fingers in the air. ‘Forget about all of that. I need you to focus, sweetie. Focus. I have just decided that our table will win the most points so you have to be on top form.’ She nodded and tapped her finger against her nose, which was slightly redder than normal, and Sara wondered how many glasses of champagne Helen had sampled in the past hour.
But, before Sara could answer, a tall slim man in a pinstriped suit with huge shoulders, black and white brogues, a fedora and black eye mask sidled up towards them, tipped his hat to an even more jaunty angle, lifted Helen’s hand, bent over sharply from the waist and kissed the inside of her wrist. ‘Hiya, Gorgeous,’ he said in a very fake American gangster accent, ‘are you ready to be my moll tonight? You and your little dog too.’
‘Good evening, Caspar,’ Sara said with a smile. ‘You are looking terribly elegant.’
The black silk mask was hoisted up with a sigh of exasperation.
‘Come on. What gave me away?’ Caspar asked.
Sara pointed to his wrist. ‘I’m afraid designer watches like that were not so very common in the organised crime community.’
He looked casually down and snorted. ‘Serves me right for accepting gifts from every jewellery designer I promise to marry,’ he answered, grinning down at Helen, who raised her eyebrows in recognition.
‘Anyway—look at you! All dressed up for a Saturday night and looking very handsome.’
‘Helen dragged me here.’ Sara nodded. ‘Apparently this is the poor girl’s last chance to have some fun before she leaves the world of young, free and single.’
Caspar was already looking over Helen’s head towards the bar, and nodded to the wine waiter who was carrying trays of chilled champagne glasses with what looked like dry ice streaming out of them.
‘I consider it my solemn duty to help my future bride achieve all her goals. Be right back with the drinks, ladies. Prepare to try the famous Kaplinski movie night cocktails.’
And with that he swaggered off across the polished floorboards with his shoulder pads leading the way.
Sara sighed and sat back in her chair. ‘That man is almost good enough for you. Almost. And how is the birth day girl?’
Helen slapped her a little too vigorously on the back. ‘Fan. Tastic. I need to catch up with the catering manager, and find out where your date has got to, but I will be right back. Stay put.’
‘You are not going to leave me here on my own?’ Sara could not hide the desperation in her voice.
‘Of course not,’ Helen replied, giving her one of her looks. ‘Mingle, darling. Mingle. See you in five!’
Sara shook her head with a grin as Helen skipped her way through the crowd, then stopped to chat to a sword carrying pirate who had started a play fight with a young man waving a light sabre.
With a low chuckle, Sara lifted her evening bag higher onto her shoulder, sashayed out into the room and accepted a cool glass of champagne from a formally dressed waiter who winked at her as he presented his silver tray. She winked back. The young couple who ran the village post office were always grateful for extra work at the hotel and she could see his wife on the other side of the room reorganising the buffet display.
Fantastic! Now she had two more people to chat to.
She was just about to turn away when a slim man in a very stylish black suit, wearing white gloves and a flowing cape with huge red lapels, strolled into the room as though it was the deck of a luxurious yacht. He held his body in a stiff and mannered way—aloof and imposing. He was dark and so classically handsome that Sara could only gaze in awe. The gene fairy had certainly waved her magic wand over this boy.
All in all, he looked every inch the poster boy for the modern city executive he no doubt was. Polished and slick as steel. Confident in his abilities and accustomed to taking charge in any situation. A true captain of industry.
Sara gave a low sniff at the memory of all the boys she had dated over the years who had been clones of the man she was looking at. She had been there, done that and had been disappointed time and again when it turned out that they were far too interested in dating someone who they could introduce to their family as the only daughter of Lady Fenchurch rather than find out who she was as a person.
Being at the end of a long line of aristocratic landowners certainly had its disadvantages. Especially when she did not have any rights to a title of her own.
Then Caspar instantly greeted him warmly and pointed him over towards the bar, except that as he turned away she caught a fleeting look on Count Dracula’s face which she identified with only too well. It only lasted a fraction of a second but it spelt out that he felt lonely and foolish and out of place. Almost as though he had been dragged there and dressed up against his will.
Leo Grainger glanced around the room, then stared in horror as Caspar passed him a very odd-looking steaming drink. ‘You do know that you are the one and only person on this planet who could drag me to Helen’s birthday party dressed like this? I just thought you ought to know that. For the record.’
‘What are friends for?’ Caspar replied, waving his Kaplinski cocktail in the air. ‘Think nothing of it. And no, I had nothing whatsoever to do with Helen setting you up with her old school friend. Sorry, pal, but she who must be obeyed has decreed it so. Anyway, it is the least I could do after you offered us the free use of the hotel.’
Leo tipped his head and raised his glass towards Caspar’s. ‘It was my pleasure. There are some compensations for being related to the owner. I was happy to help. And Helen looks as lovely as ever.’
‘That she does,’ Caspar replied, slapping Leo on the back one handed and almost making him spill his drink. ‘Why don’t you make a start on the food? And while you’re checking out the buffet I’ll check on my future bride. The lovely Helen has some sort of surprise entertainment up her sleeve to finish off the evening and I want to be prepared. Back in a minute.’
And with that the gangster rolled across the room, swaggering his shoulders dramatically from side to side.
Leo blinked several times, shook his head, took one sip of the cocktail, almost choked and quickly picked up a glass of sparkling water from a passing waiter with a smile and grateful thanks. If that was the effect a Kaplinski cocktail had on an otherwise fairly normal lawyer like Caspar, he would pass. For this job, he was prepared to remain sober and very alert. And risk the canapés.
Only as he peered across the room towards the buffet table he was struck by something rather remarkable. One of the elegant party guests was talking to the waitress who was juggling empty platters and plates. And not just idle chatting in a condescending way but really laughing and sharing a joke so that when she started jiggling along and shaking her slim and very attractive hips in time with the lively music playing in the background, his own feet starting tapping with them.
For the first time in days an ironic smile creased the corner of Leo’s mouth. He had so many vivid memories about the rude and arrogant guests and diners he had served during his days as a general waiter and dogsbody in his aunt’s hotel. They had been tough times when he had been glad of the work but it had been hard going and he had never truly got used to being ignored or verbally abused—it had been part of the training at the University of Life.
One thing he had learned was that a guest who actually
