The Party Girl's Invitation

by Karen Elaine Campbell

Chapter12

  Party Capers

  Verity climbed up into the Land Rover with difficulty, complaining loudly about the height of the step. The sexy, slinky mermaid costume, which had looked so attractive in the shop, seriously restricted her movement. The scaly tail and flippers looked very effective, but she could hardly move her feet. She grimaced as she wriggled and squiggled, trying to raise her foot high enough to cope with the gargantuan step-up into the grubby old Land Rover. Why on earth Jools couldn’t just scrap this heap of rusting old iron and purchase a more respectable car, she had no idea. She was never going to be able to dance in this stupid costume, and now it was making her itch in some very funny places. The crystal scales that she’d glued to her bosom were distinctly uncomfortable, the raffia inside of the tail felt like it was made of wire wool and her toes were turning blue with the cold in her dainty silver sandals. The pains she’d gone to in order to look good had been totally lost on Jools, he’d not even taken his eyes from her cleavage long enough to comment on the new kohl stick which she’d purchased at great expense, to rim her eyes in beautiful sea green. She’d gone to immeasurable trouble to look good for tonight, and his first words as he’d walked through the door had been, ‘Come on, we’re late’. He’d better change his attitude fast, or he’d be on his way home alone tonight.

  Jeremy, meanwhile, was so busy admiring the shimmering of the tiny crystal ‘scales’ that she’d somehow managed to attach to her breasts that he had serious trouble in keeping his eyes on the road. He’d tuned out as she’d clambered very inelegantly into the vehicle, and immediately begun her moaning about the snow and the cold and the lack of heating in the Land Rover. The ‘pleasures’ of dating Verity and the servicing of her carnal desires, were beginning to be seriously outweighed by her constant carping and bitchy, bad tempered whining. Her voice really grated on his nerves and he hated the way that she thought the whole world revolved around her needs and her wants. She really was a self-centred bitch. So long as she kept her mouth shut, he decided, then they got on just fine.

  He shoved the car into gear and they set off, tyres sliding on snow which had by now turned almost completely to ice. The temperature had plummeted to freezing as the sun had set and driving was now becoming perilous. There were only a couple more miles to go, so they were already almost halfway there.

  She’d not even commented once, on his change of costume, he wondered if she’d even noticed. He was wearing the traditional stripy pirate top and knee breeches with a fat red silk cummerbund, all topped off by the tricorn hat and an admiral’s cape, heavily encrusted in thick gold braid. The eye patch and the cutlass were on the rear seat, right next to that bloody parcel of Crystal’s which he’d lost earlier in the week. At the thought of his sister he grinned, she might not be too impressed at his change of costume, but when Maisie had asked if she could ‘borrow’ the pirate outfit for a last minute guest, he’d had the prime opportunity to offload the dress onto some other poor unsuspecting guy. He couldn’t wait to see who turned up wearing it, poor sucker.

  He wasn’t going to let Crystal know that he’d swapped, he’d just let her find out for herself. That would teach her to laugh at him, all covered in make-up and miles of satin, as he’d posed for photos for gran, at the dress rehearsal last night. He had a feeling that there was something to this fancy dress business, after all. He’d hoped for a more positive response from Verity if he was honest, but maybe later, once she’d warmed up a bit and sunk a few glasses of champagne, she might be in a more amenable frame of mind then.

  He didn’t see the fox, in the middle of the road, until it was too late. The brakes locked and the tyres squealed on the icy ground as he hit the brakes in an attempt to miss it. They landed in the snow bank bordering the road with a resounding thud.

  Crystal was the last one out of the house. Mark and Ruth had stopped by earlier to collect gran, and they’d agreed to drop Norma off with her sister for the night. She was waiting for Brad now, he was already twenty minutes late. She stood by the front room window with the curtains open and the light from the hallway silhouetting her figure to the world outside. ‘Cinders in rags’ did not require much in the way of a costume, and what had arrived didn’t cover a great deal at all. She’d had to dispense with a bra, as the straps on the chemise were merely two fine wisps of white ribbon and the shredded skirt of the costume was split almost to her waist. Barefoot and smudged in coal dust and grime, she conceded that she really did look like a proper waif and stray.

  Brad let out a low whistle, as he pulled up in his dad’s borrowed Ford and caught sight of Crystal waiting in the front room window. It had been worth the three mile walk in the snow to pick up his dad’s car after all. His pulse tripped and his heartbeat accelerated at the vision of Crystal staring out, into the night, looking for him. He’d barely had time to put the car in neutral, before she opened the front door and stood on the doorstep, goose-bumps prickling at her uncovered flesh.

  He grasped the cutlass and flipped the eye patch back into place and strutted up the front path, singing a sea shanty and doing a passably mean pirate impression.

  Crystal dissolved into fits of giggles, as she took in the striped vest and knee breeches with fine red silk cummerbund, underneath a gold braided cloak and impressive tricorn pirate’s hat.

  Her laughter caused her bare breasts to jiggle around beneath the thin fabric of her costume, in a very provocative manner. Brad would have had to be blind or immune to resist the challenge on offer; he was neither. With a low guttural growl he pulled her warm pliant body in towards his chest, wrapping his arms generously around her body.

  Brought up short, against the wall of his chest Crystal was momentarily nonplussed. She’d always had a soft spot for Brad, and now he’d caught her unawares, he was mighty heady stuff. She ran the tip of her tongue provocatively over her lower lip and moved in closer, meeting his tongue with her own. Her pulse spiked, the hairs along the back of her neck stood on end and she shivered slightly as the full force of his kiss hit home. He returned her tentative provocation with an intensity that threatened to spiral out of control.

  Crystal abandoned herself to the moment, happy to follow wherever he led. Excitement flared in the pit of her stomach.

  The ringing of phone rang was an unwelcome intrusion, which Crystal was fully prepared to ignore. The caller rang off and then tried again.

  With reluctance Crystal broke free from Brad’s arms to finally answer the summons, breathing hard and heart pounding heavily in her chest.

  Brad ran a shaky hand through his hair as he released her, he tentatively ran his tongue over his lips, he could still taste her on his breath. He closed his eyes, he’d come close to losing it for a moment there. He heard her bark her name into the phone handset, she sounded as flustered as he felt. He cursed silently under his breath, he’d had her there, or he thought he had.

  He heard her switch into party organiser mode and his spirits took a nosedive, what a time to get interrupted. She began issuing instructions down the telephone, rapidly firing directions off in a tone that brooked no argument. He pitied the poor person on the other end of that raft of instructions. Crystal sounded very pissed off.

  The moment was broken. As Crystal hung up, she looked apologetically in his direction. “The pressures of leadership,” she quipped. “Burnt dinner and candles which won’t light, just to mention a few of the things that I’ve had to attend to today, you wouldn’t believe the half of it. Come on, we’re late, and I’ll be missed, I’m afraid. We are really going to have to leave now.”

  As he helped her into the car Brad was silently cursing his luck, he’d had her all to himself just then, alone in the house, as well.

  Crystal was silent for a few moments, she too was contemplating exactly what might have happened between them, without interruption. Would she have gone ‘all the way’ with Brad tonight, or not, given the opportunity? He certainly turned her on. Quite honestly, she just didn’t know. There was certa
inly something about him which appealed to her senses on a basic and primal level, but she had a feeling she’d just had a lucky escape. She couldn’t quite put her finger on it, but she had a feeling that a relationship with Brad was just not meant to be.

  They drove the five miles to the ball in silence, neither one knowing quite what to say next, so by tacit agreement neither was able to break the quiet reflective mood.

  Lolly met Reginald at the door to the farmhouse, resplendent in cascades of glittering crystals, her dark hair fashioned into a sleek chignon and liberally dusted with a heavy layer of fake white snow. As the Ice Queen, she glittered and sparkled in an effective interpretation of a queen who ruled over a cavern of ice. Now all she had to do was explain the fancy dress situation, carefully, so as not to upset him. Though, looking at his face, he didn’t look overly impressed.

  Later, she couldn’t say precisely how she’d worded it, but he flatly refused to put on the cloak or wear the fangs. There was no way he was being manipulated, he’d stated in cold, clipped tones, hands thrust deep into the pockets of his trousers, as he’d stared out of the front room window and into the night. He wouldn’t even look at her, he merely glowered out of the window and rattled the loose change in his pockets, while a facial muscle worked overtime, high on his cheekbone.

  Trying hard not to cry, Lolly glanced out of the window and had been relieved to see Crystal arriving with Brad. She’d had enough of this silly party, enough of other people’s problems and enough of the constant carping of the caterers and the band, enough quite frankly of the whole damned thing. And now Reginald didn’t love her anymore and was looking like thunder at her and her silly, silly costume. She’d not even introduced him to her parents yet.

  Reginald bent down to pick up his car keys, intending to head off into the night. He got much the same view that Brad had been granted earlier in the evening, as Crystal walked in front of the car headlights and waited for Brad to switch off the engine and lock up the car.

  In an amazing volte-face, he’d retrieved the fangs from the table and stuffed them into his mouth in two seconds flat, then, in a purely dramatic gesture, he whipped the cloak out from between Olivia’s nerveless, trembling fingers. With a deft flick of the wrist he twirled it around one brisk spin, and landed it over his shoulders in one smooth motion.

  “Come on,” he growled, “I’m here now, regardless of my best intentions to stay well away, so I may as well give this thing a go, I’ll give it my best shot. Just don’t expect too much, Olivia, OK?”

  As Lolly emitted a strangled sob, he continued, “It’s your party Olivia, you’ve arranged this and you’ve brought me here under false pretences, so let’s get on with it shall we, and try to look like you’re enjoying yourself, the startled maiden look really doesn’t go with the Ice Queen sophistication. And do stop looking like a doe in the headlights, I’m really not going to ravage you here, on your parents’ front room floor. Terrified virgins are really not my type.”He stopped and glowered at her, expression brooding, looking like a real live version of ‘The Count’, evil sneer and all.

  “Oh, and another thing, the name is Jazz, Olivia. My name is Jazz. Only my corporate colleagues in London call me Reginald. Here, I’m Jazz, short for Jasper, for your information only, but don’t you dare try calling me that, either.”

  Lolly’s jaw dropped, and she let out a shaky sigh. She’d never seen her Reginald like this before, so cold and calculating, so utterly, utterly, in control. It was quite frightening, really. She wondered what troubles she’d unwittingly unleashed, with her schoolgirl planning, did anyone ever truly know the person that they fell in love with? Little by little, as Jazz stalked from the room and she followed along timidly in his wake, the scales fell from her eyes and she came to the sudden and catastrophic realisation, that he was no more her cool and respectful lover, than she was the sophisticated and elegant debutante that she’d portrayed to him. Crystal had warned her, told her not to jump to conclusions, she’d told her to take things slowly, and how right she had been.

  She gulped inwardly and squared her shoulders, she had the whole of this horrible, horrible night to get through, before she could go quietly to her room and snivel into her handkerchief and she’d do it with pride and grace, because at the end of the day, that was all she had left now. She’d determined her own fate.

  Phil was driving. He was currently at the wheel of the tour car, it was the only thing big enough to get everyone in. He had every intention of staying sober tonight. The evening he had planned with Crystal later, didn’t accommodate drunken fumblings in the back seat of the company car. He’d booked the honeymoon suite at the posh hotel in Bath, the one by the waterfall, right in the centre, and told the night porter to lay on champagne and roses and he and his lady would be in late tonight. He’d engaged a personal limousine, to collect Saskia and Carrie and anyone else that she chose to take back to the pub with her, at considerable personal expense, it had to be said. He’d also arranged for his room in the pub to be loaned out to anyone else that might need it, he wouldn’t step foot over the threshold there tonight.

  He scratched absently at his groin as he negotiated a particularly tricky bend in the road, and grasped a handful of furious pink net and little else. This outfit he was wearing was a little bit strange, but he’d read about the British tradition of pantomime and knew that the dame was always a guy, so he guessed that all of the other partygoers would get the gag too. He hoped so, otherwise he just might look like the biggest prat on the planet, and he really hoped that wasn’t the case. He wondered if it was usual for the dame to go ‘commando’, only it had always tickled his fancy, the thought of going out in a dress, and now he had an unexpected opportunity to put his wildest fantasies into practise. He just hoped that Crystal appreciated the gesture, when he did get her alone tonight.

  In the back of the car, Saskia and Carrie were holding their own conversation. He couldn’t quite catch what they were twittering on about, but every now and then a high pitched squeal of girlish laughter would drift in his direction and he tried not to worry what they were laughing about. He had his own personal fantasy going on, right here in the front, and he didn’t need either of them to spoil it for him now.

  Mark had drawn the short straw. He’d been nominated not only to pick up gran tonight, but to deliver Norma safely to her sister’s in Devizes on the way in. So he and Ruth had needed to leave at five o’clock in the afternoon, just to make the round trip in time to turn up at the venue on time tonight. He’d also had a bit of trouble with the lime green netting that bordered his dress, but Ruth had come up with the perfect solution to the problem and now he wore a pair of red silky ‘long johns’ under his outfit. Like Phil, and countless men before him, he really appreciated the feel of liberation, that his unusual party garb afforded his previously otherwise sheltered upbringing. More men should wear silk, he resolved, as he reaped the rewards of a wife who, quite unexpectedly, showed renewed interest in his personal affairs.

  Ruth had never seen her straight-laced and serious husband quite so animated, ever before. If all it took was a dress and some silk underwear, to relieve the pressures of the boardroom, then she’d surely uncovered the secret to unwavering marital bliss. She made a mental note to visit an online website in the near future, she’d heard that you could buy all kinds of things, discreetly by mail order, these days. One of her girlfriends had purchased some very interesting things from Ann Summers, and her husband had not been in the least offended by the items that had arrived for them in the post. Privately, she couldn’t wait to get Mark home, and into the bedroom tonight.

  Inside the marquee, the vicar looked up from his place at the table. They’d already been shown to their seats by a smartly dressed waiter and he too was enjoying being incognito tonight. He and his wife had made their own costumes, out of recycled paper and some of the things left over from the parish jumble sale the other week. He was very proudly ‘the tin man’ from the Wizard of Oz, com
plete with silver face paint and an oil can full of brandy, which he was discreetly swigging straight out of the nozzle on the end of the can. It was for medicinal purposes only, he told himself, as he took just one more nip. It warded off the cold, and his arthritis had been playing up of late. He was already feeling pleasantly relaxed. He couldn’t remember a time when he’d had quite so much fun.

  His wife was also enjoying herself enormously. Her husband rarely let his hair down and really relaxed, it seemed like his job dogged their every step these days. Even when he arranged a few days off something or other always cropped up, he was never off duty, not really. At least in his costume most people wouldn’t know who he was, and he could have a good time away from the censure and restrictions that went hand in hand with the job. She’d raided the ragbag too, and she was dressed as scarecrow, complete with straw hands, collars and cuffs. It was a bit itchy this straw, she realised. She was beginning to wish that she’d gone with the beige leather gloves and moth-eaten lamb’s wool scarf option now, it might have been just a little more practical, after all.

  Her husband gave her a nudge. “Here comes Crystal, and her young man. Over there, at the door, look. Hetty’s already here, dressed as the fairy godmother, she is. I saw Mark helping her in through the door earlier. He’s one of the ugly sisters and Ruth is Cinderella, so what does that make Crystal then?”

  “She’s Cinderella too, by the looks of it. Before she goes to the ball, I reckon. Who is her young man then? I’m not sure that I recognise him.”

  “No idea. Look, there’s Jeremy and his girlfriend, he’s dressed up as the other ugly sister, his costume is just the same as Mark’s, except his is pink. That must be his young lady friend with him, she’s dressed up as a cat, with furry ears and tail. Can you see?”