pudding, and was sitting staring into his coffee. I would have turned away, imagining we had nothing to say to each other, but then I noticed his fingers tapping away in time to the piece that the jazz quartet was playing.

  I slid over into Grace’s seat, and elbowed him to get his attention.

  “Hey.” He looked up, startled to find me addressing him. I nodded towards the band, who were seated on the other side of the room. “You like the song?”

  “Uh . . . yes.” He looked a little taken aback by the question, but then he appeared to relax, as though he’d assessed my interest as genuine. “It was actually the first dance at our wedding.”

  “Really?” My surprise wasn’t faked. It was hard to imagine Winston having any kind of sentimental moment.

  His mouth softened into a small smile. “Yes. I was dreading it, you know. All those people looking at me. So I took dance classes, to surprise Grace on the day. Became pretty good at it, too.”

  “Wow! I’m impressed.” Then a thought occurred to me. “How about you show me some moves?”

  Winston laughed a little, “Oh, no. I don’t think so—”

  He obviously didn’t think I was serious. “Come on. I insist. Let’s show them how’s it done.”

  As I got to my feet, I stumbled a little, feeling dazed. I’d worked my way through the rest of the champagne, without anyone having noticed. The bubbles had gone straight to my head, no doubt partly because last night’s alcohol wasn’t fully out of my system, so I felt more drunk than I should.

  I tried to focus on Winston, who hadn’t made any move to get up. “Come on,” I repeated. “What’re you waiting for?”

  “Honestly, Charlotte.” His eyes darted nervously around, as it dawned on him that I was serious. “I really don’t think this is a good idea—”

  I grabbed his arm, ignoring the horrified look on his face. “Don’t be shy. It’ll be fun.”

  I tried to haul him up. Horrified, he pulled back. For a moment, a tug-of-war went on between us, and then I heard the sound of cloth tearing. A second later, the arm of his suit jacket ripped from its seam, sending me stumbling backwards.

  I felt the ground slip from beneath me, and I grabbed at a tablecloth, trying to steady myself. But it was too late. I crashed onto the floor, landing hard on my bum, and dragging the contents of the table down, too.

  As the cutlery and plates clattered to the ground, there was a collective gasp of shock from around the room, as everyone turned to see what the commotion was about. With me flat on my back, and Winston clutching at his damaged suit, I could only imagine what the other guests made of the situation. I saw the looks of horror on everyone’s faces, and for some reason it struck me as funny, and I started to laugh, big, hysterical guffaws that seemed out of place in the shocked silence of the tent.

  Grace had reappeared and now rushed to her husband’s side. All around me, anonymous hands were helping me up, asking in concerned tones if I was okay.

  “Don’t worry, everyone,” I said, as I straightened up, brushing off my skirt. My tone was overly loud, and I was feeling no pain, no doubt due to all the alcohol. “I’m fine. Nothing damaged apart from my ego.”

  Before I could even think of my next move, Richard appeared by my side, catching hold of my upper arm. Everyone no doubt assumed he was checking I was all right, so no one noticed as he whipped me round to face him, his disapproving dark eyes searching mine.

  “How much have you had to drink?” His question was rhetorical, more of a rebuke than anything else. He shook his head, “Couldn’t you let your parents have this one day without ruining it?” I wanted to explain what had gone on—that I hadn’t intended for any of this to happen. But he’d clearly already made his judgement, so instead I dropped my eyes, unable to stomach his look of reproach. I heard him sigh. “I think it’s time I took you home.”

  I wasn’t about to argue with that.

  He looked around the room. At first I wasn’t sure what he was doing, but then I saw Petra. He inclined his head, and she came over to join us.

  “We’re leaving.” His tone was brusque.

  “So soon?” She sounded disappointed, but then her eyes darted between us, and she seemed to sense there was something going on and shut up.

  My parents were on their way over to check on Winston. Richard guided me across the room, skilfully heading them off. His grip on me was firm, but he needn’t have worried—I wasn’t about to object. The sooner I got out of here, the better.

  He made our excuses to my parents, saying he had to get back to London to do some work that night.

  “And pass on our apologies to Kate,” he said smoothly, casting a glance towards my sister, who was apologising profusely to Winston and Grace. “She seems to have her hands full at the moment, but I’ll call her during the week to catch up.”

  “Of course. We’re just sorry you couldn’t stay longer.” My mother’s eyes moved to me, making it clear that she knew I was the reason for our abrupt departure.

  My father looked at me with concern. “Are you okay, poppet?”

  I felt a twinge of guilt for making him worry. It was the last thing he needed in his condition. “I’m fine.” I managed a smile. “You don’t need to worry about me.”

  With that, Richard caught me by the arm and led me out. It was probably just as well—I’d already caused enough damage for one day.

  Chapter 4

  Brakes screeched, and the car came to a sudden halt, throwing me forwards so I woke with a start. For a moment I couldn’t work out where I was, mostly because it was now dark. I sat up and looked round and saw that we were stuck in traffic on the Euston Road, just coming up to Kings Cross. That meant I’d slept the entire way back to London—no doubt courtesy of all the champagne I’d drunk at lunch.

  Richard glanced back at me. “You all right?”

  I nodded, too groggy to form a sentence.

  The Mercedes inched forwards. All around us, horns blared, as drivers became increasingly frustrated with being
overtaken by pedestrians. We’d hit the Sunday night rush hour, as everyone flooded back into London after the weekend. The mood in the car was quiet and tense. Even Petra didn’t attempt any conversation—I think she could sense that Richard wasn’t keen to engage in idle chatter.

  “Can you drop me at the Nick?” I asked, breaking the silence. It was the bar where I worked, and spent most of my free time, too. I’d planned to go home and change before heading there, but at this rate it was going to take another forty minutes to get back to the flat.

  Richard raised a sceptical eyebrow. “Have you got a shift tonight?”

  “Seeing a band.”

  He sighed. “Fine. Just tell me where I’m going.”

  I directed him towards Camden, where the Nick was located just off the main high street. It was quite a journey for Lindsay and me to get there, but it was one of the best venues for up-and-coming rock bands, so we considered it worth the trek.

  Ten minutes later, Richard turned right onto a dark, cobbled alley. The Nick was buried at the end of the street.

  He pulled up outside the bar. Two guys with shaved heads and tattoos covering their arms walked past us. I could see Petra’s hands automatically tighten on her handbag, her eyes widening with fear. The skinheads gave us a look of undisguised curiosity—I was certain they’d never seen a £100,000 sports car parked outside the Nick before—and disappeared inside the bar.

  “Well?” I made no effort to keep the impatience out of my voice. “Are you going to let me out sometime tonight?”

  Petra went to say something to Richard—presumably to tell him that she didn’t feel safe here—but he put a reassuring hand on her wrist, to say that he had it all under control.

  He made no move to get out of the car, but instead turned in his seat so that he was facing me. “So what’s your plan, Charlotte?” His voice was more reasonable than usual. “Are you meeting Lindsay here?”

  I shrugged. “She said she’d try to drop by later.”

  “I see.” His face remained impassive, but I could tell my answer hadn’t made him happy. He ran a hand over his face, clearly trying to choose his words carefully. “Look, Charlotte, I’ll be honest with you. I don’t like leaving you alone at a place like this.”