in their direction and did one of those little show-bizzy fingertip waves before sashaying over.
‘Well, hello there,’ she purred, taking in the logo on the young man’s overalls as she extended her hand towards him. ‘Lovely to see you. You must be Danny.’
The boy, all embarrassment and eagerness, looked as if he might explode. ‘That’s me,’ he said, as they shook hands. ‘Danny.’
‘And how are you, Danny ?’
‘Oh right, I’m fine – yeah, really great – thank you,’ he spluttered.
‘Good, now would you mind awfully taking all this lot round the back of the house and getting rid of the van? This is supposed to be a surprise party and it’s a bit of a giveaway.’
‘I’ve already told him that,’ Suzie began; not that the boy was listening.
‘Right-oh,’ he said to Lizzie. ‘Course, not a problem. I watch you all the time on Starmaker, you know.’
‘Really?’ Lizzie smiled. ‘Well, thank you, Danny, that is so good to know. And you’ve been enjoying the new series, have you?’
‘Oh God, yeah, this last lot was the best one yet – and that Kenny – I mean, who would have thought he’d a won? I was thinking Cassandra . . .’ Danny stopped and reddened up a touch. ‘I don’t suppose I could have your autograph, could I?’ he said, thrusting his clipboard out towards her. ‘Only my girlfriend is never going to believe me when I tell her that I’ve met you. She really likes you as well.’
Lizzie’s smile warmed a few degrees more. ‘Of course you can, Danny.’ She took the pen from between his fingers. ‘What would you like me to put?’
‘Oh I dunno. I can’t think . . .’ he said.
Now there’s an understatement, thought Suzie grimly.
Lizzie pressed the pen to her lips, apparently deep in thought. ‘How about “To Danny, thank you for making my party so very special, lots of love, Lizzie Bingham, kiss, kiss, kiss”?’ She purred, barely breaking eye contact as she scribbled across what looked like it might be their delivery note. ‘Would you like me to put, “You’re the star, that’s what you are?”’
It was the Starmaker reality show’s catchphrase, but on Lizzie’s lips it sounded positively erotic.
Danny giggled and blushed the colour of cherryade. ‘Oh my God, right, well yeah, that’d be lovely, thanks,’ he blustered, waiting to take back the clipboard. Making an effort to compose himself, he said, ‘So are there going to be a lot of famous people here tonight then?’
All smiles, Lizzie tipped her head to one side, implying her lips were sealed, while managing to suggest that anything was possible. ‘We’re just glad that you’re here,’ she said after a second or two.
Suzie shook her head in disbelief; the woman was a complete master class in innuendo and manipulation. Poor little Danny was putty in Liz’s perfectly manicured hands.
‘Righty-oh,’ said the boy, coming over all macho and protective. ‘Well in that case best I’d get a move on then, hadn’t I? Get these balloons sorted.’
‘Thank you, that would be great. Hope to catch you later,’ Lizzie said, all teeth and legs and long, long eyelashes.
‘Oh, for God’s sake, put him down,’ said Suzie under her breath as Danny strode away like John Wayne, dragging his gas bottle behind him. ‘Do you have to do that?’
‘Oh, come on,’ said Lizzie, switching off the glamour like a light bulb. ‘You’re just jealous and I was listening, remember – you weren’t getting anywhere with him. Besides, he loved it. Did you see his face? It’s made his day, probably his decade. You know you always have to remember the little people, darling,’ she said in a mock-starry voice, with a big grin. ‘They’re the ones who can make you or break you; although I have to say it really pisses me off that after ten years of a career in serious journalism, it’s two series of that bloody reality TV show that’s finally put me on Joe Public’s GPS.’
‘Come off it, Lizzie, if you’re looking for sympathy you’ve come to the wrong place. You told me you hated roughing it – living out of a knapsack with no toilets, constant helmet hair, and how being embedded with the troops played hell with your skin.’
‘Well it does – just look at Kate Adie and that Irish woman – have they never heard of moisturiser?’ Lizzie peered myopically at her watch. ‘What time did you say Mum and Dad are due back?’
‘Still not wearing your glasses?’
‘Oh please. It’s fine if you’re Kate Silverton, all feline and serious, the thinking man’s love bunny, but trust me it really hasn’t worked in light entertainment since Eric Morecambe.’
‘What about contacts—’
‘Darling, I’ve got more contacts than you could wave a wet stick at,’ Liz said slyly with a wolfish grin.
‘You know what I mean, and don’t come over all starry with me, kiddo. Remember I was there with you when you were in your jarmies interviewing Billy the guinea pig and Flopsy rabbit with a hairbrush.’
Liz laughed. ‘I’d forgotten all about that.’
‘Well, don’t worry, I haven’t. Anyway, Aunt Fleur says she’ll try and keep Mum and Dad out till six if she can.’ Suzie checked her own watch. ‘She’s going to give us a ring when they’re on their way back. So that’s just on two hours, I reckon, if we’re lucky. So can you come and give us a hand? We’ve got to put out the tables, get the chairs sorted out, then there’s the flowers, the banners to be hung, the red carpet, the balloons. After that we need to get the cake sorted, check on the glasses and then there’s the fireworks . . . God, actually there’s loads more to do, so which do you fancy doing?’
Lizzie pulled a face. ‘You know, sweetie, I’m useless at all that sort of thing. I’ve got some calls to make and I need to get ready. It sounds like you’ve got it all covered. You won’t really be needing me, will you?’
At which point Sam, Suzie’s husband, appeared from around the corner of the garage wheeling a great pile of chairs. ‘Oh there you are. For God’s sake you two, we haven’t got time for a girlie chat,’ he said, talking and walking and heading for the back garden. ‘It’s total chaos round the back there. Can you catch up later and get round there and give us a hand?’
Suzie glared at his retreating back: as if she hadn’t been working like a dog since the instant her mum and dad pulled out of the drive. Not to mention all the planning and hiring and booking and worrying about whether the party would all come together.
‘So what’s up with Mr Happy?’ asked Lizzie.
‘Don’t take any notice, he’s just a bit stressed, that’s all,’ Suzie said, wondering why on earth she felt the need to defend him. ‘Work and things, and the girls are a bit of handful at the moment – well, Hannah is. Teenagers, you know how it is.’
Lizzie wrinkled her nose. ‘Fortunately I don’t and to be honest the man’s got no idea what real pressure is.’
No,
