The Party Girl's Invitation (14 page)

He’d thought it all through, and he’d come up with some very persuasive arguments, and as the piece de resistance, the brand new Alfa had been specially purchased in Crystal’s name. It was to be a reflection of his dedication to her, a token of his love.

His eyes skimmed the snowy landscape and his attention fixed on the Land Rover, parked up outside the cottage. Her brother might prove tricky though, he’d not sensed any kindred spirit there last night, not until he’d mentioned the secretary, that was. He felt they’d parted under improved terms, but he might still need a bit of work.

There was no way he was going to let anyone scupper his plans now. He’d been going quietly out of his mind when Crystal had disappeared off like that, he’d not known how to find her, every avenue had drawn a blank. It was Saskia, who had come up trumps on that score, and set the press pack on the ice cold trail. The publicity in America had increased ticket sales ten-fold, and they were hoping for the same kind of numbers here, if they could just keep the drama going in the British press for a little while longer. They would have to time it just right, when they announced the hiding place of ‘Miss X’, as the papers were calling her, but he’d leave that one to Saskia, he wouldn’t risk another media frenzy like the one in LA. The story over here had already slipped to a mere couple of column inches on the inside pages, he might need to pull some strings to get them back on the front cover for the reveal.

He followed the tracks that the Land Rover had left in the snow, along the side of the green, to the largest cottage in the row of three. So, the brother was there again, now. He wanted Crystal on her own, when he did approach her, so he’d have to wait a little while longer, by the look of things.

Breakfast was at eight, and he had a meeting with Saskia at nine, but the rest of the day would be his own. He doubted that Crystal would be going far in this weather, it was a pretty safe bet to leave contacting her until after his meeting. He had a perfect view of the cottage from his window, so he’d be able to keep tabs on her comings and goings anyhow. He’d thought about booking a romantic table for two, for the proposal that he had all arranged and ready to put to her, but it didn’t look like there was much on offer, in the way of restaurants or eating houses, here in the village. Maybe he’d check with the owner of the pub and see if a romantic lunch ‘a deux’ could be arranged here, in his room. They did food downstairs, so it wouldn’t be too much trouble to bring it up here, surely? He’d speak to them directly, before breakfast, to give them a chance to arrange things. Money no object, just this once.

He hummed as he took his shower, selecting the lotions and shower gel that Crystal liked, he would leave nothing to chance. He brushed his teeth, the regulation fifty strokes, fronts and backs and flossed carefully, he even brushed his tongue. After the shower he sat on the loo seat and cut his fingernails, and his toenails. Careful to clean under the nails at the same time, he couldn’t abide dirty fingernails, the sign of a dirty mind, his mother always said.

Two doors further along the corridor, at about the same time, the driver of the second car had opened their curtains today in total dismay. What an absolute disaster. There was snow everywhere and the front rooms of the pub totally overlooked the green and the cottages. How on earth would a person negotiate that track, without being seen? It would be possible to sneak out of the back door of the pub, but the lane was wide open now, the snow forming a perfect backdrop for miles around, highlighting every little detail. Just walking over the green or along the lane on foot, would provide a clear view to anyone interested in the cottages or their inhabitants.

There must be another way? Time was of the essence, there wasn’t a moment to lose. The Land Rover was back at the cottage this morning and Crystal might leave at any moment. She had to be stopped, at least alerted to the current situation. There were lights on inside the cottage, some of the occupants must be up already. Of all the rotten luck, this was proving to be trickier than it seemed.

Bernard and Fi-fi were out in the lane again. Maisie had rung to say that they’d be coming home again this morning, they’d be here by ten, weather permitting, and they’d bring mother with them, so this was the last time he’d need to walk the dog, thankfully. His shift up at the factory started at seven this morning, so once the dog had done what she needed to, he’d just put her back in her own home and she could wait there for Maisie and the others to return. His were the first set of footprints along the lane, with Fi-fi trotting along obediently by his side.

Jazz was up at his usual time, taking extra care today, he didn’t want to leave anything to chance. He was already in the shower, when his mobile rang for the first time. He’d run out of the bathroom, dripping with water and stark naked, to answer the bloody thing and come face to face with Maisie, letting herself in through the front door. By the time he’d reached the handset and grabbed a towel from the airing cupboard in the hall, to make himself decent, he’d missed the phone call. He stood in his bedroom and scrolled through the list of contacts in the address book, trying to work out who had thought it necessary to pick up the phone at this hour of the day.

While he stood there, dripping wet, he looked out at the landscape and a second question presented itself. What on earth was Maisie doing here, already? And in the snow too.

The phone rang again.

“Silver,” he barked into the handset.

“Jazz, how yadoin’? Bertie: Fleet Street.”

“Hi, you old scumbag. What can I do for you?”he brayed, in forced bonhomie.

“Need a favour old son, thought I could do one for you too,” Bertie offered.

Jazz raised an eyebrow. Journalists never did you a favour, not even old acquaintances like Bertie. “What’s doing?” he wanted to know.

“I have in my possession some very nice, amateurish, hack snaps of a guy looking remarkably like you, digging in the dirt. Does the ‘
Desmoulins whorl snail
’ ring any bells? What have you been up to, down there in the wilds of Wiltshire?”he laughed, gleefully.

Jazz cursed.

“Now, now. That’s not good language with which to start the day, my old mate. You know the day is only going to go downhill from here on in, don’t you?”

“OK, Bertie, out with it. What do you want? Can you stop them?”

“Yup. I’m first in, and no one else has even had a glimpse of them. My girlfriend has a friend, works for the local rag where you are. I’m sure I can persuade her to forget them, her mate’s given them to me for the scoop, but I don’t have to use them. She won’t hand them on, if I ask her not to.”

“Looks like I’m all yours, then mate. So, what can I do for you?”

“Small favour. Nothing much, as it happens. A friend of a friend is down in your neck of the woods this weekend and needs a fancy dress costume for some party or other, going on tonight. Said he’s snowed in, can’t get out to fetch one. Thought my girlfriend might know someone local who could pick one up for him, but all her other contacts are off covering this thing that was going on last night. Some singer or other and a few bands, bit of a mini Glastonbury, only held in Bath? Made the local news last night? In aid of some charity or other, can’t remember the name of it. Now they’re stuck in the snow too. Weather’s appalling, more snow forecast apparently. Can you get hold of something suitable and get someone to drop it off at the local pub this afternoon? I know it’s a strange request, but this guy is a bit of a big cheese, and he puts a lot of business our way, if you know what I mean? Don’t want to disappoint him. He’s about your height, similar build, said he’s not fussy what we send him, just needs to fit.”

“Must be going to the Hunt Ball, there’s a lot of people rushing around at the last minute trying to get tickets and party gear. He’d be hard pressed to find anything locally at this late notice anyway, by the sounds of it. My housekeeper got hers all sorted weeks ago, and she said there wasn’t much left in the hire shop when she went in. Do I know him, this guy?”

“Nah, been in the States for a while. Only hit town last week. He’s lying low, by all accounts, been a naughty boy, if you know what I mean. Wife’s found out about his indiscretions and all hell’s been let loose.”He laughed, “Better make sure that costume has a mask or some kind of disguise, I get the impression he’s out pussy hunting again. Some folk never change.”

Jazz chuckled.“OK, OK, I’ll see what I can do. Might find him a fairy’s costume or something.”

There was laughter on the other end of the phone.“Thanks mate. Those negatives will meet with a sorry end, if you know what I mean.”

“Just make sure you get all of them, Bertie, especially if I have to go looking for costumes today. I’ve got a big day in the office today, you’ve set me a bit of a challenge, especially with this weather. I owe you one. See you.”

He snapped the phone shut and pulled his dressing gown down, off the hook on the back of the bedroom door, shrugging his shoulders into the garment and tying the sash tightly as he walked back out into the hallway.

“Maisie?” he bellowed from the top of the stairs.

Maisie gave a small, nervous cough from the room to his right. “In here, sir.”

As he walked over to the doorway, she walked out of the study into the hallway, duster in hand.

“I’m right sorry, I am, letting myself in here so early, before you was up like,” she began in a nervous rush.

Jazz scratched the back of his neck and wondered how to broach the ‘naked in the shower’ thing. “No problem Maisie, no harm done. I’m all decent now,” he continued, indicating the dressing gown.

Boy, this was awkward. Before Maisie had the opportunity to launch into one of her convoluted explanations, he began, “I hope I didn’t offend you, the phone rang while I was in the shower and I just ran to answer it. A business colleague needs a last-minute costume for that big do that’s on tonight, for the Hunt? You and Gordon are going, aren’t you?”

“Yes, sir. That’s why I’m in early sir. I wanted to get this job, and my other one, over quickly like, so that I could get off early to get ready. I was planning on walking over, but what with the snow and everything, I got a lift on the milk float. I didn’t mean to catch you, goin’ about your business, as it were.”

She blushed, you sure saw some sights in this job. He could have posed for one of those naughty pictures, he could, like the male models on one of those calendars. Jazz with a big smile and a fireman’s hose, boy he’d look good like that. Of course, she’d managed to walk in on the x-rated version, but he didn’t look too embarrassed or upset about it, so why should she worry. She’d said sorry, anyhow. You took your pleasures where you could, when you got to her age.

Jazz frowned.

Maisie took a deep breath. He wasn’t going to fire her, was he?

“Would you be able to do me a favour Maisie?”

Maisie nodded, wondering what he was going to ask.

“I need to get hold of a fancy dress costume, to fit a guy about my size, for tonight? Any idea where I might find one of those, at short notice?”

For a guy? Now there was a turn up for the books. She wondered who he might bring, and why the gentleman concerned couldn’t find his own outfit. Was Jazz gay? Her jaw dropped. That would be too much of a shame, she thought. He’d been renting this house for the past six months now, and to be honest, she realised that she’d never seen hide nor hair of a female about the place. There were those rumours about him and young Crystal of course, but that’s all they were, just rumours. The pieces began to fall into place. It did make you wonder.

“It’s a man’s costume that you want?” she questioned.

“Favour for a friend. Last minute decision, by all accounts. Those tickets have been selling right up to the last minute so my girlfriend tells me.”

She breathed a sigh of relief, so that answered that one then.

“Oh, so you have a young lady now then, do you?”she asked.

Jazz thought of the beautiful Olivia, with her polished nails, perfectly coloured and styled hair and her ultra-slim fashionable figure. Cool and collected.

Visions of another, with her ragbag clothes, platinum hair awry and pneumonic breasts, jostling to escape from expensive and usually unsuitable underwear, swam in front of his eyes.“Not for long, Maisie,” he answered truthfully. “Not for long.”He gave a small smile. “So, can you help me, or not?” he asked.

Chapter10

Two New Proposals

The large, shiny rig had been shunted up under a large oak tree, taking up the whole of the farm track and completely blocking the entrance and exit to the farm.

Carrie sighed as she stamped up the hill out of the village, following Saskia’s disjointed directions. When she saw where they’d abandoned the van last night, she made a mental note to pop down to the farm as soon as possible, and make her apologies. It would never have occurred to Saskia to get the consent of the homeowner, before blocking off their property in such a way.

Inside the trailer, Saskia was already busy in the wardrobe room. She was currently rooting through boxes and cartons, pulling out wigs, shoes, stage props and lighting cables, discarding the unwanted items in a tangled heap, strewn all over the floor. She was convinced that the costume she wanted was in here somewhere.

Carrie stood by the open doorway and surveyed the mess. Someone was going to have to put that lot back, when the boss had finished, and this time it was not going to be her, she vowed.

Saskia barely glanced in Carrie’s direction as she stuck her head around the corner of the doorframe, to say hello. She merely turned abruptly to throw the latest elf costume, from her most recent film, at her long suffering employee.

“Where have you been?” she screeched, as she flung the garment across the room. “Put this on,” she instructed, without waiting for an answer.“The green tights are over there, in that dresser somewhere. You will have to go and find them yourself. I’m too busy here, with this.”She waved a hand towards the tiny dressing room, squeezed in at the furthest corner of the trailer.

“Get out of those wet things and try it on. You’re dripping snow all over the carpet,” she snapped.

She didn’t wait for Carrie to reply, just assumed compliance, as she did every day.“Where’s Phil, he’s late?” she demanded as Carrie remained motionless in the doorway.

“Trying to dig his car out of the snow, I expect,” Carrie returned, evenly.

Saskia ceased her irritated rummaging. “He’ll never get that car out of the village this morning, he’ll have to walk. Why do you think we pulled the trailer in here last night? Couldn’t get the bloody rig down the lane, once the snow started to close in for the night. I told Bob we should have left earlier, but he was the one who insisted I had to stay on for the after show party. You know what he’s like. She effected a high pitched whiny voice, “Go ahead, dahling. Mingle. Mingle.”She stamped her foot in irritation. “If he tells me that one more time, I swear I’ll sack him on the spot. I need Crystal,” she wailed.

Carrie wondered how many times she’d heard that one since Crystal had disappeared.

Saskia found what she’d been searching for and waved a skin tight catsuit and matching black furry ears in the air in triumph.“I knew this old thing would come in handy again one day. I used to look good in this. No-one will ever recognise me when I put on the furry ears and draw some black whiskers on my face. Result. Cinderella shall go to the ball tonight after all,” she crowed.

“Get me the black tights, too; while you’re in there,” she demanded, as Carrie squeezed around the end of the bed and headed for the tiny cramped dressing room.

As she searched carefully through the drawers in the immaculately tidy extension to the main wardrobe room, she wondered what Phil was planning on wearing. There was nothing in his size in the whole trailer. All of the stage costumes were designed around Saskia’s diminutive five feet three inch frame, he’d never get into any of those, and he wouldn’t want to either. She’d find it a bit of a push herself, dressing up as an elf. She had initially refused to be part of the whole plan, but after she’d had time to consider the ramifications, she’d realised that it might be one way of keeping an eye on them both and alerting Crystal to their intentions. Crystal had meant it, when she’d said that she didn’t want to be found, Carrie didn’t even have a contact phone number for her.

Saskia had dreamed up the idea of attending the Hunt Ball on the way down to the West Country yesterday. She’d been en-route to the charity benefit gig, which was just the first date in the three week tour schedule, when she had received the information on Crystal’s location and had immediately decided that she must apprehend Crystal immediately and convince her to return to work. With deadlines tight and tickets completely sold out, the venues had been booked weeks in advance. Saskia had insisted on a detour and wouldn’t be budged.

Showing remarkable patience, Phil had managed to free up just one night in the West Country on their way through to the South Coast. The tour would resume with a gig on Saturday night in Bournemouth.

Saskia’s informant had discovered that Crystal’s cousin was arranging the bash in favour of the local hunt and one of her own favourite charities was involved too. So Saskia naturally assumed that her spy could call in some favours and wangle them all last minute tickets to the ball.

Carrie felt very apprehensive about the whole thing. She’d been around Saskia long enough to be able to read her moods, and she felt quite certain that she was up to something, she’d looked really smug as she’d replaced the telephone receiver and informed them all that she’d secured the tickets.

She had no way of knowing that Saskia had only passed on the bare minimum of information to them as well, keeping some of the juicier details quite firmly to herself. The cousin was a bit on the slow side apparently, naive and trusting, and she’d inadvertently let slip that Crystal would be attending the ball too. It had been child’s play for Saskia to place a few clandestine calls. She’d easily arranged to be ‘discovered’ among the guests at the ball and photographed as she left the venue with Crystal in tow. They would blaze a trail through the weekend newspapers if she timed it right. She could imagine the grand front page heading declaring ‘RECONCILIATION’ and showing them both together, and the fancy dress costumes would fit in perfectly with her master plan.

What she hadn’t told anyone, least of all Phil, was that she intended ‘leaking’ news of his attendance at the ball to the London press as well. The photographer had been offered a hefty bonus to snap a shot of him and Crystal snogging in some secluded corner or other. Saskia just couldn’t resist making the headlines in the more respectable dailies and the gutter press, all at the same time.

She was well aware that Carrie thought Crystal would be attending the ball with them of her own choice and, equally, she guessed that Phil was intending to use the opportunity to resume his relationship with Crystal right under his wife’s nose. Both of their misconceptions would play right into her hands. She felt no remorse for what she was about to do. Rumour and counter-rumour were the order of the day in her profession and marriages were made and broken with careless abandon every day of the week. If Crystal hadn’t run off like that two weeks ago she wouldn’t have been left in charge of running her own PR at all. She couldn’t be blamed if she’d chosen the most sensational way of promoting the tour that she could think of, it was a rough game and she needed to stay one step ahead of the competition at all times. This particular story would run and run. They’d already garnered two extra tour dates in the States from the scandal that Phil’s affair had created over there, and Crystal’s dramatic departure had added fuel to the press frenzy. Now the whole tour was set to reap the rewards of reflected glory here as well. She’d been portrayed as a caring and benevolent employer and had taken pains to make sure that the story ran and ran. Saskia reasoned that she’d worked long and hard for this break and the tour needed the publicity, she was sure that fame and fortune would surely follow. It just needed a bit of careful handling. Any misgivings were swiftly buried under the rhetoric that if she did well, then her team reaped the benefits and rewards too.

Carrie wasn’t exactly blind to her employer’s faults, and sometimes wondered how she was able to persuade her staff, her wild eyed reporter friend and a whole entourage of hangers-on to dance to her tune, and she had a feeling that the whole escapade would end in tears. Saskia’s plans generally did. In the cramped dressing room she began trying on her costume as instructed and felt relieved that she’d actually managed to get a hold of Crystal this morning, and put her straight on a few things, before the shit hit the proverbial fan.

Phil had thought he was being so clever, stealing the parcel from the mail and coming on down here early to try and catch Crystal unawares, but he’d not known that she wasn’t staying with her brother. Through more luck than judgement, she’d managed to prevent him from making contact last night and now Crystal was alerted to his presence, so it was up to Crystal to decide when and where she wanted to meet him. It had been the best that she could do, under the circumstances.

As she removed her sodden Ugg boots and attempted to struggle into thick lime green tights, she chuckled to herself. Crystal had been more than slightly surprised, when she’d leapt out from her hiding place, beside the dustbins in her gran’s back garden and told her what she knew. Crystal knew that she’d not led Phil or Saskia here. Not intentionally, anyhow.

She wondered if Phil was late for his meeting with Saskia today on purpose. He’d actually taken it quite hard when Crystal had disappeared, if she’d not seen him fawning all over his wife on the TV, she might have believed his protestations of undying love for Crystal, when he’d tried to get her to tell him where she was hiding. The papers were still making much of his reconciliation with his wife, but she thought she’d seen a moment there, when he’d been truly heartbroken that Crystal had disappeared. So far, the staff had all remained loyal to Crystal and had not breathed a word to the press as to her identity, and Saskia knew she had to keep the secret if she wanted to stand any chance of wooing her back, but these were tricky times. The mood changed in an instant in this trade.

Back at the cottage, the second that she closed the door on Carrie’s retreating footsteps, Crystal had grabbed her wellies from the utility room, stuffed them on over her smart business like suit and shoved her Manolos into a carrier bag. Within seconds she had let herself out of the side door and set off through the back garden, heading for the open fields beyond. Lindsay, her gran’s favourite cat, had been circling the apple tree at the far end of the garden, trying to find a way to get at the birds nesting in its ancient gnarled old branches and she took just a moment to shoo the cat back inside the house, before setting off again purposefully.

She had a board meeting to attend and a Hunt Ball to organise and that was her priority today. Anyone else, with any other agenda, would have to look out for themselves. She was not going to let them push her around and she wasn’t going to capitulate either, and the sooner they got the message the sooner they could all get on with their lives.

As the field intersected with the bumpy potholed track which led to the factory, she increased her pace, stamping up the lane with gusto, leaving a pair of pristine footprints in her wake. The physical activity gave her the opportunity to review her situation. She wondered what had changed in the past two weeks. She felt stronger, more in control than she had done in years. She’d arrived from LA, nervous and fretful, sure that her world was about to collapse, at the very next turn.

The decision to go back to her roots, move in with gran, help her family and do what she loved best, organising, had been a good one. The demons in the night had stopped, Saskia and Phil had no hold over her here, she felt safe, in the bosom of her family.

There was only one cloud on the horizon, her new found sanctuary may all crumble to dust, if word got out about her duplicity though. She’d been an innocent, but she’d still been caught out, ‘carrying on’, with a married man. Those ‘old-fashioned’ values were still upheld here in the village, and Phil was a married man with a very influential American wife, too. Things were never easy.

She tossed her head and swung her hair back, over her shoulder. She was through with trying to please everyone. She was not the only one to blame in this disaster. If Phil’s wife had taken the time to ring him at the office on occasion, or had taken the trouble to make herself known within the circles he moved in, then this would never have happened. If Phil had been less of a two-timing bastard and more of a doting husband, then it wouldn’t have happened either. And if she’d been less gullible, she might have seen through his lies sooner.