The Party Crasher(25)

  “Of course,” says Joe, a sudden kindness to his voice. Then he adds, almost casually, “Is Effie here?”

  “No, she couldn’t come.” Bean pauses, then adds in a rush, “She’s got a date, actually. An Olympic athlete. She passed him lemon sorbet and they took it from there.”

  “An Olympic athlete?” Joe looks surprised. “Wow.”

  Yes, I think silently behind my rosebush. So. Take that, Joe.

  “He’s a philanthropist now,” Bean adds breathlessly. “Businessman and philanthropist.”

  I want to hug her.

  “He sounds quite the catch,” says Joe, and there’s an edge to his voice. Or did I imagine that?

  “Anyway, I should go in.” Bean shoots a worried glance at her watch. “I’m late. You’re coming to the family dinner, aren’t you?”

  “Apparently so.” Joe raises his eyebrows. “Although I’m not sure how I qualify.”

  “Oh well, you’re practically family,” says Bean vaguely, her cheeks a little pink. “So I expect Krista thought…” She trails off awkwardly.

  What she’s not going to say is, Krista invited you because you’re famous now. But that’s the honest truth. Krista’s shameless. She’ll want to boast about how she’s best friends with him. And Joe’s wry smile tells me that he fully understands this.

      “Very kind of Krista,” he says politely. “Thoughtful.”

  “Yes. Well.” Bean passes a flustered hand through her hair. “I really must go. See you later! I’m on the list,” she adds to the bouncer as she hurries to the front door. “Bean Talbot.”

  “What’s that?” The bouncer points a fleshy finger at the birdbath, still sitting on the drive. “Is it a present for the family?”

  “No,” says Bean patiently. “I am the family. It’s a birdbath.”

  The bouncer looks as though he’s never heard the term birdbath before and doesn’t believe in it for a moment. He scrutinizes it suspiciously, then looks up to scrutinize Joe, too—at which point his brow clears.

  “Wait. You’re that doctor. Off the telly.”

  “Yes,” allows Joe, after a pause. “I am.”

  “My girlfriend’s obsessed by you!” The bouncer is suddenly full of friendly animation. “Obsessed! She changed her free pass from Harry Styles to you. And she wouldn’t do that lightly, because she loves Harry Styles. I was like, ‘Babe, you sure?’ and she was like, ‘That doctor is hot.’?”

  He looks at Joe as though expecting an appropriate reaction, and I bite my lip hard because otherwise I’m going to splutter with laughter.

  “Right,” says Joe. “Well. Thanks. That’s…an honor. Although you should be aware I have a policy of not taking up free passes with women whose boyfriends could flatten me with one blow.”

      “I’m telling her now.” The bouncer has stopped listening and is texting. “Listen, I’m not supposed to do this, but can I get a selfie?”

  He grabs Joe and beams at his phone screen, while Joe gazes pleasantly ahead—not exactly ignoring him, but not doing a cheesy grin either. Then Joe’s phone rings and he says in evident relief, “So sorry, I’d better answer this.”

  As he moves off to take his call, Bean disappears inside the house, and for a few moments there’s quiet. Cautiously, I shift position again, because a muscle in my leg has started to spasm. This is getting ridiculous. What am I going to do? How do I get into the house? I still need a hand grenade. Or a different plan altogether, except I don’t have one.

  Guests are still arriving in dribs and drabs. An entire family in black tie approaches and is admitted. I have no idea who they are, must be more friends of Krista’s. Kenneth from the golf club arrives, wearing a tartan bow tie, mistakes the bouncer for a guest, and starts groping politely for his name—“Now, I’m sure we’ve met”—before the bouncer puts him right and sends him inside.

  Then Joe wanders past, still on the phone, and I stiffen.

  “Hi, Mum?” he’s saying. “Did I miss a call just now? Yes, I’m here. Oh, I see. Well, no worries, I haven’t gone in yet, I’ll wait for you.” He listens a moment, then says, “No, don’t be silly. We’ll go in together. See you in ten minutes.”

  He moves to one side of the house and starts reading something on his phone. It’s gallant of him to wait for his mum, I admit to myself grudgingly. But, then, they’ve always been close. Joe’s father died when he was small, and his sister, Rachel, is eleven years older than him. So after Rachel went to university, it was just his mum and him at home. Joe was teased a bit at junior school, his mum being the headmistress, but he tolerated it calmly, almost as though it was irrelevant. He stayed focused on what he wanted from life. He could see the bigger picture long before the rest of us could.

      She must be super-proud of him now, I think, a little bitterly. Everyone in the country loves her precious, talented doctor son. From bouncers to the prime minister. Everyone in the whole country loves Joe. Except me.