The Party Crasher(82)

      “Ow!” he yells. “You’ve cut my foot!”

  Bean halts, drawn up short, and for a breathless beat, no one moves a muscle.

  “Well, I’m sorry,” she says, breathing hard. “I truly am. But you know what, Humph? Your foot is just another piece of collateral damage. Like my furniture. And Mimi’s kitchen. And everything we loved.” Tears start running down her pink cheeks. “It’s all broken. Effie was right.” She sinks down into a chair and gives an almighty sob. “It’s all broken.”

  I can’t bear it. I can’t bear it. I can’t bear to see my lovely, patient, hopeful, well-meaning sister sobbing.

  “Bean!” I come out of my transfixed spell and lean desperately over the balustrade, tears pricking my own eyes. “Bean, please don’t cry! We’ll be OK!”

  “Effie?” Bean raises an incredulous, tearstained face.

  “We’ll be OK!” I lean even farther over, wishing I could reach her hands. “I swear it! We’ll find a way. We’ll—”

  I break off mid-sentence as I hear a crack—and then, for the second time today, it comes to me that I’m about to die, as the wooden balustrade suddenly gives way under my weight, splintering into bits.

  I can’t even cry out. I’m crashing down through the air before I can stop myself, breathless, numb with shock, unable to think—

  Crump.

  “Ow!”

  “Shit.”

  Somehow Joe’s arms are around me before I land, breaking my fall, so that we hit the ground as a tumbling pair. We roll a couple of times, then come to a halt. For a few seconds I look into his face, breathing like a piston engine, unable to compute what just happened. Then slowly, gradually, he releases me.

      He’s white. And I feel a bit white.

  “Thanks.” I swallow. “Thanks for…Thanks.”

  My head is spinning. I’m going to be sick. Am I going to be sick? No, maybe not. I take a deep breath and give a weird, shaky laugh as I survey my limbs.

  “Not even a bruise,” I say. “Not even a scratch. You’re good.”

  “Can you move everything?” Joe demands.

  “Um…” Experimentally, I jiggle my arms and legs. “Yes, I can. How about you?”

  “Yes.” Joe flashes me a grin. “Thank you. Now, get up slowly. And tell me if anything hurts.”

  I obey him, standing up and cautiously shaking out my limbs. “I’m fine. My ankle’s a bit twisted. But I’m fine.”

  “Good.” He breathes out. “Good. Might want to get that railing fixed.”

  All this time, there’s been a deathly silence over the rest of the group, as they’ve watched us, but now Lacey points at me in sudden recognition.

  “Kate!”

  “Effie,” Gus corrects her. “That’s Effie.”

  “Effie?” Lacey’s eyes narrow in disbelief. “That’s Effie? I knew you weren’t really a doctor. I knew that was all a load of bollocks!”

  “Kate?” Bean goggles at me, and I can see everything falling into place in her brain. “Oh, thank God! You’re Kate! That’s one weight off my mind, anyway. So you…” Her eyes dart between Joe and me. “You two…?”

      “You can stop lecturing me about inappropriate workplace relationships now, Bean,” says Joe, taking my hand and kissing my fingertips. “How do you feel?” he adds to me.

  “Bit shaky,” I admit. “But…you know, OK. Bean, are you OK?” I add anxiously.

  “Not really,” says Bean. “But I’ll survive.”

  “Have some water.” Joe pours me a glass and watches me as I drink it down. “And take it easy.”

  “Look at the lovebirds,” says Lacey, her voice acid. “So, you came to the party after all, Effie. Couldn’t stay away? Your ears must have been burning!”

  “Oh, believe me, they were.” I shoot a scathing little glance at Humph, who turns hastily away.

  “Yes, nice of you to drop in, Effie.” Gus cracks up at his own joke. “Get it? Drop in.”

  Krista hasn’t said anything yet, and as I turn to face her, I can feel the old animosity crackling between us. But I don’t mind. I’m going to be the bigger person. Calmly, crunching over the ravaged crockery, I walk up to her with my most dignified expression.

  “Thank you for your kind invitation, Krista,” I say formally. “On reflection, I find I am able to accept.”

  “Well, you’re very welcome, Effie, I’m sure,” says Krista, her mouth tightening. “You always were.”

  “Thank you,” I say for good measure. “Most considerate of you.”

  “My absolute pleasure,” says Krista, folding her arms.

      And now there’s just Dad. Finally, Dad. I haven’t even looked at him yet. I haven’t got to that. But now…

  As I turn to face him, I feel a lurch, because he’s so pale.