The Wife Before Me(46)

She sat between Christopher and Peter’s personal assistant, Isabelle Langdon. Sitting opposite Amelia, and looking regal in midnight-blue organza, was KHM’s contract solicitor, Rosemary Williams. Amelia had met both women at a previous function and had discussed Isabelle’s plans to downsize to a smaller house as soon as her daughter left home. She had shown Amelia photographs of a bungalow and asked her opinion on whether or not it would be a good buy. Amelia, noting the location and condition of the property, had advised her to go for it.

She was now living in the bungalow and her daughter was in Australia, she said, after greeting Amelia warmly.

‘She’s become a beach bum.’ She laughed as she clicked into the gallery on her mobile and showed the photographs to Amelia.

The Pacific Ocean, glistening. Vast waves, as curved as question marks, hurtling towards shore. A young woman soaring above them on a bodyboard, poised and assured as she rode through the froth and the fury. Amelia’s heart skipped a beat, as it always did at the sight of an untrammelled ocean.

‘Your daughter obviously loves the sea,’ she said.

Isabelle smiled and nodded. ‘Elena was a water baby who grew into a mermaid.’

‘You must miss her.’

‘It was difficult in the beginning,’ Isabelle agreed. ‘But the move to the bungalow has been a good distraction.’ She paused, apologetically, her mobile still in her hand. ‘I know this is small fare compared to the work you do but I hope you don’t mind if I ask your advice about one of the rooms?’

‘Not at all,’ Amelia replied. ‘Ask away.’

‘This one has very little natural light. Any tips on how I can brighten it?’ She showed photographs of a small living room and listened intently as Amelia made suggestions about well-positioned mirrors, wallpaper and lighting.

‘You make it sound so easy,’ Isabelle said. ‘I can see exactly how that will work. You’ve quite enlivened me. To be honest, I’ve been finding it difficult since Elena left.’

‘How long will she be away?’

‘Who knows? She loves it over there. I don’t see her coming back to settle here, at least not in the immediate future. I don’t blame her breaking away from me, not really. Her father died when she was young. He was the love of my life and she always felt she was playing second fiddle to him.’

Amelia blinked back a sudden rush of tears. They came at unexpected times and now, in the midst of the annual HKM Christmas party, she was filled with an urge to lay her head on the table and weep.

The band began to play. The crowd looked reluctant to move from their chairs but Nicholas, without hesitation, took her hand and led her onto the floor.

‘What was Isabelle bending your ear about?’ he asked.

‘Her new house. I was giving her some design tips.’

‘She’s worth a fortune yet she’s cadging free advice off you.’

‘She was simply asking my opinion. I like her.’

‘You’re certainly getting on well together… not too well, I hope. You know that she and Rosemary have a thing—’

‘That’s office gossip,’ Amelia protested. ‘They’re just good friends. Anyone can see that.’

He held her closer, whispered in her ear. ‘You’re an expert on that subject, of course.’

‘Stop it, Nicholas. I’m enjoying the night. Don’t spoil it for me.’

As soon as they returned to the table, Peter Harris asked her to dance. Instinctively she glanced at Nicholas, whose nod was imperceptible to anyone but her.

Peter was an excellent dancer, his hands moving smoothly over the back of her dress. ‘You dance beautifully, Amelia.’ He brought his mouth close to hers, the smell of brandy on his breath. ‘Have you ever danced professionally?’

‘Only in my dreams, Peter. But I did attend classes with a friend when I was in my teens. We did everything from contemporary to ballet, ballroom―’

‘Ah! Ballroom. Wonderful. You’re a woman after my own heart.’ He stopped dancing and held her at arm’s length. ‘I’m going to have a word with the band, get them to play some decent dance music.’ He strode to the stage and stopped the singer in the middle of singing ‘All I Want for Christmas is You’. After a brief consultation, the band began to play a tango.

‘Let’s show ’em.’ Beaming widely, Peter pulled her into his arms, his back erect, head rock steady as he glided her forward. Amelia’s legs moved in step with his long, dramatic stride, her body pliant when he bent her backwards. The dancers surrounding them stopped and formed an admiring circle. Peter stood behind her, one hand close to her breast, the other low on her back, their bodies fusing for an instant before he spun her round. Nicholas had joined the circle. He smiled, as if amused, when Amelia flicked her leg high and the slit at the side of her dress opened to reveal her thigh. The younger men watching whistled and stamped their feet. Exaggerating the sensual chorography of the tango, Amelia stepped lightly to the music, giddy with a reckless need to taunt Nicholas. He was still smiling when the dance ended and Peter lifted her into the air. She glimpsed her reflection in the ballroom mirror. Dazzling in silver, her black hair falling back from her cheeks, her arms raised to acknowledge the applause. Her face glowing. What a picture. What a lie.

‘Where did you learn to dance like that?’ Isabelle asked when Amelia returned to the table.