Chapter 11 #2
Callie braced herself but all he asked was, ‘Who’s Carrie?’
She giggled. ‘Get me another glass of champagne and I’ll tell you.’
Later, Callie lay in bed, sure she could still hear sounds from the party drifting down the hill on the breeze.
She stretched sensually, enjoying the cool cotton on her overheated skin and the buzzy feeling in her head.
She’d had a wonderful time. The food had been spectacular, no gastroenteritis-inducing half-cooked chicken thighs and burned sausages that were all too common at the barbecues she usually went to.
At the Starling party the bao buns oozed lobster, the pig roast was caramelised and succulent pulled pork, and there were platters of hundreds of handmade chocolates for pudding.
When Callie bit into her first, she met delicious vanilla ice cream and raspberry coulis.
The champagne flowed all evening, money apparently no object, and it all felt impossibly glamorous and more than slightly bonkers.
Johnny hadn’t left her side. They’d even danced, once the alcohol had hit and loosened the inhibitions, joined by Jessica, the older Starling children and, for a time the three aunts.
Then Becky and Maria, embarrassingly, had plucked petals off the hydrangea bushes and thrown them, humming ‘Here Comes the Bride’ until chased off by an exasperated Jessica.
Johnny fended off the most intrusive attentions of his enormous and eccentric family but, just as they were leaving, she’d heard his eldest sister, an imposing figure and a younger version of the abrasive Aunt Sybil, hiss at him, ‘She’ll do. I heartily approve, bro.’
Johnny had glowered at her, slung an arm around Callie’s shoulders and eased her through the crowds – how did the Starlings know all these people – to the gate and the track down to Sea Haven House.
They ambled down God Almighty Hill, Callie only slightly swaying. To her regret, Johnny had dropped his arm, which had tingled warmth on her skin and had retreated to the roadside of the pavement.
‘Here we are then. Home sweet home,’ Johnny said as he put the key in the lock of the front door. He paused and looked down at her again. ‘I hope– I hope it wasn’t all too much.’
She grinned up at him. ‘Of course it was too much. Too much food, far too much bubbly. Too much fun.’
‘I meant Sybil and Stella and the others.’
‘Well, Jessica does have an unusual style of dancing.’ She giggled. ‘I can’t believe she got me doing the Birdie Dance. And did my eyes deceive me or did your mother and Becky and Maria do a passable rendition of “Baby Love”?’
Johnny gave a rueful smile. ‘They were in a girl group once; they don’t let anyone forget it, but it’s not what I mean.’
Callie reached up and stilled his words by placing a finger on his lips.
‘I’d love to hear more about that sometime and I know that’s not what you meant.
I’m teasing.’ His face was illuminated by the porch light they’d left on to welcome them back and it lit his sharp features.
Puzzled why he seemed so tense, she added, ‘I think your family are wonderful. The party was too. I had a wonderful time.’ She stopped and laughed again.
‘Think the alcohol has clogged up my vocabulary. I haven’t drunk so much champagne in…
’ she stopped and gasped theatrically. ‘Since forever.’ Collapsing against the door, she smiled up at him, only half blearily.
‘Better get you to bed.’ Johnny sounded stone cold sober but had matched her drink for drink throughout the night. He must have a higher tolerance.
‘Sounds promising,’ Callie purred in what she hoped was a seductive manner, but which came out as a series of hiccoughs. Aghast, she clapped both hands over her mouth and prayed he hadn’t heard.
She hardly ever drank. As a single parent she was only too aware it was down to her and her alone should anything go amiss with Frida so had been forced to be boringly sober for years.
She had little head for alcohol, especially expensive champagne.
Her tipple was more likely to be cheap white plonk from the local Spar.
And there was always the fact that teaching with a raging hangover was the stuff of nightmares; it was a hard enough job as it was, let along attempting it without full control of your capacities. She’d learned that to her cost.
She let out a wavering but happy sigh. After a lifetime of being sensible, it had been good to let rip this evening. Felt as if she was rediscovering her youth. ‘Actually, I’m having the youth I never had,’ she murmured.
‘Sorry?’
‘Oh, did I say that out loud. I had a good time tonight. Thank you.’
He reached behind her, so close she could smell his skin, and opened the door. Disappointment fluttered inside as she realised there would be no goodnight kiss. Probably just as well though. Better to stay friends. Anything else was too complicated. She fell into the hall.
‘Water,’ Johnny said, reprovingly, helping her up. ‘And then bed.’
‘Yessir.’ Callie had saluted him, followed him into the kitchen where he’d poured her a pint of water and had let him guide her up the stairs. He’d said a curt goodnight, she’d shown her teeth the toothbrush and flopped into bed.
Sleep evaded. All her senses were tinglingly alive.
It had been a wonderful party. Listening to the faint sounds of the band still playing at Sandy Vistas and the occasional call of a gull as it swooped past her bedroom window and into the night, she giggled yet again.
Lullbury Bay parties were wild. Or at least the Starling family version of them were.
Had she glimpsed a woman in a clerical collar there?
Had that been Austin she’d spotted doing a wild okey-cokey with Dave from the Art School?
And had Johnny’s cousin Gilbert really requested the Stripper theme and stripped to his boxers?
Laughter gurgled up as scenes from the party flashbacked. It had all been such fun.
What was this strange emotion running through her? Happiness. She was happy. Pint of water ignored, she rolled over, sucked in a great gulp of soft salty night air and felt her eyes closing as she drifted off to the distant sounds of Black Lace’s ‘Agadoo’.