Having a Ball

by Rhoda Baxter

  Evelyn sat next to her, cheerfully peeling her way through several hundred cloves of garlic.

  When Tom returned, he was given some root ginger and told to get chopping.

  "As small as you can." Priya smiled and handed him a knife.

  Tom dropped into a seat opposite Stevie and bent over his work.

  As she peeled onion after onion, her attention wandered. Her gaze drifted towards Tom's hands as he peeled and chopped. She couldn't help noticing that his hands gave the occasional tremor, making him pause in his work so that he didn't chop off a finger. Odd.

  She looked up at his face. He was frowning, concentrating on what he was doing, so didn't notice her scrutiny. His eyes looked pinched and had dark shadows under them. His mouth was turned down at the corners. A general aura of unhappiness hung around him. How had she not noticed it before? She had spent the whole car journey trying not to stare at his profile and, admittedly, being rather distracted by his legs. Now that she had paid attention to his face, it was obvious something was wrong.

  She looked round to see if anyone else had noticed. Evelyn was talking about the seminar she had to give later in the week and seemed to be oblivious to any change in her son. Alice was too busy helping Priya to pay much attention to her uncle. So it seemed that only Stevie had noticed. She glanced at his hands again. Yes, there was a definite tremor. Not all the time, but often enough.

  Suddenly Tom's hands stopped moving.

  Stevie looked up to find him staring at her.

  "What?" he whispered.

  "Are you okay?" Stevie whispered back. She glanced at his hands again.

  He clenched them into fists. "Yes thanks."

  "You look tired."

  She must have spoken louder than she intended because Evelyn said. "What's that? Oh, I say, she is right, darling. You look shocking. Are you alright?"

  Tom gave Stevie a glare that said See what you've done now. "Yes, I'm fine. I've just not been sleeping very well lately. That's all."

  "You work too hard, darling. You should ease up a bit. Maybe take a few days off. I mean, when was the last time you had a whole weekend off? Including the Saturday?"

  "Mum--"

  "It's not good for you to work six days a week like that. Not for so long at a stretch anyway. Honestly, if I didn't drag you down here on the odd Sunday, you'd work the whole seven days."

  Evelyn reached for another head of garlic. "I used to have the same problem with your father. Once that man started on something, it was nigh on impossible to get him to take a break."

  Her focus shifted back to the present. "He suffered from terrible headaches you know. They disappeared completely once he retired though, which just goes to show."

  Tom's brow had furrowed even further. He removed his blue gloves and rested his fingers against his temples. "Mum?" When Evelyn didn't appear to hear him, he practically shouted, "Mother?"

  "Yes?" Evelyn raised her head. "There's no need to shout darling, I'm just here."

  "Mum." Tom sighed. "I am taking a few days off. A whole two weeks in fact. Okay?"

  "Oh, you never mentioned." Evelyn turned her attention to her cloves of garlic again. "What are you going to do with all that time? Not go skiing I hope. Not after what happened to poor Olivia. How is she, by the way? Is she back at work?"

  Tom sighed again. "Yes."

  "Terribly dangerous, skiing," Evelyn continued, without looking up from her work. "So, what are you doing in those two weeks?"

  Stevie's gaze swung back to Tom, who looked uncomfortable.

  "Um... Week after next, I've got a couple of things to do in London. Next week, I'm just going to chill out. In the flat."

  Evelyn finally looked up. "In that little flat, for a whole week? You'll go mad with boredom. Tell you what, why don't you come and help us out with the ball. There's an awful lot that needs to be done in the garden. You could get that sorted out faster than any of us could."

  Everyone looked at Tom. He scowled at his pile of ginger.

  "Evelyn, that wouldn't be very relaxing, would it?" Priya spoke mildly. "I know my daughters' idea of relaxing is sitting in front of a Rom com and eating popcorn."

  Alice chuckled in agreement.

  "It'll be a complete change of scene," said Evelyn. "That's what holidays are all about." She gave her son a radiant smile. "What about it Tom? It would be a great help."

  She turned to Stevie. "Wouldn't it, Stevie?"

  Stevie jumped, surprised to be included in the conversation. She felt sorry for Tom. It was clear that he wasn't going to get out of staying and helping with the ball. She was sure he didn't want to. He probably had plans with that Vienna woman. On the other hand, the garden did need a lot of work and it would solve a range of problems if Tom were to sort it out. Besides, thought a small, less professional part of her, it would mean more opportunities to see Tom with his shirt off. She nodded and gave Tom an apologetic smile.

  He glowered at her.

  "Excellent. That's settled then," said Evelyn cheerfully. "You can have one of the upstairs rooms. Best save the good rooms until the night of the ball. We might have a few guests staying overnight."

  She gasped as though struck by an idea. "Come to think of it, Stevie, why don't you stay here too? It's silly to have you bussing to and fro when there are perfectly good rooms you can use here. You can have the old flower room? It's pretty self-contained, so you'll have lots of privacy."

  Stevie felt at a loss for words. It was knackering, catching the bus in every day. Staying over in such a beautiful place would be beyond wonderful. But it seemed a little above her professional role to be accepted as a houseguest. "Oh, I couldn't possibly accept--"

  Evelyn waved her objections away. "Don't be silly. It would be a pleasure. Besides, we'll be paying for all those bus rides, so we may as well save the money. And it'll be so much easier for you to get things done when you can get hold of any of us whenever you want to."

  The small part of her that was wired to her libido pointed out that would mean seeing Tom every day. What a fantastic accompaniment to one's morning Weetabix. She told herself to stop it.

  There was a lot of truth in what Evelyn had said. It would make sense for her to stay. Evelyn was clearly waiting for a response. "If you're sure. That would be lovely. Thank you."

  "That's settled then," said Evelyn. "Tom can give you a lift back to London tonight and bring you back here tomorrow."

  Stevie glanced at Tom, and saw him draw a rebellious breath.

  "Actually," he said, "I've got plans in Oxford for tonight. I'm meeting Vienna for a drink at the Randolph."

  There was a small silence. Stevie's mind filled in the implication that he'd either be leaving Oxford very late, or staying over in Vienna's hotel room.

  "I'm fine on the bus," said Stevie. "Honestly."

  * * * *

  From: Louise Edwards

  To: Stevie Winfield

  How are you getting on with the Blackwood do? Everything under control?

  ##

  From: Stevie Winfield

  To: Louise Edwards

  Fine. Thanks.

  * * * *

  Stevie didn't recognise the number on her phone, but she answered it anyway.

  "Is that Stevie Winfield?" a woman said.

  "Yes. Who am I speaking to?"

  "My name's Sharon of MST publicity. I'm phoning regarding a message you sent to Pete Gosling, about a charity ball."

  Her heart picked up speed. If she could get some sort of celebrity endorsement, even if it was just Pete, without the rest of the band, she could shift some of those tickets that were cluttering up Evelyn's desk. "Yes. How can I help?"

  "I was after more information, really. How high profile is this event?"

  "The charity itself is international, but the profile of the event is fairly select. It caters for the tasteful end of the charity ball circ
uit. The venue is a beautiful stately home in the outskirts of Oxford and the ball will be attended by a high brow mix of Oxford literati." Stevie rattled off the statement that she'd been preparing for just this eventuality. She hoped it sounded competent and not to forced. She also hoped that Evelyn would forgive her for calling the house a stately home, although it certainly would have fit in with the National Trust.

  "Okay." The woman sounded like she was writing it all down.

  "We thought that Pete might find such an event would fit in well with his new image of being a lyrical poet and an altogether more grown up celebrity figure. I know he turned down a stint in I'm a Celebrity because he wasn't that desperate, so this might be just the sort of thing he wants his name associated with it."

  "Right." Another pause. "And what sort of press coverage are you likely to get?"

  "Well, we're in discussions with a number of publications at the moment," Stevie crossed her fingers and hoped she wouldn't be struck down by lightning for lying.

  "So you have no actual press coverage arranged at the moment?" The note of disdain in her voice was unmissable. Stevie sensed the opportunity slipping away.

  "Actually," she said quickly. "We do have at least one press person coming." She took a deep breath. "Cause Celeb."

  "Ah." The quickening of interest was palpable. "Is that a reporter only? Or a photographer as well?"

  "Um... both, I believe."

  "Okay. Thank you for all the information you've given me, I'll have to get back to you."

  "So, is Pete going to be coming then?"

  "Like I said, we'll get back to you. Thanks. Bye." The woman hung up.

  Stevie disconnected the call and stared at the phone. She hadn't even tried phoning any magazines and press, apart from the local ones. Oh dear.

  Picking up her notebook she flicked through until she found the number of Cause Celeb. Marsh would kill her if she contacted them. But in her panic, she'd just told Pete's publicist that they would be there. Sighing, she dialled the number.

  "Cause Celeb."

  "Hi, I'm phoning to tell you about a charity ball in Ox--"

  "I'm afraid we're mostly interested in celebrity sightings and events that involve celebrities..."

  "Yes, that's why I'm phoning. Pete Gosling is going to be coming. He endorses the charity and the work they do."

  "Pete Gosling? From Triphoppers?"

  "Yes. That's him."

  "Is Ashby going to be there?"

  "At the moment, it's just Pete, but you never know, Ashby might come round to it."

  "Can you give me dates and times and I'll see what we can do," said the girl.

  Stevie gave her the information.

  Phew. That had been easier than she'd thought. Now she just needed the Triphopper's publicist to agree to send Pete along and she'd be well away.

  * * * *

  From:

  To:

  Hi Jane

  How are you? Still enjoying married life?

  Things remain much the same for me. Life has got a little less rock and roll for the moment, but there's a comeback tour being planned, so I guess things will hot up soon. In the meantime, I've been doing more songwriting. I've even got one of my songs coming out soon, sung by last year's X-Factor winner. Not so glam being the writer behind the song, but the money's welcome!

  Are you going to this charity ball that your sister in law is organising? My PR department are thinking of getting me tickets. They're trying to persuade Ashby to go, but I doubt he will.

  Apparently, Cause Celeb are covering it, so it would be a good photo op. They were under the impression that you would be there. It would be nice to see you, if you are going. Of course, it will be nice to see Stevie too. She was quite an interesting girl from what I remember from your wedding.

  Give my best to Marsh. See you soon, hopefully.

  Pete

  ##

  From:

  To:

  Hi Pete

  It's great to hear from you.

  No, we won't be going to the ball that Stevie's organising. I'm sorry to hear she's been badgering your press office. I hope it doesn't inconvenience you terribly.

  You should come for dinner one night. We can catch up properly then.

  Love

  Jane

  Chapter 9

  Ever since her drive up to Oxford in his car, Stevie's feelings toward Tom had been oscillating. On the one hand, he was arrogant and treated her like she was young and incompetent. On the other hand, once he let his guard down, he could be quite nice. He was undeniably handsome in a way that made her stomach tingle every time she saw him.

  She had felt that way about men before. They had all ended up being unsuitable for her. Her last serious boyfriend, Buzz, had been the sexiest man in the world, but he turned out to be a money-grabbing ratfink. Since then, she'd had a string of hot, but not serious boyfriends, which worked out fine, so long as neither party wanted more. The trouble was, now that she was out of the university environment and trying to be a grown up, the idea of a fling no longer held as much appeal.

  She was standing by her bed, with a bag open in front of her, trying to pack for a week away in Oxford. It was difficult knowing what to pack. She was there to work, so comfortable old clothes were a good idea.

  Stevie sighed again and scanned the flat. Even though the summer sun was starting to fade, the building was still warm. If the weather continued to be this good for the ball, it would be lovely.

  She chucked a few light blouses in on top of her jeans. It could get quite hot if she ended up helping in the garden. Or even the kitchen. And she looked good in them. Of course, she wasn't interested seriously interested in Tom. But it didn't hurt to look nice. It could do wonders for her self-confidence.

  She was carefully folding her gown, bought in the days when her trust fund had been worth something, when someone thundered on the door.

  "I wonder who that could be," she said to the postcard of Indiana Jones, and went to the door. Through the spy hole she could see Marsh. Scowling.

  "Marsh." She opened the door. She hadn't seen him since she made him give his keys back.

  Marsh strode in and swung round to face her. "What are you playing at Stevie? Are you deliberately trying to upset Jane?"

  "Nice to see you too, Marsh." Stevie shut the door. "What are you talking about?"

  "Cause Celeb." Marsh folded his arms and glared at her. Challenging her to deny it. "You contacted Cause Celeb."

  Stevie tried to keep her face from looking guilty. "It's only stuff to do with the ball. Nothing to do with Jane."

  "Really? Pete emailed her and told her that you mentioned her name in order to get your email past the front door."

  "Well, yes. She didn't give me Pete's email, so I thought I'd use my initiative."

  "You know how much Jane hates being involved in the press. She's very fragile at the moment. Imagine if they came after her again. She's feeling delicate and ill and not sleeping. Imagine what it could do to her?"

  Despite having had similar thoughts herself, Stevie wasn't going to admit that sort of thing to her brother. Especially if he didn't feel he could tell her about her future niece or nephew until after he'd told their friends. "Oh yeah? What makes you think she'll have any trouble? It's years since she went out with Ashby. She's happily married now and pregnant. Do you really think the press will be the slightest bit interested in her? Get real!"

  Marsh's lips parted, but no sound came out. He stared at her as though too stunned to speak. Stevie closed her eyes and stifled a groan. Marsh adored his wife. She had managed to make it sound as though she was accusing Jane of being unattractive and uninteresting. She opened her eyes again to find Marsh turning to leave. She grabbed his arm.

  "I'm sorry," she said. "I didn't mean that. I meant... I meant that Jane's been out of the limelight for a few years now. T
he press won't be interested. They didn't even cover your wedding. I honestly think she's safe now."

  Marsh didn't turn round. "And what if you're wrong."

  "Then I did a terrible thing and I totally deserve it if you never speak to me again."

  He sniffed, part disbelieving, part amused. "You never cease to amaze me." He turned to face her. "You just do stuff without thinking."

  Stevie relaxed, relieved to be on familiar ground. "And you think about everything, but don't do very much."

  "Yes, well it works for me."

  They stood in silence for a minute as the argument simmered down inside.

  "So, how's the ball organising going?" Marsh straightened his sleeve, avoiding eye contract. They had argued enough over the years for Stevie to know that this was a peace offering. He was trying to make small talk while he calmed down. Eventually they would part and tomorrow they'd both feel sorry and peace would return. All she had to do was keep up the conversation and not needle him and everything would be okay.

  "It's going okay, actually. It's hard work though."

  Stevie wondered if he knew whom she was working for. Given his interaction with Tom in the past, it was probably best to steer clear of that topic too.

  "There's only a week to go. I'm going to stay over there for the next few days, so that I don't have to keep bussing it up from London every day. Evelyn wants to open the place up as a B&B, so they've got plenty of rooms available." She pointed to the bag that had clothes poking out of it. "I'm in the middle of packing."

  "That's a good idea. It means you'll be a lot less tired too. Do you want me to give you a lift up there?"

  "Oh, no need," said Stevie. "Tom's picking me up in a bit." Immediately as she said it, she knew she'd slipped up. She bit her lip and hoped Marsh wouldn't pick up on it.

  But her brother knew her better than she'd realised. Her slight hesitation gave her away. He raised an eyebrow. "Tom?" he said. A small smile appeared. "Tell me about this Tom."

  "Oh, he's not important," she said, in what she hoped was a nonchalant tone. "He's Evelyn's son. He works in the city and is giving me a lift in his car, which now smells of curry since he took the ingredients for the food up to Oxford."