Alice giggled and then hiccupped loudly as Mr Bennet appeared at her side.
‘I think you and I should be making tracks,’ he remarked, taking his wife’s arm and looking apologetically over his shoulder at a group of astounded guests.
‘Dad?’
‘Later, Lizzie,’ her father replied. ‘I think getting your mother home and into a horizontal position is the most important thing right now.’
Lizzie supposed she should be grateful that her mother’s inebriation had diverted her father’s attention away from the fact that Lydia was nowhere to be seen. But watching her parents make their way across the garden, with the eyes of several guests firmly fixed on her mother’s tottering progress, Lizzie had an overwhelming desire to curl up and die.
‘Why on earth did you cover up for Lydia?’ she muttered to Jane, as they followed the others to the front of the house. Now Katie’ll want to hang out with us.’
‘She won’t,’ Jane said, gesturing towards the front gate. ‘She’s just been sick. In the flower bed.’
‘Oh no,’ Lizzie groaned. ‘What is it with this family?’
‘Don’t worry, no one’s noticed – well, not yet,’ Jane smiled. ‘I’ll go and sort her – tell her to go home.’
‘Which we could do too? You’re not really up for clubbing, are you?’
‘It might be fun,’ Jane said, avoiding Lizzie’s gaze. ‘I mean, you’re always telling me to get a life and forget – well, the past. And anyway, we ought to make sure Lyddy’s OK, right? But I’m only going if you’ll come.’
Jane’s eyes darted from her sister to Charlie and back again.
‘Please.’ ‘OK,’ Lizzie smiled. ‘Since you insist. But not for long. This lot get right up my nose.’
CHAPTER 4
‘My good opinion once lost is lost forever.’
(Jane Austen, Pride and Prejudice)
SET IN ONE OF THE TOWN’S NOW DEFUNCT SHOE factories, Clickers was Meryton’s newest and classiest night spot, although as James remarked dryly, given the standard set by the rest of the clubs, that was hardly a glowing recommendation. The instant they arrived, he ambled over to the bar looking, if anything, more uptight than ever.
As soon as her eyes had adjusted to the dim light, Lizzie scanned the room in search of Lydia.
‘Hey, come and dance!’ Charlie appeared and seized Jane’s hand. ‘I’ve told James to get the drinks in, but there’s a hell of a queue – so come on!’ And with that, he dragged her off towards the spiral staircase that led to the mezzanine floor.
‘This place is so cool,’ Emily enthused, bopping rather unrhythmically to the music. ‘Hey, do you think that guy over there is on his own? As in available?’
She jerked her head in the direction of a long-haired, lanky guy in torn jeans, who was leaning against the bar and staring disconsolately into a pint of lager.
‘Emily, he’s disgusting.’ Lizzie pulled a face. ‘He looks like he hasn’t washed in a week. What are you on?’
Emily shrugged. ‘He’s male, he’s on his own and if he can avoid the entry fee to this place, he’s got cash,’ she replied. ‘And besides, I quite go for the grunge look.’
‘Well, you can do better than him,’ Lizzie assured her, pushing past more dancers and heading for a group of girls giggling in the far corner of the club.
‘That’s easy for you to say, since your love life is totally sorted,’ her friend snapped. ‘You’ve got it made – looks, brain, figure. People like me can’t afford to be fussy.’
‘Oh, don’t start the whole self-pity routine again, Emily, for God’s sake,’ Lizzie snapped. ‘If you made a bit more effort to . . .’
‘To what? Go on, say it – to be more like you, right?’ To Lizzie’s horror, Emily burst into tears.
‘Em, I’m sorry, honestly, I didn’t mean that, no way.’ She touched her friend’s arm, feeling a complete idiot for being so thoughtless.
‘I’m just in a mood – what you said – well, the point is, Toby and me – we’ve split. So you see, I’m not sorted. Well, I am but . . .’ Emily stopped mid sob. ‘Split? You and Toby? I don’t believe it.’ She stared at Lizzie in amazement. ‘How dare he dump you? I would never have thought that of him.’
‘Emily, I dumped him,’ Lizzie confessed.
‘Are you totally mad? So – have you found someone else?’
‘Get real,’ Lizzie retorted. ‘Right now, I want another relationship like I want a hole in the head.’
‘So – Toby’s, like, available?’ Emily brightened visibly.
‘I guess he is,’ Lizzie said smiling.
‘Great,’ Emily replied. ‘I’ll invite him.’
‘To what?’
‘My eighteenth, silly,’ Emily said. ‘You put it in your diary.’
‘Oh. Yes. But —’
‘It’s OK for you,’ Emily cut in quickly. ‘You’ll have loads of guys fawning after you. And it is my party and I’m short on available guys and if Toby comes I could . . .’
‘Sure. Great idea,’ Lizzie said, knowing full well that by the day of the party, Toby would be sailing in Greece, but judging it best to say nothing. ‘Now can we please drop the subject and find my sister?’
‘You look for her,’ Emily said. ‘I need the loo. Oh, and text me Toby’s phone number, yeah?’
‘Emily Lucas, you are something else.’ Lizzie turned and headed up the spiral staircase. She spotted Amber, skirt hitched up round her thighs as she perched on the knee of a boy with wildly curly black hair and a glazed expression; and at the other end of the room, surrounded by a group of admiring guys, she found her sister, dancing to the beat of a live band with all the flair of a finalist on Strictly Come Dancing. Watching her as she punched the air, wiggled her hips and pouted seductively at one guy after another, Lizzie was torn between envy of her confidence and sheer joy in life, and alarm at the signals she was sending out. Looking the way she did, it was no wonder that the bouncers hadn’t challenged her for ID on the way in.
‘Lydia!’
Her sister caught sight of her, grinned and sashayed across, dragging Denny and another guy with her.
‘Hiya,’ she said cheerfully. ‘So you came. Isn’t this the coolest place? This is Zak, by the way. Who’s here? Jane? That Charlie guy?’
‘You are so going to be in trouble when you get home,’ Lizzie said, ignoring her question. ‘Dad’ll go ballistic.’
‘Sure he will,’ Lydia said laughing. ‘But he won’t do anything. Well, he might ground me.’
She turned to Denny and giggled. ‘But that’s never stopped me yet. And anyway, I’ve had my fun – they can’t take that away from me, can they?’ With that, she seized Denny’s hand. ‘Come on, buy me a drink – I’m gasping!’
Watching them clatter down the staircase, followed by the rest of the crowd, Lizzie felt a fool. She was nearly eighteen, for heaven’s sake – she should be partying, not worrying about her sister who was, after all, more than capable of looking after herself.
She ran back down the stairs, catching the strains of her favourite Purple Panic hit being played during the band break. As she reached the bottom and the music died away, she heard her name.
‘Me? With Lizzie Bennet? For God’s sake, Charlie, you have to be joking!’ The clipped tones were unmistakably James’s.
Lizzie took two steps back as softly as she could, sat down on the stairs and strained to catch what they were saying.
‘What’s wrong with her?’ Charlie asked. ‘OK, she’s not as stunning as Jane – Jane’s totally gorgeous but . . .’
‘Charlie, you think any girl who so much as smiles at you is gorgeous,’ James remarked. ‘OK, I agree Jane’s pretty in a twee, Disney princess kind of way. But Lizzie? Why would I want to spend time with her?’
‘I want to take Jane on somewhere, and you know, get to know her a bit better,’ Lizzie heard Charlie say slightly self-consciously. ‘And we can hardly dump Lizzie.’
‘Like that’s my problem?’
James said. ‘Come off it, Charlie – I told you I’ve come here to chill out – it’s been a bloody awful year.’
‘Exactly! But you have to move on, get a life.’
‘And I’m going to do that by spending my time with some lippy schoolgirl with an inflated opinion of herself – not to mention the mother from hell.’
‘I’m not asking you to entertain the mother, am I?’ Charlie retaliated. ‘And anyway, if anyone was lippy, it was you. The way you went on about state schools, you sounded a right snob.’
‘It was Lizzie who went off on one about how bloody marvellous that academy place was,’ James said. ‘Like I hardly think so. And God, that sister of theirs! Slag of the Century or what?’
‘You know what? I’m tired of the way you’re always finding fault with everything and everyone.’
‘I just happen to live in the real world and see things as they are,’ James retorted. ‘It’s called being an adult.’
Charlie sighed and shook his head. ‘It’s called looking on the black side of everything,’ he muttered, ‘but suit yourself – I’m going to ask Jane anyway and if Lizzie —’
At that moment, as Lizzie was forced to shift her position to let a couple of girls edge past her, Charlie caught her eye. ‘Lizzie!’ His cheeks flamed scarlet and he looked as if he wanted the ground to open and swallow him whole. For a moment, as she leaped to her feet, Lizzie felt sorry for him, but then, as James turned to face her, the sneer still on his lips, she decided that if Charlie was stupid enough to associate with a stuck-up guy like James, that was his problem. ‘Jane’s just gone to the loo and then we’re . . . oh! Here she comes.’
The relief on his face was palpable.
‘Lizzie, what’s up?’ Jane had always been able to sense when her sister was angry or upset without the need for words.
‘I’m leaving,’ Lizzie said.
‘Leaving?’ Charlie burst out. ‘But there’s no need . . . I mean, perhaps we could go for a pizza?’
‘Oh, please!’ Lizzie snapped. ‘I would hate to inflict myself on your friend.’
She glared at James. ‘Just think how mortified he’d be to have to pass another hour in the company of a lippy state-school kid!’
She pushed past them towards a corner table where Amber and Lydia were shrieking with laughter and twirling paper cocktail umbrellas over Tim and Denny’s heads.
‘Two choices,’ Lizzie snapped at her. ‘Come home now and I try to cover for you, or stay here and face the music on your own!’
‘God, what’s with the grumpy big sister routine?’ Amber sniggered. ‘You were right, Lyds, she so, like, needs to get a life!’
‘Lydia, for the last time,’ Lizzie began, but before she could finish, Jane was at her side.
‘What’s going on? Don’t go – Charlie says —’
‘I don’t care what Charlie says,’ Lizzie retorted, dragging her to one side. Then, catching the pained expression on Jane’s face, she flashed her a wry smile. ‘He’s nice – he really is – but his choice of friends . . . do you know what James called me?’
‘What?’
‘He said . . . Oh, never mind. I’ll tell you later. Look, I don’t want to spoil your evening. I can get a cab.’
In all honesty, Lizzie was feeling a bit of an idiot. Why hadn’t she just ignored James, or better still, challenged him to his face, there and then? Made him realise what a rude, swollen-headed idiot he was? Why hadn’t she . . .?
‘Charlie says that if you just hang on a bit longer, he’ll take us all home.’ Jane touched her shoulder and eyed her anxiously. ‘Lydia too, OK?’
‘And James? I have to share the car with him?’
‘Lizzie!’
‘OK, OK,’ Lizzie held up her hands in surrender. ‘But just don’t expect me to speak, all right? If I never say another word to that guy as long as I live, it’ll be too soon.’
‘Well, yes, I agree, that was a pretty awful thing to say,’ Jane conceded, after Lizzie had plonked herself down on her sister’s bed two hours later and ranted on unceasingly for ten minutes. ‘But honestly, don’t judge him too harshly. Charlie mentioned to me that James has had a really tough couple of years.’
‘Oh right, so he thinks it’s OK to inflict his misery on the rest of us,’ Lizzie replied. ‘And slag us all off.’
‘Well, you have to admit . . .’
‘I know, I know,’ Lizzie sighed. ‘Mum made an ass of herself and Lydia was, well, Lydia. But no way am I lippy. I just think for myself. And unlike James I-am-up-myself Darcy, I don’t build my whole life on outmoded, upper-class prejudices!’
Jane laughed. ‘Why don’t you just forget it and go to bed?’ she suggested. ‘If it bothers you that much, don’t give it the air time.’
‘Too right,’ Lizzie nodded. ‘I’m sure he’s not losing sleep over his bad manners, so why should I? Besides, I can see you want to be left to dream sweet dreams about Charlie.’
Laughing, she dodged the pillow that her sister hurled at her, and went to bed.
Had she been able to overhear the conversation taking place at that moment in the kitchen at Netherfield, where Caroline, James and Charlie were clearing up the leftovers from the outsize fridge, she might not have slept so easily.
‘You do realise,’ Charlie was saying, glaring at James, ‘that the only reason the evening got cut short was because Lizzie heard your outburst? So thanks – thanks a million.’
‘Look, all I’m saying is that the Bennets simply aren’t our type. It’s obvious; they’re clearly new money, they have no class and can you imagine them mixing with our set? I don’t think so.’
‘Absolutely,’ Caroline cut in, scooping salmon pâté on to a cracker. ‘I mean, Jane is quite sweet, I guess, but Lizzie . . . Charlie, how could you even think she was the type James would go for?’
‘I’m not asking him to have a relationship with her, for God’s sake – just to be civil. I think the Bennets are an OK crowd and just because they haven’t had the privileges we’ve had, doesn’t make them inferior.’
‘You’ve been with Jane for five hours max,’ James reasoned. ‘You’re always doing this – you meet a girl and your brain ceases to function.’
‘Come off it.’
‘OK, how about a bet, then?’ James said, a grin on his face. ‘Let’s say I was wrong. I admit, maybe, I should have kept my thoughts to myself, but I’m not like that.’
‘You can say that again,’ Charlie muttered.
‘So, I’ll shut up for – oh, let’s say the next three weeks, till I leave, right? I bet you a hundred pounds that by then, you’ll have seen sense and dropped Jane like a dish of hot cakes, just like you did with Claudia and Pandora.’
‘Claudia cheated on me, and Pandora turned out to be gay,’ Charlie retorted.
‘OK, then, you’re on. You stop being so mouthy and bolshie with the Bennets and if you’re right, and Jane isn’t what she seems, I’ll pay up. Deal?’
‘Deal!’ James smacked palms with Charlie. ‘I do so love easy money.’
For Meredith and the twins there was another full week of the summer term left. Lizzie was tied up, not only with helping out at school, but with rehearsals for a wind band concert with the East Midlands Youth Orchestra and her Grade 8 singing exam. But for Jane, at the end of her first year at London University, the summer vacation had already started. Which was why, finding her sister already chomping her way through a bowl of muesli at half past seven on Monday morning, Lizzie was somewhat startled.
‘What are you doing up?’ she asked, as she polished her French horn. ‘On Friday, you said you wanted long lazy lie-ins all week.’
‘Yes, well, that was then,’ Jane murmured, avoiding Lizzie’s gaze. ‘Thing is, I got a text from Caroline last night. She’s invited me over to ride. And Charlie . . .’
She paused, giving Lizzie a sidelong glance.
‘Well, he might be around,’ she finished, colouring slightly. ‘He’s really nice, don’t you think? So
rt of sensible and yet . . .’
‘Nice, definitely. Sensible? I don’t think so,’ her sister replied. ‘At least not when it comes to his choice of friends. That arrogant sod James.’
‘Oh, Lizzie, you’re not still going on about him, surely,’ Jane teased. ‘You’re always like this – talk about a dog with a bone! Anyway, if Charlie likes him, he can’t be that bad.’
‘Janey, I know that you love the entire universe and would make excuses for Osama bin Laden if it came to it, but that guy!’
Lizzie opened the fridge and grabbed a pot of yoghurt. ‘Anyway, don’t let’s waste our breath on James Darcy. What about you and Charlie? I mean . . .’
‘Don’t start getting ideas,’ Jane said laughing. ‘He’s just a nice guy who happens to have a sister with horses. Thank goodness I didn’t chuck out my jodhpurs – they’re a bit on the tight side, but they’ll do.’ She glanced at the kitchen clock. ‘I’d better get going,’ she said. ‘Caroline said I needed to be there for eight. Don’t you think it’s great of her to ask me?’
‘Mmm.’
‘What do you mean, mmm?’ Jane demanded, putting her cereal bowl into the dishwasher and taking a last gulp of juice.
‘Oh, nothing,’ Lizzie sighed. ‘It’s just that – well, she’s ever so stuck-up, don’t you think? You know, public school and all that. Don’t you find it a bit – I don’t know – over the top?’
‘No, I don’t,’ Jane said. ‘If anyone was over the top, it was Mum. And Lydia.’
‘Don’t remind me,’ Lizzie groaned. ‘You’d have thought Mum would lie low after making such a fool of herself at the party, but the way she carried on at church yesterday . . .’
‘I guess she’s so used to being in the midst of things at St Peter’s that she wanted to make her mark at this new place,’ Jane reasoned. ‘And be fair – she was only singing your praises as a soprano and trying to whip up support for this phone mast campaign.’
She ran a finger gingerly round the tight waistband of her jodhpurs and undid the top button. ‘What’s more, over coffee she came up with the idea that they should focus the campaign on how close the mast will be to the primary school,’ Jane added. ‘Which for her was pretty spot on.’
Love, Lies and Lizzie Page 5
