Seductive Viennese Whirl (36 page)

"So he's a bit insecure, I think it's kind of sweet."

"No, you don't understand. What's to stop him losing it again? I mean, I'm in an even worse position now than I was in then. You saw how jealous he was when he followed me to Austria after reading those letters in my room and finding out I'd had it off with the Count."

"It was a bit OTT. You weren't even together when you had your fling."

She looks terrified. "I know, but that's the way it felt to him. Like a betrayal. He's told me before that he's worried I'll cheat on him again after we're married. And now it looks like he's done a runner and-"

"Are you sure it's not you who's having second thoughts? Maybe you don't want to go through with it? A lifetime of five minute experiences isn't exactly something to look forward to."

"Actually," she says, "we started seeing the therapist again after Christmas and we've recently had a bit of a breakthrough on that front. He sometimes even manages to last enough to cook, oh I don't know, what takes half an hour?"

"A soufflé?"

We clutch each other and laugh. I don't know why we're laughing, only that it feels good and that Eva no longer looks terrified. We only stop once Lola's come in to tell us huffily that we really must be heading to the church. When we arrive I push open the heavy wooden doors and leave Lola and Eva to join the rest of the bridesmaids who are having a last primp from Paula. I push past them, enter the church and sneeze.

Bits of pollen are suspended in the shafts of light streaming in through the stained glass windows. I continue to sneeze as my feet sink into a springy mass of plant matter. Looking down I make out blue delphiniums, orange tiger lilies and red and purple peonies, strewn beneath my feet and down the aisle, a foot deep. It had sounded intriguing when Eva told me about Paula's design concept of installing a flower carpet that would fill the church with a ‘hum of colour'. Unfortunately, the flower carpet already looks more like a land fill site than a cutting edge floral display, since the flowers have been stomped on within in an inch of their lives. Some of them are decomposing and beginning to pong. I hope this isn't a bad omen for Eva's marriage, as I squelch my way into the last row, past Demetrios and sit down beside Sparky, mercifully wearing the Marks & Spencer's outfit, not the kaftan, and feel a lump in my throat begin to swell as the organ music strikes up the Wedding March.

Sparky nudges me and hands me a tissue. We both start tearing up. But pretty soon we realize we're a bit premature because although it's twenty past, McManus is nowhere to be seen. Eva and her entourage are gathered a few feet away, behind the swing doors. The smaller bridesmaids can be heard whining impatiently every time Eva's dad pushes his way through the church doors, like a cowboy stomping his way into a saloon, looking more and more irate every time he sees McManus hasn't arrived. I can't bear to think of Eva, her stomach in knots, wondering if McManus has skipped out on the wedding. What if she's right? What if he really has had second thoughts?

And then McManus rushes in from a side entrance, and falteringly makes his way up to the altar, to the accompaniment of a round of applause from the audience and some rowdy cheering. He slips once on the slimy plant matter, causing everyone to laugh their heads off, before skidding to a hault at the altar. I can overlook the fact that his hair is a mess and his kilt has a stain on it, as long as he doesn't start bellowing to all and sundry that the wedding's been cancelled because his fiancée makes him feel sexually inadequate.

Luckily, he doesn't say a word, just stands there, gawping at Eva as she comes towards him. Lola has a hungry look in her eyes, which never leave McManus while he's saying his vows. Eva told me he's known her since they were kids and that there'd been an understanding between them that they would marry one day, a promise he reneged on when he met Eva.

At the final kiss, Sparky and I collapse into each other's arms for a good sob. Then we stagger out into the fine drizzle, and as I'm being escorted to my chauffeur driven car, a crowd of press photographers almost knocks me over in their haste to clamber up the church steps and start blasting their flashlights in the happy couple's face.

Back inside the Glynverstowe Estate, you would be hard pressed to know you're in Scotland. The grand hall has been transformed into a copper dome, imbedded with silver stars. I roam about, looking to see among which gaggle of sexy singles Eva's planted me, and am aghast to find my name tag on a table that includes Sparky, Demetrios and an ancient aunt of Eva's. She may as well have gone the whole hog and made me wear a placard all night with 'Social Leper' written on it, I think, sitting down and pouring myself a large glass of white wine.

While I'm sipping away I have a quick glance around the room for eligible bachelors. The few attractive guys I see also have girlfriends hanging off their arms, so I sigh resignedly and spend the next hour listening to Eva's aunt ramble on while a dignified old man plucks at a sitar on a stage at the end of the hall. He sits beside a vacant golden throne, which becomes occupied when McManus and Eva finally make it back. McManus apologizes that the photography took so long, and then ruins it by saying there's more to come. Ushers arrange us in groups flanking the throne, which ends up taking about three days. By the end of it my jaw's aching with all the smiling I've had to do.

The tantalizing smell of spicy food hangs in the air and I can hardly wait to tuck into it, but instead we all give forced laughs while some chum of McManus' gives the longest and unfunniest best man's speech in the history of long and unfunny best man's speeches. I'm about to fall under the table with hunger, when at last he stops talking and the grub arrives. I dig into the Chicken Tikka, Potato Biriani, Prawn Masala and Papadums, while Eva's aunt keeps up a steady stream of complaint. "When we went to weddings after the War if you got a spam sandwich and a cup of tea you were grateful none of this foreign muck what's wrong with English food anyway that's what I'd like to know it's such a shame a lovely girl like Eva marrying a Scot they're alcoholics the whole damn lot of them everyone knows that…" Eventually her chatter is curtailed when the stars on the inside of the dome open like trap doors, disgorging a flurry of gold glitter. Mirror balls extend from the ceiling and the room is flooded with darkness. To the strains of ‘
Boogie Wonderland
' coloured strobes start to flash. I leave Eva's aunt brushing glitter out of her hair, as swathes of guests crowd the dance floor.

Because I can't see anyone else I know, I start bopping beside Demetrios and Sparky. Which is fine, until Demetrios masterfully crushes her to his breast and they start doing some dirty dancing that makes me feel like I'm going to lose my Prawn Masala. Mercifully, I notice that Eva's coming towards me, stalking through the crowd like a woman on a mission.

"How'd you like Auntie?"

"Sorry Eva, I know she's your relative but she's nuttier than squirrel shit."

Eva chuckles. "I put her beside you as a warning. You'll end up bitter and twisted, just like her, unless you …"

"Unless I what?"

"Learn to live a little." She gives me a meaningful look and starts flailing her arms around like a mad thing. Once she's on a dance floor she really doesn't give a damn what she looks like. She's shaking her head wildly, so that soon the gems from the bindi on her forehead are dropping off.

"Ravi would have loved all this," I say.

"I did send him an invitation, but I guess he couldn't afford to fly over. I can't wait until the film's released. Although I know I'll have to cover my eyes every time I come on."

"Don't be daft. You'll be brilliant." I squint against the strobes, catching sight of a pregnant dancing woman who looks suspiciously like the Haddock. Beside her is a scraggly little man, shuffling awkwardly from side to side, who keeps tweaking his beard.

I point her out to Eva.

"What's she doing here?"

"McManus invited her. And that must be the father of the unborn Haddock."

"Shit, they're coming over."

"Eva darling," says the Haddock, grabbing Eva by the wrist. "It almost killed me, you resigning like that. So unexpected." Then she turns to me and says, "Don't you go quitting on me now, Kate."

Her bottom lip wobbles and it almost looks like she's crying. But she can't be, because the Haddock hasn't got emotions. It must be a bit of glitter catching the light.

"Take care," she says, kissing Eva on the cheek, before hurrying off, Beard Man in tow.

After the shock of seeing the Haddock I feel a bit faint, so I start looking for the toilet, which Eva tells me is just off the hall. It takes me forever to peer behind all the pale blue sheets of shimmery fabric suspended curtain-like from the ceiling. Eventually I find it, and go in and splash my face with cold water. Sinking back into a sofa and touching up my lipstick I decide to hole up in here for a while, when suddenly a cubicle door opens and Lola bursts out with the Weasel in tow. She kisses him on the neck, while at the same time wiping away a stray trace of white powder from under his nose. As if sharing some great cosmic joke they start laughing hysterically, until they see me.

"Hey," says the Weasel giving me a glassy gaze. "What happened to you the other night?"

Although it's finally dawned on me that the Weasel is a bit of a wanker I can't quite admit to myself that I made a massive error of judgement when I succumbed to his charms the second time around. Seeing him reminds me that it's high time I got even.

"I'm sorry," I say sweetly. "I did mean to come back and unlock you, but I guess it slipped my mind. How'd you get the cuffs off?"

"I called a locksmith," he says matter of factly. "It's pretty knackering, dragging a drumkit across the floor to get to the phone, you know?" He chuckles. Lola smiles and gnashes her teeth together.

The Weasel is a tough nut to crack, no doubt about it. But everyone has their breaking point, even someone whose embarrassment threshold is as ludicrously high as his. I wrack my brain trying to think what his weak spot could be. From our cosy little chats about our sexual fantasies I know he isn't averse to a sound spanking. But I also got a sense that he might also have a hankering for the stronger stuff too. What if I made out that on that night (which he evidently can't recall) I broke through his inhibitions and indulged his deepest, darkest fantasies?

Reckoning it's worth a go I say, "Well, you certainly had the stamina that night. You can handle a lot, what with the nipple clamps and the hot wax. When you started howling at the end I thought I'd gone too far. I wasn't too hard on you with the cat-o'nine-tails I hope?"

He gulps. I wait, chewing on the inside of my cheek to stop myself cracking up. Any moment now my words will finally penetrate his drug-frazzled brain and he'll realize I've just told Lola he's a wackjob with a bottomless tolerance for pain.

"Is this true?" says Lola, her eyes bugging out of her head. Ah, now we're getting somewhere.

He nods. "The rougher the better as far as I'm concerned. She certainly knows her stuff."

He looks at Lola and grins. She starts to laugh, a sound like a donkey braying. As she pulls him past me she hisses, "You couldn't dominate a fly, you silly little girl."

They disappear out the door and I'm left feeling like a total idiot. Shit. If only I'd thought it through before shooting my mouth off. Even if he couldn't remember what happened that night he would have known that we didn't dabble in hardcore S&M, because clamps and wax and whippings leave
marks
. Still royally pissed of at being outwitted by the Weasel I slam through the door and get tangled up in the sheet of fabric hanging outside. After much twisting and turning I manage to prise myself loose. I'm just smoothing down my hair when a guy walks past who looks very familiar.

Alex!

He's looking achingly handsome in a orangey-rust coloured suit. Suddenly I can't breathe, and this time I don't think it's the dress.

"Shit. What are you doing here?"

"That's quite a welcome."

"I'm sorry. It's just that I didn't expect to see you here. In fact, I didn't expect to see you ever again. Were you at the dinner?"

"No. I just got here. Guess I wanted to check that my wine had arrived safely."

"Of course, you're providing the wine." How on earth had I forgotten?

He's running his eyes over my body appreciatively. "You look, you look, different. Have you lost weight?"

"Um, yeah."

"Well, it suits you."

"Talking of suits, that's a nice one," I say, my fingers stroking his lapel. "Feels expensive." He flinches and I drop my hand to my side.

I'm beginning to feel like he might be as nutty as Eva's aunt when he blurts, "I don't mind you touching me, I mean my suit. It's just that … Oh God, this is really embarrassing."

"What?" I say, taking a step towards him because he's hard to hear over the disco music.

"I got it at Armani. God knows what possessed me. I can't afford it, and now I'm terrified of getting a stain on it because I'm planning to return it as soon as I get back."

"Well, don't worry. I don't have sticky fingers." Nice line, Kate.

He starts jiggling his shoulders in time with the beat and smiling. Gesturing with his head for me to follow he leads me through the crowd and once he's found a minute gap on the dance floor he starts to dance. I'm not usually a bad dancer but for the first few songs my legs feel heavy as lead and I can't seem to make them follow the rhythm. But eventually I get in synch with his movements, which are smooth and loose and understated. And then I forget myself, forget him, forget that I've spent the past hundred nights or so tossing about in bed thinking about him. It's only when I feel someone crash against my shoulder that I break out of my trance.

"Sten!" I shriek, giving him a big kiss.

As he's swaying a little, he balances himself by draping an arm around my neck. While blasting my face with brandy fumes he bellows, "I'm afraid I've been rather overdoing the free drinks. But what the heck, I'm having a good time, that's the main thing." Then, noticing Alex, he undrapes himself and smoothes down his hair. "Who's your friend?" he slurs in my ear.