The Other Woman(25)

‘Yeah, sorry.’

‘What do you mean, your mum’s in a state?’ My indignation startled the couple at the table next to me, who both looked at me, and then at each other, with raised eyebrows.

‘She’s got herself worked up about a letter she’s received from the council.’

The conversation of the previous night resounded in my head. The one where I overheard Adam telling Pammie on the phone of our plans.

‘You’ve got to be kidding me?’ I’d hissed.

‘Er, no. And you would do yourself a favour by dropping the attitude,’ he’d said.

I’d lowered my voice. ‘You can deal with her sodding letter from the council tomorrow. I need you here tonight.’

‘I’m pulling into Sevenoaks now,’ he’d said. ‘I’ll come by there if I get back early enough.’

I’d cut him off. He was already there? How could he have gone to her, when I was waiting for him? We were waiting for him?

Looking at him now, a month later, with an arm around my mum, he was charm personified.

‘Oh, I do like him,’ Mum had enthused, her cheeks flushed. ‘What an absolute gentleman.’

‘Isn’t he?’ I’d gushed. ‘Do you really think so?’

‘Oh, he’s a keeper, for sure.’

Mum’s relatively easy to please; it’s Dad any potential suitor has to win over.

‘So, what do you think?’ I’d asked him, as soon as Adam was out of earshot.

‘He’ll have to go a long way to prove his worth,’ he’d said gruffly.

‘He loved him,’ Seb had said sarcastically, from his seat beside him.

I looked back at Pippa, now standing in front of me. ‘Is Mum all right?’ I asked. I could see that the windows behind their table were steamed up and running with condensation.

‘Yeah.’ She nodded. ‘It’s one of her usual ones, but she’s worried about opening a window because it’s so cold outside.’

It wasn’t yet March, and there was a bitter chill in the air. ‘Someone’s bound to complain,’ I said. ‘But they’ll just have to get on with it.’

Pippa nodded. ‘No problem. And by the way, who is the guy over my right shoulder? The one in the pink shirt?’

I glanced over and my heart did a little leap, though I had no idea why. ‘Oh, that’s Adam’s brother, James,’ I said, far more casually than I felt.

‘Oh my God. He is dish delish,’ she said.

I smiled. ‘He’s taken, I’m afraid.’

‘Aw, no way. Who by?’

I made a convincing show of looking around for a girl in a blue dress, but I was already pretty sure she wasn’t there. I’d tried to find her before. So, either she hadn’t come, or she was wearing a different colour.

The boys were getting rowdy again, and it was only a matter of time before one of them exposed their manhood to a bunch of like-minded exhibitionists.

The only saving grace was that Princess Pammie was in attendance, which went some way to sorting out the boys from the men. Though, if I had the choice, I’d rather see sixteen flaccid penises being paraded by their far-prouder-than-they-should-be owners, than Adam’s mum. I should be saddened by that admission but, with half a bottle of prosecco inside me, I found it quite amusing. The very thought of it made me smile. I wasn’t going to let her get to me, no matter how hard she tried.

‘Wait a minute,’ cried Pammie, as she scurried towards Adam across the wooden floor. Her long, tight-fitting skirt restricted her leg movements, making her top half look as if it were going faster than the rest of her. She pasted on a smile and gave a nod to the guests she hadn’t yet acknowledged, as if it were her own party. ‘Oh, Gemma, how lovely to see you,’ she said, blowing a kiss.

I reminded myself of my mantra, as I watched her fawning and pontificating. I won’t let her get to me, no matter how hard she tries.

‘When you’re ready, Mum,’ Adam said over the loudspeaker.

‘Yes, yes,’ she huffed. ‘I just want to get a photo.’

‘What, now?’ asked Adam.

‘Yes, now,’ tutted Pammie theatrically. Her audience tittered. She was at her best in front of a crowd, yet she pretended she hated it. ‘Just a quick one, whilst we’ve got the chance, and before you all get pie-eyed. Now, where is everybody? Where’s the family? I want one of all the family.’

Adam rolled his eyes, but watched patiently as the queen bee buzzed around, ushering her relatives into three rows of eight. James came from behind me and placed a hand in the small of my back as he passed.

‘So, Lucy and Brad, you little ones kneel down here,’ Pammie said. ‘Your mum and dad can go behind, and Albert, you stand at the back. We won’t be able to get you up again if you kneel down.’

Canned laughter from the gallery.

‘Okay, have we got everybody? Emily? Where’s Emily?’ she called out.

I walked over, glass of prosecco in hand, conscious of the bystanders not invited to be a part of the Banks’ family album.

‘Adam, give me your phone,’ demanded Pammie. ‘Mine’s no good. We’ll take it on yours.’

Adam made a show of handing her his phone with mock reluctance.