Katy Carter Keeps a Secret (27 page)

“But that’s what I’m here for, you muppet! I never want you to feel you have to protect me from things. We’re a team, aren’t we?”

“Yes. Of course we are,” I agree – because we always were, even back in the long-ago days when we were just colleagues bonding over our experiences with horrible bottom-set classes and disputes over who’d stolen the milk from the staffroom fridge. I’d always told Ollie everything back then and I suddenly realise how daft it is that now we’re even closer I’ve been keeping things back.

“So if we’re a team then we share things, good and bad. Right?” he asks.

“Right,” I nod, and then I wait for him to tell me the real reason he raided the savings account and why he never told me he was meeting Carolyn that Saturday. But Ollie says nothing; he just kisses the top of my head and ruffles my curls, leaving me none the wiser about whatever’s really going on.

Oh.

OK then. Just no more secrets on my side but he can keep his?

I bite back the questions queuing up on my lips. I can’t ask them now, because Ann is saying sorry to me, Geoff’s ordering more wine and Mum’s swinging a crystal over Nicky and predicting his A-level grades (which, believe me, is something I can do without the help of the spirit world). Besides, I’m just making a fuss about nothing, aren’t I?

The trouble is, I can’t ignore the nagging unease deep in the pit of my stomach, and until I know for sure what Ollie’s up to I don’t think I’ll have much peace. I know I should trust him, and I do. Most of the time. It’s just that I have the strongest feeling he’s still keeping something from me.

As Geoff pours me a big glass of wine and Ann apologises yet again for interfering in our business, I do my best to reassure her I’m not upset at all, that everything’s fine and that my days of writing erotic novels are well and truly over. That isn’t strictly true, of course, but I’m looking to find a way around all this – and I’m sure a solution will come to me at some point. At least I flipping well hope it will.

Otherwise I really will be in trouble.

Chapter 22

I have to talk to you right now! It’s urgent! DO NOT IGNORE THIS TEXT!

When it comes to having a crisis, Maddy Lomax doesn’t half pick her moments!  This really isn’t the best time, as I’m currently waiting in a darkened room with an assortment of Ann’s relatives and oldest friends – all carefully selected by me and Maddy during the party-planning stages – and poised to cry “Surprise!” as soon as the birthday girl arrives. The balloons are all blown up, the banners are strung across the private dining room and even the weather has decided to play ball by allowing the sun to come out. Any minute now Ollie and his parents will arrive for what they think will be a quiet afternoon tea.

They couldn’t be more wrong!

I’m so excited I can hardly wait! This is going to be a brilliant party! I’ve done my research into Ann’s nearest and dearest and I’ve even managed to get hold of her pastor (fingers crossed he doesn’t twig who I am) and a couple of very old relatives. I hope they manage to stay alive until Ann gets here. All the guests are staying at the hotel, courtesy of the dregs of my Throb advance, and judging by the bar bill they’ve been having a high old time. Isara Lovett will need another few outings just to settle that gin-and-tonic fuelled monster, never mind pay for Great Uncle Clifford’s
accidental
watching of Playboy TV and absent-minded ordering of smoked salmon platters from room service at gone midnight. He might claim not to remember any of this and blame old age, but I’m not fooled. There was a knowing glint in his eye, and when I went to fetch him earlier he was scrolling happily through the pay-per-view screen like a pro. He’s only just had a pacemaker fitted and I hope it’s up to the job. At this rate I’m going to need one myself.

Lord. The sooner this weekend’s over the better.

Still, picking up the tab for Ann’s birthday is what I promised myself I’d do, and after the trauma of yesterday’s revelation it feels even more important to show the Burrows family that I’m a nice person and not a total deviant. Although Ann has apologised for her shocked outburst yesterday, she’s been eyeing me rather nervously ever since – and when I went to hang the washing out this morning she blanched at the mere sight of the peg bag. After this afternoon I’m hoping she’ll see me in a whole new light, and by that I mean a flattering light rather than a red one. Maybe she’ll begin to look on me as a suitable daughter-in-law.

It’ll also show Ollie that I’m always thinking of him, even when it might not seem like it. At the moment he’s a bit put out that I’ve made excuses for not being at afternoon tea. I know we promised each other that we’d have no more secrets between us – but surely a surprise party for his mum doesn’t count? A surprise party has to be a secret, doesn’t it? Otherwise it would just be a party. Anyway, when Ollie sees the look on Ann’s face, he’s going to be absolutely made up and he won’t mind at all that I never told him what I was planning. Then he’ll give his mum the necklace, I’ll know that it really was for her all along, and everything will be fine.

Yes. That’s exactly what’s going to happen.

Everyone here is briefed and waiting excitedly for Ann to arrive. Even Great Uncle Clifford’s managed to tear himself away from the satellite telly to join in with the surprise. The pastor has agreed to say grace once the food arrives and the hotel manager reassured me earlier that the caterers had arrived and would be getting ready in the cloakroom. I must admit that sounds a little bit odd, but I suppose they’re putting on their pinnies and bow ties before they serve the food. And washing their hands or something? Of course, that must be it. Anyway, the food certainly smells good and my mouth’s watering already from the delicious aromas wafting from the room next door where the buffet’s been set up. For a woman who never eats, Tansy certainly knows what she’s on about. No wonder she’s booked solid.

Ding! Ding!

My phone again. Honestly! Mads should know better than to try to contact me now. She
knows
I’m lying low and can’t talk. I’ll have to put my phone onto silent or else she’ll give the entire game away and ruin everything!

Ding! Ding!

Right. OK.

Ding! Ding!

OK, Maddy! I give in!

I’ll check it.

DON’T IGNORE ME! STOP EVERYTHING! NOW!

Has nobody ever told Maddy that texting in capitals is considered aggressive? And anyway, what on earth does she mean, telling me to stop everything right now? Our plan’s going perfectly and it’s almost at completion. I’m not going to back out now. Why would I even want to?

Ding! Ding!

CALL ME! RED ALERT! ABORT MISSION! ABORT!

Mads really needs to kick her closet sci-fi addiction. She’ll be asking me to beam up in a second. And what’s all this “abort mission” gubbins? I’m in South East Cornwall, not outer space!

She does sound pretty frantic though. Maybe I ought to give her a call. Perhaps Rafferty’s stuffed another marble up his nose? Or Bluebell’s high as a kite on forgetful sweets? Or, and this really would be a cause for alarm, Richard’s found the hidden stash of wine bottles from Maddy’s very unsuccessful Lent? My stomach lurches at this idea, because I’m bound to get the blame for leading her astray.

“Ooo! They’re here!” cries Ollie’s godmother, who insists on peeking around the edge of the drapes every five seconds. She thinks nobody can see her, but she’s as wrong as anyone in a bright scarlet dress and orange feathered hat could ever be. She may as well be wearing a sign saying
Ann Burrow’s surprise party is in here!
I’ve tugged her away so many times already that I think I’ve got RSI.

“Get back from the window, you silly old fool!” says Great Uncle Clifford, bundling her behind the curtains. “They’re here! They’re here! Shh!”

At this point everyone starts shushing one another, except that they’re mostly octogenarians and their idea of shushing sounds like a 747 taking off. I’m so busy trying to keep them quiet that I don’t have any time to reply to Maddy’s texts or to even look at my phone again.

We hear the murmur of voices as Ollie and his parents pass by the window and head towards the reception. I’m so excited I think I’m going to pop. Any minute now Ann is going to have the surprise of her life! The hotel manager’s primed to lead them from the lobby through to this room, under the guise of escorting them to afternoon tea. As soon as they open the door we’re all going to shout “surprise!” and fire party poppers and wave balloons. Then the caterers will come in from the far end of the room with a big cake and champagne while
Happy Birthday to You
plays – after which the party will really get started.

It’s going to be brilliant!

Whatever it is that Mads is stressing about will have to wait.

Footsteps are drawing closer to our hiding place and everyone holds their breath. It’s so quiet now that I can practically hear Great Uncle Clifford’s pacemaker tick.

“And the view from the blue drawing room has to be one of the finest,” we hear the hotel manager telling the unsuspecting Burrows family. “You can see almost to Lizard Point.”

“It sounds perfect,” Ann is replying. “Afternoon tea with a sea view. I can’t think of anything better.”

No, but luckily for her, I could. Come on! Open the door! I’m going to burst!

Then the handle turns, the door opens and up we all jump, shouting “Surprise!” and “Happy Birthday!” while the lights turn on, party poppers explode like gunfire and everyone starts singing. My phone’s ringing now, Mads again probably, but I’m far too busy joining in the general excitement to answer it.

Ann’s hand flies to her mouth as she gazes around in astonishment at all her nearest and dearest. “What on earth’s this? How come all of you are here?”

Before I have a chance to answer, Great Uncle Clifford toots loudly on a party blower and then coughs so violently that the next few seconds are spent slapping him on the back and panicking that he’s about to expire.

“It’s your birthday party!” he gasps eventually. “It’s a surprise!”

“Surprise!” echo the others, dutifully blowing their party trumpets and waving their balloons before stampeding towards Ann, who promptly vanishes into a tangle of hugs, walking frames and streamers.

Ah. Isn’t this brilliant? All her favourite people are gathered here and she must feel so loved. Job done, I’d say. Maybe I ought to give up writing and take up party planning instead? I bet I’d be really good at it! I could do all sorts of themes and learn to make amazing cakes and everyone would book me and maybe I could even get to go on
Bake Off
and meet Mary Berry and everything…

“Katy?” Ollie’s voice breaks into a wonderful daydream where Paul Hollywood is gazing into my eyes and telling me that my vanilla sponge is the most delicious thing he’s ever tasted. Taking my hand, Ollie draws me away from the others. “Did you organise all this for Mum?”

“I had a bit of help from Mads,” I say modestly and I glance down at my phone. Goodness, four missed calls now. She must really want to talk to me. I’ll ring her back as soon as the cake’s arrived.

Ollie shakes his head in disbelief. “You’ve managed to find Mum’s relatives and some of her oldest friends and a few church people, get them to Cornwall, arrange a party and keep it a secret?”

Put like that it does sound like some feat and I’m quite impressed myself.

“I couldn’t have done it without Maddy. She made the arrangements while I was away.”

“But it must have cost a fortune,” Ollie says, looking around the room. “There are at least fifteen people here and you’ve paid for them all? You did all this for my mum?”

I shake my head. “No. I did it for you, Ol. I felt awful about just how much money I cost us with the rewiring and the floor, and I knew how much you’d wanted to do something special for Ann’s birthday. Then I had the advance from Throb
and I realised that there was something good I could do with it. It seemed like a way of making up for all the trouble.”

“You’ve paid for Mum’s party with money from
Kitchen of Correction
? All these good upright citizens are partying thanks to cabbages and clothes pegs and kinky sex?”

Ann’s pastor and his wife wave at us and we wave back.

“Oops,” I say, and Ollie laughs.

“You are crackers, Katy,” he says, putting his arms around me and kissing the tip of my nose. “You don’t ever need to make up for things. That isn’t how it works. And anyway, the floor and the wiring were accidents. You weren’t to blame.”

It’s kind of Ollie to say this but it’s hard to see how my pulling up the floor can be construed as an accident. I mean, it wasn’t as though I accidentally grabbed the poker and inadvertently prised up the floorboards, is it? And who plugged in the lava lamp? And went snooping around St Jude’s in disguise? I actually think it’s just as well he doesn’t know quite how much making up I do have to do.

“I’m sorry I kept this party a secret,” I say, “especially after what we talked about yesterday. But I kind of had to really, otherwise it wouldn’t have been much of a surprise, would it?”

He laughs. “I guess not.”

“And you were surprised, weren’t you?”

“Not a day passes when you don’t surprise me,” Ollie replies with feeling.

Hmm, I’m not totally convinced that’s a good thing. He might be smiling now but I’ve seen how stressed he’s been lately.

“I know I don’t always make life easy for you,” I say, “but I always try to do my best.”

“I’ll make sure I remember that the next time,” Ollie tells me.

“O ye of little faith,” I tease, going onto tiptoes and kissing him.

Anyway, secret or not, this party’s turning out to be a huge success. Ann is beaming from ear to ear while she chats to her guests, the old folk are having a lovely time and even Geoff’s having fun without the help of a fine Merlot. There are just two things missing: Nicky and birthday cake. But they’ll both be arriving together, of course. Just wait until Ann sees Nicky in his working capacity. She’s going to be so surprised! And she’ll love the cake. I chose it especially.