Last of the Great Romantics (42 page)

Daisy was astonished at how well she was taking it. 'I just wanted to say I'm really sorry, Julia. I mean for all the hard work you put in. You must be devastated at the way things have turned out.'

'Why would I be devastated?' Julia plonked a particularly stunning arrangement of white lilies on a windowsill in the Yellow Drawing Room and looked at Daisy as if she were a bit simple-minded.

'Well, I'd be bloody raging. For starters, look at all the money the magazine spent, not to mention the cost of putting all the Oldcastle gang up here and then there's the food—'

'You know, sometimes I'm inclined to forget how inexperienced you are in the ways of the world, Daisy. Why do you think
Gotcha
magazine wanted to buy out the wedding in the first place?'

'So they could get fabulous pictures of Eleanor and Mark and the ceremony and then the knees-up in the tent afterwards,' she answered, wondering if Julia had finally lost it.

'With the ultimate goal of?' Julia could sound unbelievably schoolmarmish when she chose to.

'Emm, selling magazines, I suppose.'

'Clever girl. And can you imagine how many they'll sell now? I would conservatively guess about six times the number they would have sold had the wedding gone ahead. This is going to be one of the biggest news stories of the year, never mind the gossip column aspect of it. And we have full spin control. For God's sake, an hour after I was finished on the phone, tipping off every editor in London and Dublin, it was the lead item on Sky News. And 'who's going to have the exclusive photos they'll all be bidding for?'

'Oh, I get it,
Gotcha
magazine,' said Daisy, the light finally dawning on her.

'Precisely. Wait until this issue hits the stands, it'll be their biggest seller until Prince William gets married and how long is that going to take? Joshua Byron-Smyth must be pinching himself. No, this is a win-win situation for all concerned. Can you imagine how fantastic this will be for my business? My God, royalty will
beg
me to plan their weddings after this. And as for all the spin-off publicity that Davenport Hall will get, well, you can just consider it a little farewell gift from you to me.'

It wasn't hard to see what she meant. By the time Daisy got back to the reception desk, the place was thronged with hung-over guests trying to check out and get to the airport while Joshua and Liz frantically photographed them and posed last-minute questions.

'Tell us, Shakira, is it fair to say that you were devastated at what happened here earlier today?'

'Yeah, I was, I was crying and all, weren't I, darlin'?' she said to her husband Ryan as she beamed at the camera and looked about as far from devastated as it was possible to be.

'That's great, thank you, if you could just put your arm around your husband and pose for us here, beside the mantelpiece? Lovely, that's looooovely. So what do you think is the worst aspect of the wedding being called off?'

Shakira's kilowatt smile didn't budge. 'Well, when I was gonna get married first time round, my fella, my ex I mean, called the whole thing off with just a few days to go, didn't he? So I can totally sympathize with what poor Eleanor's going through. And definitely the worst part of it is that you don't get to keep the presents nor nothing. Everything's gotta go back, don't it?'

'Yeah, she's dead right,' Falcon chipped in, their rivalry forgotten as they vied for camera time. 'But at least I get to take the present what I bought her home with me. I'm really pleased, cos I went to shitloads of trouble to pick out something dead classy. Practical too.'

'What did you buy?' asked Joshua, scribbling away.

'A tiara.'

'Everything OK?' Daisy asked Amber, relieved that the Oldcastle girls were too busy posing to bother recognizing her from the other night.

'Absolutely under control. We'll have this lot checked out in no time. Just one thing, there's a surprise for you in the office.'

'A surprise?'

'Just someone I think you'll be pleased to see.'

Puzzled, Daisy slipped behind the reception desk and opened the office door. Could it be Simon? she wondered. A millisecond later, she brushed the thought aside. Course not. Why would he want to see me? she thought. After the complete and utter holy show I made of myself the other night? Yeah, OK, he had been really sweet all day yesterday, calling her room, coaxing her downstairs, making her laugh, but that was all probably because he felt sorry for her. And, of course, for his best friend Eleanor's sake. He's probably beating the door down to get away from Davenport Hall, and who could blame him?

Funny, but this disappointed her.

'Hello, darling.'

The one person, apart from Simon, who could put the beam back on her face.

'Portia!' Daisy flung herself at her big sister and almost sent her flying. 'I can't believe you're back! Oh, this is so fantastic; you're the best thing that's happened all bloody day. So how was the Big Apple? And where's Andrew?'

Portia gently released her grip and wearily sat down again. 'Not right now, OK? I'll tell you sometime, just not right now.'

Chapter Twenty-Eight

'You see? My premonitions always come out right, you know. I knew with absolute certainty that something was going to bugger up the wedding today. Whenever I wake up singing the theme tune to
Dallas,
I always know there's sure to be trouble ahead.' Lucasta was plonked at her piano in the Long Gallery, happily entertaining anyone who was hanging around or hadn't checked out yet, namely Eleanor, Robert, Simon, Daisy and a few other wedding guests who were quite happy to stay on in the luxurious surroundings of the Hall for one extra night.

'Shame ya didn't ring Ladbroke's and stick a bet on then, ya roaring eejit,' said Mrs Flanagan, who was over at the bar with Shelley-Marie, still in their wedding clobber and helping Gorgeous George to keep everyone's drink freshened. It was wild and stormy outside and the Long Gallery was cosy and snug, with a huge log fire crackling away at the far end of the room.

Eleanor particularly was in great spirits, laughing and joking with Simon and Daisy. The only time she betrayed herself with the merest hint of a blush was when Jasper came bounding into the room with, of all people, Buffy Tompkinson in tow.

He made a beeline for Daisy and winked at the others surreptitiously. 'Come here to me, young one,' he said to her with a glint in his twinkly blue eyes. 'Do you remember I said I had a bit of a surprise for you? Well, here it is. Or rather, here she is.'

Daisy looked incredulously from Jasper to Buffy and for a split second thought: oh Jesus, don't tell me they're a couple? Could this day get any weirder?

Led by Jasper, Buffy then tottered the length of the Gallery in her impossible high heels to where Mrs Flanagan was standing behind the bar. With someone else who'd far rather never have set eyes on her again.

'Shelley-Marie! It's so good to see ya, darlin', look at you, you look a million dollars! You're just like Madonna, you are, a mistress of reinvention. Well, well! Aren't ya going to give your old flatmate a great big hug? Don't ya recognize me then, love? It's me, it's your old mate Buffy!'

There was a silence broken only by the tinkling of ice in Lucasta's gin and tonic.

'Oh, I am looking forward to having a good old catchup then.' Buffy hauled herself up on to a bar stool and settled herself down. She seemed totally oblivious to the fact that Shelley-Marie was glowering at her like something nasty she'd just trod on. 'When I first met Shelley-Marie, she was already famous, ya know,' Buffy kept chattering as she helped herself to a glass of champagne, 'and I was the unknown, if ya could believe that. You'd starred in, what was it called again?'

She shot an enquiring glance over at her old flatmate, who made absolutely no attempt whatsoever to enlighten her, but just stared ahead, with her smile set firmly in place.

'Oh, now I remember!' Buffy went on, loving that Jasper and Daisy, not to mention a roomful of other people, were hanging on her every word. 'You played the lead in
In Diana Jones and the Temple of Poon. Yeah,
that was it.'

'I saw that,' Jasper interrupted. 'It was our Friday night movie for a whole month when I was inside. I knew I'd seen your face somewhere before. Never forget a face.'

Shelley-Marie flashed an automatic smile at him, but her eyes remained like slits of pure white rage.

'Oh, but then we went on to make dozens of movies together, didn't we, love?' Buffy chirruped on, happily knocking back her champagne. 'All the classics, we done.
Shitty Shitty Gang Bang, Good Will Humping, Glad He Ate Her, Lord of my Ring, A Tale of Two Titties.
And you were always such a good actor, with all those accents you could do? Mind you, the one you're putting on now is pretty good and all, isn't it? You'd never, ever think you were from Boston. Not in a million years.'

'Thank you for reminding me, Buffy. I think you've made your point now.' Shelley-Marie's voice cut like ice. 'It was mighty nice to see you'all again, but I think we really should be getting back to the Salon. I promised my darlin' Mrs Flanagan a full leg wax and I sure do hate to disappoint the elderly.' She rose and was about to go when Jasper stopped her.

'One more thing before you go.' Then, turning back to Buffy, he said, 'I reckon now's as good a time as any.'

Buffy put her drink down and shook her head theatrically, an actress whose moment had come. 'Poor old Isabelle's been calling me night and bleeding day, so she has. She's worried sick about ya, Sheldon. Wants to know when you're coming home.'

'Sheldon?' asked Daisy, on the edge of her seat as Shelley-Marie turned as white as was possible under the thick layer of false tan she was wearing.

'Oh sorry, you see when I met Shelley-Marie first, it was before the operation, so I knew her as Sheldon, didn't I, love? But I'm still great mates with his— Oh sorry, I mean
her
wife, Isabelle. Well, why would I let a little fing like you having a sex change get in the way of a good friendship? I mean, what's a bit of gender identity disorder between friends?'

Ten minutes later, Daisy almost skipped up to the bar, feeling that the weight of the world had been lifted from her shoulders. She was just about to shout in her order to Gorgeous George when Buffy sidled up. Impulsively, Daisy hugged her. 'I really don't know how to even start thanking you for helping us out like this,' she said. 'As far as I'm concerned, you're an angel come from heaven.'

'Oh, it's all right, love,' said Buffy. 'She's not the worst, old Sheldon, I mean Shelley-Marie. I don't blame you a bit for really thinking she was a woman. That surgeon worked miracles. The only giveaway is all them scarves she wears to cover her Adam's apple. But I gotta tell you, she has got a heart of gold, you know. And she's a decent old skin, really. Apart from the bigamy I mean. Isn't it funny, though, that your old dad never twigged she was a post-op.'

Daisy winced at the thought. Given the state Blackjack was probably in, it was a small wonder he never copped on. 'He passed on shortly after they got married,' was all she said.

'Just as well. The shock woulda probably killed him anyway, wouldn't it? But I really just wanted to see if you were OK, love, after what happened at the party after the match.'

Daisy looked at her, wondering what the state of play was between her and Alessandro. 'It'll take me a while to get over it,' she answered.

'Mark and Alessandro are just a pair of boyos, that's all. They both love a bit, if ya know what I mean.'

Daisy couldn't help herself. 'But isn't Alessandro your boyfriend? Doesn't it bother you that he jumped into bed with me that night?'

'No, not really, love. How do you fink I met him in the first place?'

Meanwhile, Jasper was still at the bar, talking to a very shell-shocked Shelley-Marie. 'The way I see it now,' he was patiently explaining, 'there's an easy way to do this and there's a hard way. The easy way is a bit like this. You say nothing and we say nothing to no one about anything. You just pack your bags and leave the Hall and go back to your wife, or not as the case may be, and that's an end to all this, with no questions asked. The hard way isn't quite as pleasant for you, I'm sorry to say. We're talking about dragging in the cops, not just in this country, but in the States too, and there'd be a whole lot of crap bandied about, making life awkward for all of us, but mainly yourself, I'm afraid. Bigamy on top of a same-sex marriage is a felony in the state of Nevada, just the same as it is here, and I can tell you from bitter experience that life inside would most definitely not be for you. So what do you choose?'

With her highly developed sense of survival, Shelley-Marie naturally chose the former and the deal was done.

'Well, who'd have thought it,' said Lucasta, who'd been glued to the unfolding drama like it was a double episode of
EastEnders.
'Shelley-Marie is really a man! Blackjack married a bloke! Oh how funny, darlings. Do you know, I think I'll pop round and visit his remains in the Mausoleum tomorrow and maybe leave out a nice bottle of whisky and a deck of cards for the old bollocks. As a thank you for giving me the best laugh I've had in years. The only thing I'm sorry about is that he bloody well went and died before he realized.'