‘It’s for Bibi, isn’t it?’ she groaned, feeling stupid. ‘God, James, you are so annoying. Why wasn’t it down here with the rest of them?’

He grinned and tapped the address book on the coffee table. ‘These are the people ‘I need to look up.’ Then, pointing to the other slim stack of envelopes propped up on the fireplace, he added simply, ‘And these are the ones ‘I don’t.’

‘Does it give you a huge amount of pleasure to watch me make an idiot of myself?’

‘Huge isn’t the word for it.’

‘Is my card up there, then?’ said Dulcie, ever the optimist. ‘Ah,’ James’s grin broadened, ‘have to wait and see.’

They had another drink. By this time it was getting on for ten o’clock.

‘You’ll be so glad you did this,’ Dulcie told him reassuringly. ‘I mean it, when Bibi gets your card, she’ll be able to send you one back. Then you can either phone her or accidentally-onpurpose bump into her ... I can arrange that if you want me to, ‘I could have a—’

‘Dulcie, don’t you think you should give up on the arranging front?’ James commented drily.

‘Wouldn’t it be an idea to let people make their own arrangements from now on?’

Dulcie pulled a face. She was raring to go.

‘I know, ‘I know, but you men are so hopeless at this kind of stuff. If we leave it to you, you’ll take months to do anything. Trust me, do it my way and ‘I could have this whole thing sorted out by ... well, maybe even by Christmas!’

‘What if I don’t want it all sorted out by Christmas?’

‘You see?’ Dulcie was ready to explode with frustration. ‘That’s exactly what ‘I mean. James, please – oh!’

She gazed down at her car keys, which had just landed unexpectedly in her lap. James was putting on his jacket and looking masterful. He slid Bibi’s card into his inside pocket, switched off the television and indicated with a brief businesslike gesture that Dulcie should shift herself, pronto, in the direction of the front door.

Smiling at the uncomprehending look on her face, he said quietly, ‘What if I want to sort it out now?’

Three massive Scotches had given James just enough Dutch courage to do what he had been wanting to do for months. When Dulcie pulled up outside Bibi’s house for the second time that evening she leaned across and gave him a kiss on the cheek.

‘Go for it.’

‘Wish me luck.’

‘You don’t need luck. The two of you belong together.’

‘Yes, well. Thanks for the lift.’ James reached for the door catch before what felt like a nasty attack of stage fright could get a grip.

He appeared to be one Scotch short of total confidence. ‘Got the card?’ said Dulcie.

He patted his pocket.

‘Er ... yes.’

‘What a waste of a stamp.’

Beginning to panic, James wondered if this was wise. Maybe he should post the thing first after all.

Dulcie realised what was going on. He needed encouragement. Reaching past him, she flipped open the passenger door. And pushed him out.

There were lights on inside the house and Bibi’s car was there on the drive but nobody was answering the doorbell.

James began to feel sick. Did this mean she was too engrossed in the man who was in there with her to come to the door? Or that she had seen him climbing out of Dulcie’s car and was now hiding upstairs, cursing her daughter-in-law for getting it so spectacularly wrong again?

Dulcie had, of course, driven off and left him to it. To get home, he would have to flag down a passing cab. Taking a deep breath, James rang the doorbell one last time.

Finally, he heard the sound of footsteps running downstairs – ha, so she’d been in bed with him, had she? – and Bibi’s voice calling out, ‘Who is it?’

Should he? Shouldn’t he? James hesitated.

‘Hello, who’s there?’

Bloody Dulcie, taking off like a bat out of hell, leaving him stranded .. .

‘Bibi, it’s me.’

The door was flung open. Bibi stood in the doorway, visibly stunned.

She had been in the bath, James realised. Her ash-blonde hair was up in a loose topknot and damp tendrils framed her face. Her skin glowed from the heat of the bath and she was clutching the front of her white dressing gown with both hands, clinging to the lapels as if for dear life.

‘James! This is ... this is ...’

‘Unexpected. I know.’ He took a deep breath. Desperate to appear cool, he pulled the envelope from his inside pocket, realising too late that his hands were trembling. ‘Christmas card. Thought I’d deliver it in person.’

‘There’s a stamp on it.’

James smiled slightly. ‘I know, but what the hell. I was passing.’

Peering over his shoulder, Bibi said, ‘Where’s your car?’

‘Ah... ‘I was passing in someone else’s car.’

He couldn’t tear his eyes from her face. She didn’t look a day older than she’d ever looked. God, she was beautiful .. .

‘Well, it’s nice to see you again.’ Bibi knew she sounded like a travel agent greeting an old customer. She hesitated, at a complete loss. Did James mean he was literally dropping the card off before jumping back into someone else’s car – whoever Someone Else might be – or could she invite him in for a drink?

‘Gosh, this is a coincidence!’ Her heart was pounding. Confused, she heard herself beginning to babble. ‘You’ll never guess who else ‘I bumped into today! Extraordinary really, after all this time—’

‘Dulcie,’ said James. Bibi was as nervous as he was. Quite suddenly he knew everything was going to be all right. ‘I was passing in Dulcie’s car.’

Bibi closed her eyes for a second, and leaned her head against the door. When she opened her eyes once more, she said shakily, ‘That girl, don’t tell me. I suppose she’s been interfering again.’

James smiled and nodded and moved towards Bibi. He cupped her face in his hands and said in a low voice, ‘Oh yes, she’s been interfering again.’

As Bibi fell into his arms and lifted her mouth to his, she murmured back, ‘Thank God ...’

Chapter 54

You knew a lot had happened in the last year, Dulcie thought wryly, when the first person to greet you at a party, shouting, ‘Oh brilliant, you’re here!’ was Imelda.

But that was life for you. Since Liam had become a thing of the past, it had seemed a bit pointless carrying on such high-octane rivalry. Neither Dulcie nor Imelda had had the heart to maintain their feud. Some men, they decided, simply weren’t worth it.

‘Mwah mwah.’ Imelda clutched her now, air-kissing both cheeks and looking overjoyed to see her. ‘Quick, take your coat off and I’ll buy you a drink. You’re missing out on all the fun ... I’ve just met the most gorgeous chap ...’

It was still weird, though. Definitely weird.

But having been promised by Eddie that this year’s Christmas Eve party at Brunton Manor would be the best ever, Dulcie had felt obliged to turn up. Her half-hearted attempt at an excuse had been briskly squashed by Pru.

‘Don’t be silly, of course you’re coming,’ she had scolded. ‘And don’t give me any rubbish about wanting to avoid Liam because he won’t even be there. He’s skiing in Zermatt.’

In the end Dulcie had decided to make the best of it. Sometimes you just had to put on your party face and best frock, drum up a bit of enthusiasm and go for it. Maybe – who knows? – if she tried hard enough, she might end up having a good time after all.

It was already ten o’clock; she was one of the late arrivals. Pausing at the entrance to the packed ballroom, Dulcie surveyed the throng. Imelda, having barged on ahead, was over at the bar buying drinks and flirting outrageously with a huge fair-haired rugby type. All the bar staff were wearing furry antlers. The ballroom had been decked out in silver and white and the DJ was wearing a Father-Christmas-meetsJean-Paul-Gaultier fur-trimmed red PVC cape and matching jockstrap.

The dance floor bulged with guests leaping around like lunatics to Slade’s ‘Merry Christmas Everybody’. Bellowing out the few words they knew, they were clearly well away.

Dulcie felt horribly sober. She hoped Imelda was getting her a large one.

Pru, spotting her from the dance floor, came over and gave her a hug. The difference with real friends, thought Dulcie, was their kisses actually touched your cheeks.

‘Thank goodness, I thought you weren’t coming,’ Pru yelled above the noise.

Dulcie smiled. ‘Oh no, I’m here. With my new best friend.’

Pru glanced over her shoulder, in the direction of Dulcie’s brief nod. Imelda was making her way towards them with two glasses held triumphantly aloft.

‘Hmm. Just so long as you don’t forget your old best friends.’

‘Don’t worry.’ Dulcie’s tone was dry; Imelda had phoned her up three times in the last week.

‘She’s single, I’m single. She’s only doing it because she’s desperate for someone to go around with.’

‘Here we are!’ Imelda plonked a brimming glass into Dulcie’s hand. ‘Cheers! Look, I’ll be back in a sec, okay? That dishy guy over at the bar’s just asked me to dance.’

Dulcie wondered if a grown man sporting a bow tie that lit up and spun around like a Catherine wheel could ever truly be described as a dish.

‘Is that the gorgeous one you were talking to earlier?’

‘No, I’ve lost him.’ Imelda shrugged and grinned. ‘Never mind, this one will do nicely until ‘I find him again.’ Her eyes lit up. ‘He’s a doctor, too. Dreamy or what?’

‘I bet he’s a porter,’ said Dulcie. ‘Porters always tell girls they’re doctors.’ Unable to resist the dig, she added, ‘What did the other one tell you he was? Airline pilot, polo player or something in the SAS?’

Imelda wrinkled her nose.

‘Bit of a disappointment, actually. He said he was unemployed.’

‘I spoke to Liza this afternoon,’ said Dulcie when Imelda had sashayed off. ‘Couldn’t persuade her to come along. She’s driving down to Devon tonight, spending Christmas and New Year with her parents.’