Dithering mentally, she decided it would be safe to tell him the truth. He and Bibi were otherwise engaged tonight, after all.

‘It’s a surprise party for Patrick,’ Dulcie explained. ‘At Brunton Manor. All very last minute,’

she added hastily, so as not to offend him. ‘I only decided to do it yesterday. And yes, of course you’re both invited. Eight o’clock tonight, it’s going to be great ... Patrick doesn’t have a clue ...’

She beamed up at James, waiting for him to frown and say, ‘Damn, we won’t be able to make it.’

Instead, beaming back at her, he said, ‘That’s terrific. Look, we’ve got a couple of dinner guests but they’ll be gone by ten. They have to catch the last train to Oxford. What we’ll do is drop them at the station and drive straight over. Better late than never, eh?’

Dulcie was by this time dithering in earnest. If she was going to conjure up a plausible excuse –

a reason why James and Bibi couldn’t possibly come to Patrick’s party – she had to do it in the next few milliseconds.

She stared up at James, wide-eyed and in desperate need of inspiration .. .

Bong. Too late.

James looked concerned.

‘Are you all right, Dulcie?’

‘Er ... um ...’

‘Come on, you must have everything you need by now.’ Taking control of her piled-up trolley, he began steering it in the direction of the checkouts. ‘The least I can do is help you load this lot into your car.’

Dulcie emptied the food on to the conveyor belt and James stood at the other end packing it into bags far more efficiently than she could have done.

The solution came to her as she was unloading the last armful of French sticks.

It was simple. All she had to do was phone Bibi and warn her. Then Bibi could either plead exhaustion or feign sudden illness.

Sudden illness might be better, then James would be worried about her. This meant he wouldn’t leave Bibi at home and come along to the party by himself.

Dulcie glanced across at him, still diligently packing bags at the other end of the checkout. That was the thing about James, he was considerate. Kind. Devoted to Bibi.

He really was a lovely man.

If Bibi could only bring herself to tell him her dark secret, they could marry.

Inspiration, like a bolt of lightning, struck for the second time. In that moment Dulcie knew what she had to do. Because Bibi never would tell James.

The answer had to be, therefore, to let James find out for himself.

And what better place for it to happen than at a party, when everyone was already in carefree party mood ... and where Bibi’s little white lie could be laughed off?

Dulcie knew she was right. It was a brilliant solution. James would know the truth at last and it wouldn’t make a scrap of difference to his feelings for Bibi. And Bibi would be so relieved. And grateful.

I was meant to bump into James today, Dulcie decided.

Everything happens for a reason. This is fate, taking a hand.

‘I’ve had an idea,’ she told James as they loaded the green and white carrier bags into the boot of the car. ‘Bibi doesn’t know yet about the party. Don’t tell her, okay?’

James looked amused. ‘Why not?’

‘It’ll be more fun! Just say it’s a wedding anniversary do for friends of yours and bring her along.’ Dulcie’s eyes were shining. ‘Then, when you walk in, it’ll be extra special. A double surprise.’

Pru had worked flat out all afternoon. At five o’clock, having done as much as she could, she jumped into the bath. By six she was dressed and ready. All she had to do now was load the food into the car, take it over to Brunton Manor and help Dulcie lay everything out.

She phoned Phil’s office but he was out.

‘Showing a client around a few properties,’ said Janet, his secretary. ‘Try him on his mobile.’

No joy there either; the mobile was switched off. Instead, Pru scribbled a note explaining what had happened and left it on the kitchen table. When Phil came home he could shower and change and follow her down to the club in his own time.

In one way, Pru was glad the food crisis had arisen. Coming to the rescue as she had meant Dulcie would be so grateful she wouldn’t dare say anything awful about Phil. She knew she had Dulcie’s solemn promise not to anyway, but a little extra emotional blackmail never went amiss.

Dulcie was already there when Pru staggered into the banqueting hall with her arms full of salad bowls.

‘Hey, you look fab!’ Rushing across, she helped Pru unload and gave her a hug. ‘And these look brilliant too. You are an angel. Honestly, Pru, that git of a husband of yours doesn’t deserve you.’

Pru leapt away as if she’d been electrocuted.

‘If you’re going to start—’

‘I’m not, I’m not.’ Dulcie grabbed her back and kissed her noisily on both cheeks. ‘It’s okay, I’m just getting it out of my system before jerk-of-the-year turns up.’ She grinned. ‘Would I say anything to upset you when you’ve done all this for me?’

Probably.

‘Not if you don’t want a bowl of rice salad over your head,’ said Pru.

‘Anyway,’ Dulcie changed the subject, ‘you do look fab. Love the dress.’

Pru was pleased. The white silk jersey was clingier than her usual style but as ever she had been too afraid of hurting the sales assistant’s feelings to walk out of the shop without it. Now she was glad she’d been a wimp. Dulcie and the sales girl had been right; it was a great dress.

‘Love yours too,’ said Pru, cheering up. ‘And the hair. Very chic.’

Pink-faced and shiny from her exertions, Dulcie was wearing an orange sweatshirt over a lime-green elongated vest. Her short hair stuck up at weird angles and she had a shopping list scrawled in mauve felt-tip up one arm.

She checked her watch.

‘Half six. I’d better get a move on. Look, can you finish putting everything out? Liza’s promised to turn up before seven thirty and everyone else has orders to be here by eight. I’ll arrive with Patrick just after eight. Any problems, give me a ring.’

‘Right.’ Pru was struck by the look of excitement on her friend’s face. She smiled. ‘You can’t wait, can you?’

‘I promise you,’ Dulcie declared dramatically, ‘this is going to be a night to remember. And whatever happens, don’t get drunk and pass out before ten o’clock.’ Her green eyes sparkled.

‘There are going to be a couple of late arrivals. Call it a special guest appearance.’

‘Who?’

The temptation to confide in Pru was overwhelming. Manfully, Dulcie held back. Instead she held a finger to her lips.

‘Ssh, not another word. Top secret.’ She winked at Pru. ‘After all, if you’re having a party, why settle for one surprise when you can have two?’

Eddie Hammond wasn’t a great one for examining his reflection but in the aerobics studio, which was mirrored from floor to ceiling on three sides, he didn’t have a lot of choice. While he waited to speak to Diana, Brunton’s terrifyingly fit aerobics instructor, he studied himself without much enthusiasm in the nearest of the mirrored walls.

Terrifyingly unfit was the phrase that sprang to mind.

Or maybe overweight, overstressed and over forty.

Eddie tried sucking in his stomach but all it did was make him feel dizzy, since you couldn’t suck in your stomach and breathe at the same time.

He gave up, combed his fingers through his greying hair instead, briefly closed his baggy eyes and mopped his perspiring forehead with a handkerchief. No wonder he looked harassed, he thought gloomily. Who wouldn’t be, faced with a day like this, his first crisis since moving down to Bath and taking over the running of Brunton Manor two months earlier? His staff were still dropping like flies, the health inspector was on his tail, the publicity could be disastrous for the club .. .

Eddie’s smile was rueful. It was no good, he could go on making excuses until he was blue in the face but he couldn’t get away from the fact that stress or no stress, this was the way he looked.

This was him. He was unfit, overweight and over forty. Okay, forty-five.

Let’s face it, he was no Jean-Claude van Damme.

A flash of lime green and orange made Eddie jump. Dulcie, whose reflection he had glimpsed in one of the other mirrors, stopped and stuck her head around the glass door.

‘Everything okay?’ Eddie prayed she hadn’t tracked him down in order to report some new catastrophe.

But Dulcie, thank God, was grinning.

‘No problems. All under control,’ she told Eddie, entertained by the sight of him studying his own reflection as intently as any teenager. ‘The rest of the food’s being set out and I’m off home for a bath. Didn’t know you’d signed up,’ Dulcie added.

‘Signed up?’ Eddie frowned. ‘For what?’

‘One of Diana’s aerobics classes.’ She winked. ‘I can’t wait to see you in a leotard.’

Amused, Eddie said, ‘There’s about as much chance of that as of seeing you in one.’

As he spoke, Diana and the next scheduled class spilled out of the changing room, heading down the corridor towards the studio. Dulcie, who lived in terror of waking up and finding out she’d got drunk the night before and signed up for one of Diana’s classes, said, ‘Help, Cruella’s coming. I’ll see you later.’ She waggled her fingers at Eddie. ‘And cheer up, okay? Everything’s fine. It’s going to be a night to remember.’

Chapter 7

The great advantage of surprise parties, Pru discovered with some relief, was the way they got everyone there on time. Instead of having to endure that awkward first couple of hours of guests trickling in, all leaving it as late as possible because nobody wanted to be the first, everyone had piled in through the doors dead on five to eight.

Everyone except Phil.