Her Yorkies?’ Emily, who hated the limelight as much as she did, was indignant. ‘How about her brains? Her efficiency. Her UN-like diplomacy?’
A few people called out ‘hear-hear’, but not enough to decrease the humiliation. Or Emily’s sotto voce, ‘Bloody wanker.’
The children appeared at the edge of the group, clearly keen to see what the hubbub was about.
Oh, when would this end?
Undeterred, Oli carried on as if no one had said a word. ‘Thanks to Charlotte’s fortitude, we’ve got two gorgeous children who, hopefully, take after their mother more than they do their monster of an old man.’ He pulled a face, beaming when the protests flooded in.
Charlotte did her best not to flinch when he put his arm around her shoulder and lifted his glass. ‘I’m going to wrap this up so all of this attention doesn’t go to her head. Wouldn’t want her running off and finding someone else’s shirts to iron, would we? To Charlotte. Happy Birthday.’
As the crowd dutifully echoed the toast and drank, Charlotte watched in horror as Freya marched with the fixed determination of someone who may have had slightly too much to drink to the front of the group and lobbed her beautiful, buttercream, triple-chocolate devil’s food cake directly into Oliver’s face.
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