Don't Mention the Rock Star

by Bree Darcy

  But I bit my tongue and tuned out as Delia talked string quartets and fancy hors d'oeuvres.

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  Curtis met me at the Heathrow gate, equipped with a luggage trolley and an invitation to high tea at his parents’ Kent home that afternoon. It was a proper printed invitation too – on thick cream card with a peach ribbon.

  I was absolutely knackered from my long flight so the last thing I wanted to do was sit around sipping tea and engaging in polite chitchat. But Curtis was eager for us to go.

  He also was eager for me to remove my engagement ring since he hadn’t broken the news yet. He wanted to do it after his parents got to know me better. To be honest, I still wasn’t used to the idea myself.

  Obviously rocking up to meet my future in-laws in jeans wasn’t ideal but surely they would understand all my good clothes were crushed up in my suitcase. “You look fine,” Curtis reassured me. “Gorgeous, in fact.”

  My trepidation increased as the electric gates slid open and our Renault hatch crunched up the gravel driveway. My eyes widened as I took in the white Georgian building with a grey slate roof. Out the back, Curtis told me, there was a flood-lit swimming pool and tennis court.

  Although I was aware that Curtis’ father, Thomas, had been a highly regarded barrister, I expected to pull up at a nice semi-detached. Not some mansion out of the pages of a Regency romance novel.

  Delia was waiting on the threshold, dressed in a pair of tan slacks, cream blouse and peach linen jacket. As we exchanged polite ‘how do you dos’ and I drank in her lilac scent, a slender brunette rushed out to embrace us. Had Curtis forgotten to mention he had a sister? And she was wearing peach too – a beautiful chiffon dress with the hem skimming her knees, teamed with a cream cashmere cardigan. Was it customary to colour-match your clothing with the invitation?

  Then the penny dropped – this must be Ewan’s fiancee, Felicity. She latched on to me like I was her new best friend. We actually looked similar, apart from my hair being several shades lighter. And of course with her fresh-faced exuberance, she appeared as if she had stepped off the cover of a country living magazine while the bags under my eyes were bigger than the ones in the car boot.

  Delia obviously noticed my need for hygiene. “Let me show you to your room, so you can freshen up,” she said. “Curtis, go bring in the girl’s luggage.”

  “Mother, I told you we aren’t staying. I’ve booked into a motel.”

  “What nonsense,” Delia replied curtly. “I’ve made up your old room, Kellie can have the east room.” The house, I was to discover, had nine bedrooms. “You must ring and cancel.”

  Curtis’ expression darkened. Felicity, sensing it was best to let them sort it out themselves, linked arms with me, escorting me to a book-lined room with a fire flickering in the grate and fox hunting illustrations on the toile wallpaper. Father and son were sat at a side table next to the window reading the broadsheets.

  Thomas was pretty much how I pictured him – balding with tuffs of wispy grey hair, a pair of tortoise-shell glasses perched on his nose and his brow furrowed in a state of permanent annoyance. He barely glanced up from his paper to acknowledge my presence.

  Ewan, however, jumped up and after holding me at arms’ length to look me over, kissed me warmly on both cheeks.

  “Isn’t she perfectly divine?” Felicity said clapping her hands together in delight, her diamond and emerald engagement ring twinkling in the light.

  I self-consciously tucked my hair behind my ear, hoping she wouldn’t realise my diamond earrings were imitation only.

  “She is that,” agreed Curtis, entering the room and slinging his arm around my shoulders. “Best decision I ever made, going to Australia.”

  “I would second that,” Ewan said, his round face beaming as he enveloped his fiancee in a bear hug. Curtis’ brother, older by four years, had followed his father’s footsteps into law. His blond hair was thinning, with a bald patch at his crown, and his conservative navy blue sweater and khaki slacks made him look much older than late twenties.

  Felicity extracted herself from the clinch and dragged me over to an uncomfortable gilt-painted couch to show off her wedding portfolio. As she stroked swatches of sky-blue material for the bridesmaids’ dresses, she assured me it was no problem expanding the bridal party to include me as well.

  “That is very generous, my dear,” chimed in Delia. “But I am not sure the church can fit a twelfth bridesmaid in front of the altar. And who would she partner with? Curtis is already escorting Hermione Llewelyn-Warburton.”

  Felicity, with her own double-barrelled surname, had apparently collected many friends over the years. The daughter of an entrepreneur and his third wife, she was educated at boarding schools in Berkshire and Switzerland, had spent her gap year in Milan and now worked in fashion PR. Would she go triple-barrelled when she married, I wondered to myself?

  While his father continued puzzling over the cryptic crossword, Ewan began cross-examining me about my background. My job, in particular, raised some hackles. Thanks to the British tabloids, journalists here were considered on par with criminals and used car salesmen. Curtis did try to win me kudos by explaining I knew the Australian Prime Minister personally but even that didn’t impress since he was on the wrong side of the conservative fence.

  “I’m sure Felicity can put in a good word for you with someone in her line of work,” Delia said, fingering the pearls around her neck. “Find you a nice little job.”

  “Kellie’s a serious journalist, she wouldn’t waste her time in public relations,” Curtis scoffed.

  I frowned, there was no need to be so rude. But Felicity didn’t seem to mind, smiling blithely as she trailed her finger along Ewan’s arm. Thankfully my grilling ended when the maid announced that high tea had been served in the conservatory.

  My stomach rumbled as I eyed the long dining table with crisp cream linen and crystal vases of peach roses. Three-tiered serving plates were laden with enough sandwiches and bite-sized cakes and pastries to feed an army. Despite my hunger, I made a conscious effort not to pile too much on my dainty china plate. Felicity, I noticed, merely nibbled on a cucumber sandwich.

  As the sun streamed in, I nearly nodded off as the family talked about their travels – they all seemed so worldly. Thomas and Delia were heading off soon to a chateau in France’s Loire Valley and Felicity had been away skiing with friends in Austria. Ewan was regaling everyone about a recent trip to Las Vegas where he stayed at the MGM Grand and a colleague had lost his room key off a pedestrian bridge.

  Not wanting to feel left out, I chipped in that I loved Vegas.

  “I never knew you’d been there,” Curtis said.

  “After I finished school, I did some travelling in America with And … rea. We stayed in some real dives but had lots of fun.”

  Curtis wracked his memory. “Which one is Andrea again?” He had heard me talk about Nikki and Dawn even though he hadn’t met them yet.

  “Just someone I met playing tennis,” I replied. “We haven’t kept in touch. I think she lives in California now with her family.”

  Ewan, who was finishing up his third helpings, licked cream off his fingers. “So this is your first time in England?”

  Curtis jumped in before I could answer, explaining how I used scholarship money to visit a few years earlier. He seemed at pains to talk up my achievements. “Kellie’s up for a prestigious media award for a report she did on the homeless,” he concluded. “So that’s why writing about who’s wearing polka-dots this season is totally beneath her.”

  Delia set down her teacup with a clatter and turned to me. “Are you expecting to stay long this time?”

  I glanced at Curtis. “Um, for the foreseeable future, yes.”

  Curtis nodded enthusiastically. “I can’t wait to show her this part of the world. We’re doing a cycling trip around Germany at Easter break. Camping along the way. It’ll be brill.”

  “Eeew,” Felicity said, wrinkling he
r nose. “Sounds simply beastly. You wouldn’t find me staying somewhere where I couldn’t have a bath and plug in my hairdryer.”

  “It’s lucky, then, that Curtis seems to have found his perfect girl.” Ewan turned on the smarm. “And it’s lucky, Flick my dear, that you’re with someone who can afford to put you up in the manner to which you’re accustomed. I wouldn’t think an academic salary would stretch to five-star hotels.” He guffawed loudly.

  I squeezed Curtis’ hand in support.

  “Well,” said Ewan holding up his wine flute. “I’d like to propose a toast to the sheila who caught my brother’s eye. May she enjoy good health and prosperity … although obviously her eyesight is shot!” He chortled again.

  “To Kellie,” Felicity chanted.

  It was then that Curtis dropped our engagement bombshell. The smile slid off Delia’s face and I spluttered as the champagne went down the wrong way.

  “We’re thinking of getting married this summer,” he continued, giving me a helpful thump on the back. He turned to Ewan. “What date have you bagged?”

  This was definitely news to me.

  After fielding dozens of questions from an excited Felicity, I excused myself to the bathroom to escape Delia’s icy stare.

  “I don’t think I fit in here,” I confided to the red cherubs adorning the wallpaper. Feeling almost dizzy with exhaustion, I splashed my face with water and perched on the edge of the cast-iron bathtub, contemplating my situation. Thomas seemed disinterested in getting to know me, Delia was clearly not thrilled at the prospect of me joining the family, and Ewan, under his jovial facade, was a pompous git. At least Felicity seemed thrilled for me and Curtis.

  When I couldn’t hide out any longer, short of feigning a stomach affliction, I made my way back to the conservatory. Turning the wrong way down a corridor, I overheard the brothers in another room.

  “I can’t believe you’d be so stupid,” Ewan fumed. “What were you thinking, you’ve only known her six months. Why the hurry?”

  “I could say the same to you. You were with Felicity for less than that before you proposed. Or are you telling me you were seeing her on the sly before that?”

  “At least I know her well,” Ewan hissed. “How much do you know about this girl? She doesn’t have the sort of background … did you see poor Mother’s face when she heard she was raised by a single mother. She doesn’t even know how to hold a cup of tea properly.”

  Tears welled in my eyes.

  “She’s not preggers, is she? Or don’t tell me you’re doing it to steal attention away from Flick and me. You really need to get over-”.

  “As if I’ve even bothered to give the pair of you another thought! I am marrying Kellie because I love her. It’s as simple as that.”

  “Oh, dear brother. As if love will help when you wake up to the fact that she simply doesn’t have any class. Don’t you know there’s a girl you sleep with, and then there’s the girl you marry – you seem to have mixed the two up.”

  “Don’t talk about Kellie like that or I’ll wipe that smug look off your face.”

  “I’d like to see you try.”

  I crept away, finding my way back to the conservatory. Moments later, a flushed Curtis appeared, telling his parents we were leaving.

  Everyone saw us off to our car, even Ewan who lied through his teeth as he professed how lovely it was to meet me. Felicity made me promise to come down again soon, whispering in my ear that she was confident there would be room for me in the bridal party.

  As Curtis opened the car door for me, I couldn’t hold back a big yawn.

  “You poor thing,” Felicity cooed. “You must be so exhausted.”

  “I certainly can’t wait to get to bed.”

  Ewan collapsed with laughter as I blushed as red as the Pride of England roses lining the driveway.

  “Well, that went well,” said Curtis through gritted teeth as we drove through the gates again. I’m not sure who was more relieved it was over.

  It was impossible to love Curtis more than when I realised he had booked us into a nearby B&B because he knew his family would be too overwhelming for me. As I sank deeper into the hot, bubbly water, Curtis leant up against the tub, chatting away about his new job and our new neighbourhood in Sheffield.

  “I thank my lucky stars every day that I met you,” he said, wrapping a heated towel around me. “I know I should have warned you about my family but I was scared it would put you off. But being in Sheffield means we’ll hardly have to see them, I promise.”

  And I knew then, with some relief after the doubts I’d had while visiting Mum, that Curtis was definitely the right man for me. That he’d always look out for me. I didn’t care what that stuffed-shirt brother of his said, we weren’t making a mistake.

  CHAPTER NINE

  “Do you have to drink your tea that way?” Curtis made an exaggerated slurping noise.

  “I generally prefer to drink it through my mouth. So yes,” I snapped back.

  Curtis was grumpy about having to cancel his ride up to Watsons Bay because his parents had invited themselves over. And I was escaping their visit – cue mad celebratory dancing – because I had a meeting for Ciara’s biennial school fete.

  “RYAN! Get your butt in the lounge now and put those damn Xbox games away.” Curtis threw his dishes in the sink then turned to me with a pleading expression: “Can’t you skip the meeting?”

  “No, I can’t. You know what those school mothers are like. It’s excusable to miss their meetings only upon pain of death. Actually I’m surprised your mother didn’t know it was on. It’s at Grace’s house.”

  Grace Chambers was one of the old girls of Chesterfield Ladies’ College and presided over the women’s auxiliary like the Queen. She and Delia had hit it off – literally – at their tennis club and I’m sure it was Grace’s recommendation that helped Ciara get into the highly regarded school in the first place.

  “Why don’t they meet during the week? It’s not like any of these women have jobs.”

  “How do I know? Maybe they want to escape their in-laws as well.”

  I bustled around, pointing out to my sulking husband where he’d find the cold meat and salad platters for lunch. “If you want to volunteer to go in my place …” I offered.

  Finally he cracked a smile. “Those women would make mincemeat of me. But I warn you, when Mother offers to buy me a new wife for my birthday, I might take her up on the offer.”

  “She’s only been trying all these years. As if anyone else would want you.” I smoothed down his hair and kissed him. “You might still get a ride this afternoon, if you can get rid of your parents in time. Then maybe a DVD and early night?”

  “Sounds perfect. Perhaps I’ll hold off on the new wife for another year.”

  Our daughter, who had wandered into the kitchen to smother a croissant with raspberry jam, winced at her parents’ display of affection.

  “You need to get dressed and turn off the telly,” I instructed Ciara. “Your grandparents are coming over soon and I don’t want Gran having a heart attack over Miley Cyrus’ twerking butt. And in case I’m not back in time, you need to help your father with lunch.”

  “Where you off to?”

  “A school fete meeting. So it’s not like I’m out having fun,” I said pointedly at Curtis.

  And with that I grabbed my handbag and waltzed out the door.

  * * *

  Grace lived alone in a Cremorne Point mansion perched on a cliff. Aged in her late sixties, she had lost her politician husband a few years ago and their only daughter was killed in a car accident when she was a teenager.

  Although it was worth a mint, the creaky old house seemed rather sad and empty. Not that Grace spent much time at home. She was a doyenne on the party circuit, the chair of numerous charities, and a member of several exclusive clubs. Her trademark blunt white hairstyle and immaculate dress sense frequently graced the social pages.

  As one of Grace’s flunkies ush
ered me down a long hallway with ornate arches and polished wooden floors, my senses were assaulted by the heady perfume of hyacinths in cut-glass vases. I blinked at the bright light as we arrived on the limestone terrace with stunning views of the city. My arrival was timed to be absolute last-minute so I didn’t have to engage in chit-chat with the assembled guests. I had absolutely nothing in common with these women, apart from the fact our daughters attended the same school.

  Despite having been married to Curtis for years, I still felt like an imposter. Somehow I could shoot the breeze with any hot-shot movie star or drop-dead-gorgeous model on the job but try to start a conversation with a snoot of yummy mummies who’d been enjoying the spoils of wealth since they were rolling around in Dior babygros and I was completely fazed.

  Matilda Grinsted, whose husband was a wine exporter, tottered around brandishing a bottle of chardonnay in each hand, overfilling glasses as she went. “It must be wine o’clock somewhere in the world,” she giggled.

  I plumped for a glass of sparkling apple juice instead and as I stood admiring the topiary plants, I couldn’t help but overhear two women discussing the injustice of the piano teacher taking time off to visit her terminally ill mother. With exam time approaching, it was unsettling for the students and plain inconsiderate.

  Grace tinkled a bell. “Ladies, we’ll get underway in a moment.”

  Looking around for a place to sit, I realised there was a downside to arriving late. The only unclaimed chair was next to Ashleigh Kerrigan, who was chirping away to a woman I didn’t recognise. With her narrow face and short grey hair, she always reminded me of a pigeon. She even did this weird head movement when she walked. But it wasn’t her bird-like mannerisms or the fact that her musically gifted daughter was only at the school because of a scholarship that had everyone avoiding her like the plague.

  You see Ashleigh was so quietly spoken she was virtually inaudible. The Seinfeld characters called people like her a “low-talker”, you could see her lips moving but no sound came out.