An hour later, Laura wandered back into the corridor, bouncing into the walls as she turned the dress in her hands through all angles as though it was a riddle that had to be solved. It was too beautiful. She’d feel too conspicuous in it. She steadied the towel turban Sam and Kitty had insisted she wear back to the room, even though Laura was sure it would undo all Gemma’s excellent work. And it was excellent. Flawless.
The towel fell, lopsided, to the side of her head, and she had to rebalance it in one hand. She could already hear the men chatting in the sitting room below the mezzanine. Alex and Isabella’s door opened as she passed, and they wandered out, stony-faced.
‘Hi,’ Isabella muttered in a distinctly frosty tone as she passed by, looking glorious in a skimpy gold lurex knitted dress that clung to her like a prayer. Alex said nothing, just gave the merest shake of his head, as if to say, ‘Don’t ask.’
‘See you down there,’ she said quietly to their backs.
The dress fitted like a dream. It clung and curved and positively kissed her body, and the red shoe-boots gave it a modern edge that was more like Scarlett Johansson than Anita Ekberg. Laura smoothed her hair nervously as she turned the final curve of the staircase and stepped into view.
Everyone was dressing the tree. Kitty had accessorized herself with a length of thick purple tinsel wrapped round her neck like a feather boa. ‘I never get to do this at home. The kids always hog the tree in our house,’ she trilled, artfully draping a particularly bushy length of silver tinsel.
‘Tinsel, Rob?’ Sam asked, wearing a tiny hot-pink strapless dress that was so tight it was more like a compression suit, and spike heels that doubled as weapons and had no doubt left dot-to-dot pinpricks on the leather floor of their bedroom. The memory of her slurring and waxy on the bed a couple of hours previously was like a distant dream.
Rob shrugged. ‘My niece insists. She says it’s not a proper Christmas tree without tinsel.’
‘That’s the lovely thing about Christmas,’ Kitty said. ‘Everyone’s got their own rituals. I’ve started up a tradition of making gingerbread stars with the children to put on our tree, even though every single year, Pocket and the ducks eat them all. I tell myself I won’t bother next time and yet come the first weekend in December I still find myself elbow-deep in golden syrup and cookie-cutters,’ she sighed, blowing out through rosy cheeks. ‘Here, Isabella – can you pull this round? Try and get it to go in and out of the branches.’
Isabella began weaving the tinsel to Kitty’s instructions, whilst Sam looked disapprovingly at a bunch of glitter-covered laminated snowflakes that were clearly home-made. ‘You know, there’s such a thing as giving kids too much power, Rob,’ she drawled.
It was Orlando who saw Laura first, and his jaw dropped open with a Latin appreciation of the female form that completely disregarded whether he wanted to sleep with her or not.
‘Bella!’ he whispered, causing the others to turn too, their glasses in their hands. They all looked so imposing in their tuxedos, like one of those group shots of impossibly good-looking men in Ralph Lauren ads. The room fell silent. Except for Sam.
‘Fuck me!’ she hollered. ‘Who the hell did that?’
Laura instantly turned to race back up the stairs and hide under her duvet, but Cat – laughing delightedly in her red silk wisp of a dress that gave less coverage than lipstick – ran over and grabbed her. ‘Doesn’t she look amazing?’ she asked, tugging Laura towards them all.
The entire group was open-mouthed – even Kitty, who had been in on Cat’s plan. The combination of the new hair and dress was dazzling.
‘Well . . .’ David blustered, breaking the silence first. ‘Blonde s-suits you.’
‘Suits her?’ Cat repeated, rotating Laura on the spot. ‘Look at her! She’s a goddess.’ She nodded proudly, squeezing Laura’s arm in her own. ‘My work here is done.’
Laura glowed happily, delighted by Cat’s response.
Sasha came over with a drink for Laura and Cat handed it to her. Laura looked at the glass in her hand and at the same time the other small badge of belonging – the grey Chanel polish that Cat had insisted was painted on her fingernails – shone under the lights.
‘Thanks.’ She looked up hesitantly at the others, keeping her eyes off Isabella. She could feel the chill six feet away. The men were all gathered in front of what appeared to be a giant box that had been shrouded in red velvet. Some present!
Rob nodded. ‘Stunning, Laura,’ he said chivalrously, but with a look in his eyes that suggested he wasn’t merely being polite. ‘And the, uh . . . dress, too.’
‘Thanks to Cat,’ she murmured, sending her mentor another grateful smile. Looking at everyone gathered here, she only now realized how woefully underdressed she would have been in cords.
She felt Alex’s eyes on her and turned to look at him, intrigued to know his reaction – she bet he was a man who loved blondes – but he walked away and started fiddling with the stereo system with his back to her. Inexplicably, her spirits dived.
‘Nice shoes,’ David commented.
Laura bit her lip. ‘Yessss . . . Something of a weakness. My boyfriend doesn’t strictly know about these yet,’ she smiled.
‘Oh, you’re one of those! You buy something and hide it for a few weeks, and then, when your other half asks if it’s new, you reply, “What? This old thing? I’ve had it for ages, dear.”’
Laura held her hand up. ‘Busted!’
‘Yes. We have one of those in our house,’ he said, glancing over at his dramatic wife, who was delicately – with one hand – placing stripy Murano-glass baubles on the tree, completely unprepared to put down her drink, even for a minute. ‘Here you go,’ he said, handing her one of the Lalique crystal snowflakes.
Laura took it nervously, hoping it was insured. It didn’t matter quite so much when a bauble slipped off the tree at home – their decorations were from Debenhams.
‘Well,’ Rob said after a while, once the tree was as decorated as the guests, ‘there’s a tree in my house and snow on the ground. But neither Christmas, nor – and I can’t believe I’m going to say this – skiing are the real reason we’re here.’ He took a step closer to the red velvet box and put his hand on the cloth. ‘We’ve had to keep this a secret or we knew he’d never come, but Orlando – happy fortieth, buddy!’ And with a quick tug, he pulled away the velvet to reveal an ice bar, sculpted into the shape of the Eiger, with a luge funnelled through the middle.
‘What? No!’ the big man gasped, as everyone cheered and burst into a spontaneous round of ‘Happy Birthday’. ‘I am so old,’ he wailed, real tears sliding down his cheeks as he touched a finger to the ice.
‘Yes, but so handsome,’ Kitty smiled, patting him on the arm.
‘And so buff,’ Sam drawled. ‘I’d so do you if you weren’t gay.’
‘You promise?’ he sniffed.
‘Totally,’ she grinned, and Laura caught the mischievous glint in her eyes. Was this what Rob had meant earlier, when he’d said a lot of her outrageous behaviour was an act? She was playing for laughs? Or gasps?
‘Anyone in the mood for some games? Let’s play charades!’ Kitty half asked, half ordered. A murmur of easy assent rose up.
‘So long as you go first,’ Cat said, tucking herself into the corner of a sofa.
Kitty stood patiently in front of the fire, whilst everyone settled themselves on the cushions. The flames leapt behind her excitedly, trying to compete with Sam’s hair.
Laura sat down – perched on one buttock, the skirt was so tight – squeezing herself between Isabella, and Rob and Cat. Sam, David, Orlando and Alex were on the opposite sofa. Alex kept staring at the floor, clearly lost in thought. He looked stupidly handsome in his dinner jacket and appeared to be brooding about something. He had mimed the rendition of ‘Happy Birthday’, she’d noticed. She looked at Isabella, next to her, and saw the same scowl on her pretty face as his. No doubt ferocious arguments were part and parcel of their passionate relationship – the making up would be so much more fun. Laura sighed as she looked back at Kitty. She and Jack never argued. Ever.
‘Book,’ Rob said beside her as Kitty mimed the signals. ‘. . . and film . . . three words.’
‘First word . . . The,’ David cried, and Kitty stabbed a jubilant finger in the air at him.
‘I can see you’ve got a degree, darling,’ Sam quipped.
‘Second word,’ Orlando murmured. ‘Third syllable.’
Kitty pulled a stroppy face and slumped her shoulders.
‘Moron!’ Sam cried.
‘Zombie,’ called Cat.
‘The Hunchback of Notre Dame!’ Orlando shouted, jumping to his feet.
‘That’s five words,’ Isabella reminded him.
‘Oh.’ Orlando sat back down again dejectedly.
‘Teenager,’ Alex muttered.
Kitty began stabbing her finger at him.
‘Teenager?’ Alex repeated, surprised to have got it right.
Kitty pushed her hands together, leaving just a small gap between them.
‘Teen?’ Rob asked.
Kitty nodded vehemently. It was clearly an agony for her to keep so quiet.
‘. . . Second word, second syllable . . . ’ Sam murmured, sitting on the edge of the seat, her competitive spirit well and truly awakened.
Kitty got down on all fours and began padding around, panting.
‘Dog,’ Isabella called out.
Kitty lifted her left arm and held it like a paw.
‘Sick dog! Poor sick dog! Lame dog!’ Rob called out, not pausing for breath.
‘Amputee dog!’ Sam hollered.
Kitty quickly stood up again and put on a serious face. She pretended to put something in her ears and then held an imaginary thing in front of her, moving it around and cocking her head.
‘Vet!’ Orlando shouted so loudly it could have set off avalanche warnings all through the resort.
Kitty, pointed at him delightedly.
‘Vet . . . teen . . .’ Rob murmured.
‘The Velveteen Rabbit!’ Laura blurted out.
Everyone looked at her in amazement, and then back at Kitty, who let the sounds explode out of her.
‘YES!!!!!’ she cried, running over and hugging Laura tightly as though she’d successfully answered the riddle from the troll who was going to eat her babies.
‘What is it?’ Sam asked Alex. ‘I’ve never even heard of it.’
‘It’s only, like, the most perfect children’s book ever,’ Kitty cried. ‘It completely defines my childhood. Cat and I used to read it together all the time, didn’t we?’
Cat nodded enthusiastically.
‘We liked the bit about him playing in the garden with the real rabbits best, remember?’ Kitty continued.
Cat held her breath, desperately trying to think back and recover the details, but it was fairly obvious that she couldn’t remember it. Kitty’s face fell.
‘Yeah, well, like I said – never heard of it,’ Sam drawled.
‘That’s because you were born twenty-one,’ Kitty muttered, taking a seat on the sofa. ‘Right, your go, Laura.’
Laura froze. Now she had to stand in front of all of them and mime? In The Dress? Oh, why had she answered? Why couldn’t she just have kept her big mouth shut?
She shuffled up to the fireplace, staring at the flames for inspiration. It had to be something literary and clever. She couldn’t come up with that Jilly Cooper she’d read in the Peak District last August, even though that was the last thing she’d read . . .
Sam was pouring herself another glass; David was pointedly covering the top of his glass with his hand; Isabella was talking to Orlando – who had crossed sides and was now sitting in Laura’s place – in what appeared to be furious Italian; and Cat was miming something to Alex. Only Rob was watching her intently, ready to play the game.
She turned to him, but Rob looked down at his feet as she did so. As Alex looked up, though, he met her gaze this time, and she felt her stomach flip as his eyes held hers. Something had changed. The chemistry between them had been obvious from the second she’d stepped off the coach, and he’d not squandered a single opportunity that had come his way to flirt with her. But this was different. The playful teasing had gone. Manners could hide a lot of things, but not desire, and somewhere she knew a clock had begun to tick.
‘Get on with it,’ Sam said restlessly.
Laura looked away, her pulse rocketing as she sensed the shift between them. Quickly she held up five fingers, feeling all her defences kick in.
‘Five words . . . song . . . ’ Kitty cried, enjoying herself immensely. ‘Second word . . . The.’
‘Fourth word . . . small word,’ Sam said through narrowed eyes. ‘The, and, if, of, me, you, it . . .’
Laura pointed at her suddenly.
‘It!’ Rob called.
Laura shook her head.
‘You,’ David tried.
Laura pointed to him, nodding.
‘Blank the blank you blank,’ Cat murmured.
‘Fifth word . . . small word again . . .’ David said, watching her hand movements keenly.
‘The, and, if, of, me, you, it, is, are, yes, no . . . No!’ Kitty cried as Laura pounced on her.
‘So blank the blank you no?’ Isabella asked Orlando. ‘I don’t understand this game.’
‘Me neither,’ Orlando shrugged. ‘The English.’
‘I’ve got it,’ Alex drawled, looking straight at Laura and reading her secret message clearly. ‘“Better the Devil You Know.”’
Laura nodded, clapping him feebly.
‘What? Kylie?’ Sam sneered snobbishly.
But Laura ignored the dig. Isabella was still in her place and she had to sidestep over Alex to take his place as he got up for his turn. There wasn’t much room between the sofas and the coffee table, and he placed his hands on her arms to steady her, gripping her with slightly stronger pressure than was needed so that she looked at him as he passed only inches away from her. She willed her eyes to clearly back up the point she had just made, but his stopped her with such giddying intensity that it made her heart gallop. Before his eyes had said, ‘Stop.’ Now they said, ‘Go.’
She sat down on the sofa, trembling, her eyes on her hands as everyone else started to decipher Alex’s own efforts: another song . . . five words . . .
Laura knew it just two words in: ‘Take a Chance on Me.’