look beautiful—she looked petrified. Which was exactly what she was, all her new-found boldness having flown out the window the moment she’d climbed into Joy’s car for the drive over to Point Piper. It seemed that thinking about going to Henry’s party was a lot different from actually going.
‘I don’t think I can do this, Joy,’ she blurted out, her hands turning clammy as they twisted together in her lap.
Joy sighed, then pulled the car over to the kerbside. But she didn’t turn the small sedan around. She just switched off the engine then faced Violet with stern grey eyes.
‘Do I have to remind you what happened on that plane, Violet? And what you told me you’d decided to do from now on?’
Shame made Violet grimace. She’d been so full of resolve after her near-death experience, so determined to change. Yet here she was, skittering to a halt at the first hurdle.
‘A life lived in fear, Violet, is no life at all,’ Joy quoted from somewhere. ‘But it’s up to you. I’ll take you home if that’s what you really want. But you’ll hate yourself in the morning.’
Violet already hated herself.
Joy reached over and touched her gently on her whitened knuckles. ‘I know it must be hard for you to do this. Bad habits are very difficult to break. But you have to start somewhere. You can’t hide yourself away for the rest of your life. You’re no longer a teenage girl with a face full of pimples and scars. You’re a lovely young woman with clear skin, beautiful eyes and a figure I would have killed for when I was your age.’
‘Really?’
‘God, yes. I had no bust to speak of, even in my twenties. And no hips either. But we’re talking about you, dear, not me. So what’s it to be? Are you going to your boss’s party, or are you going to be a wishy-washy lily-livered little nincompoop and ask me to take you home?’
Violet could not help it. She laughed, her laughter breaking some of the tension which had been gathering inside her chest since she’d got dressed this evening.
‘Of course,’ Joy rattled on, ‘if you ask me to take you home, I’m going to be very annoyed indeed. It took me ages to find that infernal costume amongst all the sentimental stuff I’ve kept over the years, then even longer to alter it to fit you. When Lisa played Snow White in her college review she was skinny and flat-chested like me. Look at all the work I had to do on that bodice alone, cutting it down the middle, then adding facings and putting in eyelets and laces so that we could give your very nice bustline more room.’
Violet glanced down at the bodice of her costume, startled to find that from that angle all she could see were two half-mounds of naked flesh oozing out of the top. She hadn’t realised that so much of her breasts were on display. Standing up, her reflection in Joy’s full-length mirror hadn’t looked quite so daring. Such a sight only added to her nervous state. She wasn’t used to showing off her body.
Lady Gwendaline didn’t mind, however, came the unexpected thought. She flashed her cleavage around with panache, enjoying the effect it had on Captain Strongbow.
‘And don’t forget all the money you’ve spent on everything else,’ Joy continued relentlessly. ‘New shoes. Hair. Make-up. All wasted if you go home now.’
Strangely, it was thinking of Lady Gwendaline’s boldness which made up Violet’s mind more than Joy pointing out the money she’d spent on herself.
Violet scooped in a deep breath before unlocking her twisted fingers then breathing slowly out. ‘All right. I’ll go.’
Joy’s face lit up. ‘That’s marvellous. I’m so proud of you.’
Violet didn’t feel all that proud of herself. Not yet. Underneath, she still felt petrified. But to go back home was unthinkable now.
‘If you don’t mind my making a suggestion…’ Joy said as she started the engine once more. ‘Have a glass or two of wine when you first get there. Nothing like a bit of Dutch courage to settle the nerves.’
‘All right,’ Violet agreed, thinking it was a good idea.
‘When you really think about it, Violet, there’s nothing to be afraid of. It’s just a party.’
Violet straightened her shoulders and steeled her resolve. Joy was right. It was just a party; nothing to be afraid of. It wasn’t as though she was going to be left totally alone with a roomful of strangers. Henry would be there and at least one of his authors, whom Violet had met, or at least talked to over the phone.
Unfortunately, however, there would be lots of people there she didn’t know—clever, cultured people, the kind Henry liked to socialise with. People from the artistic world. Playwrights and painters. Musicians and movie people.
‘Oh my goodness, I forgot!’ Violet exclaimed just as Joy pulled into the steep driveway which led down to the guest car park attached to Henry’s apartment block. ‘His son will be there.’
‘The movie producer?’
Henry was always talking to Violet about his son and his successes, information which she had imparted to Joy.
‘Yes. Leo. He came over from London to spend Christmas and New Year with his father.’
‘And that’s a problem?’
‘No. No, I guess not. It’s just that … Well, he’s rather famous, isn’t he?’ Not to mention very good-looking. Henry had a photo of him dressed in a tuxedo on his desk. It had been taken at an awards night when one of his movies had won best picture.
‘Did his wife come with him?’
‘His wife?’ Violet echoed blankly.
‘Isn’t he married to Helene Williams? The actress?’
‘He was. They’re divorced now.’
‘Keep well away from him, then,’ Joy warned as she pulled up next to a flashy red sports car. ‘Especially if that’s his car.’
‘For heaven’s sake, Joy, I doubt a man like Leo Wolfe would ever be interested in someone like me. For one thing, he has to be well over forty. He has a twenty-year-old son from his first marriage.’ Violet had actually met the son, Liam, when he’d been down under for a backpacking holiday earlier in the year. He’d stayed with his grandfather for a few days and had come into the office one day. A very good-looking boy. And extremely charming.
‘Older men often like pretty young girls,’ Joy pointed out drily. Especially sweet, innocent ones like you, she didn’t add. But she thought it. Lord, but she hoped she’d done the right thing, encouraging Violet to doll herself up and go to this party. It had seemed the right thing at the time, with Violet wanting so desperately to throw off her hang-ups and lead a more normal life for a twenty-five-year-old girl.
It was obvious by the look of this place, however—harbour-side apartments in Point Piper cost heaps—that Violet’s wealthy boss and his even wealthier son lived and mixed in circles where traditional values and morals were not necessarily adhered to. The rich and the famous lived life by their own rules. Perhaps she shouldn’t have told Violet to have a drink or two.
Still,
