Read Online Starting Over by Sue Moorcroft - Free Book Online Page A

blonde.
     

 
Chapter Six
     
    Tess’s hair was strawberry blonde. Her eyes were greener or bluer according to what she wore, but tonight as turquoise as her silk dress, a skimming fabric sheath which bared a shoulder, hem flaring just above her ankles.
    Angel had feathered the bottom few inches of her hair, whirled it into a pleat with a thick strand at the front snaking long over her bare left shoulder. Terrific.
    ‘You shall go to the ball, Tesserella! Even if it’s only with Jos.’
    It had been quite funny, retreating from the embarrassment of Ratty being so overwhelmed with options that he’d almost invited two partners and Jos so thrilled he could relieve matters.
    It would have taken a harder heart than Tess’s to wipe the smile off that bearded face with a refusal. Jos was so sweet. But what on earth did a biker-mechanic wear to a ball?
    Black suit, apparently, black embroidered black shirt, black shoelace tie, black tooled cowboy boots, hair smoothed into a shining pigtail and beard newly trimmed close, revealing that he did actually have a jawline. ‘Jos!’ She stared at a Jos bashful under scrutiny on her doorstep. ‘You look ... amazing!’
    The ballroom was spectacular with ruby damask curtains and snowy table linen beneath golden chandeliers. Vivid gowns, floating, swirling, set off by the marvellous, uncompromising sobriety of dinner jackets. Ages since Tess had dressed up for a good bash.
    And it would have all been so lovely, so bright and friendly, if not for Catriona.
    Pete and Angel, Tess and Jos were already at the table when an unusually quiet Ratty escorted in slinking, blonde-streaked Catriona, gorgeous in gunmetal satin. Expression blank, she was introduced to Tess.
    ‘Pimm’s, I think,’ she husked in Ratty’s direction, folding elegantly into the red plush chair. Her hair hung in a shining fall and she shook it constantly down her back.
    ‘I hate sitting with my back to the room.’ Catriona gazed at each of those who weren’t.
    Pete immediately took Angel, startling in fire engine red, to dance, probably knowing generous Angel would offer to switch. Catriona moved casually to Angel’s seat, swapping drinks and evening purses.
    ‘Comfortable now?’ Jos looked stupefied by this little selfishness.
    ‘Fine.’ Catriona gazed past him.
    Jos and Tess joined the dancing, abandoning Ratty to deal with the unlovely Catriona. Ratty looked grim and glared after them.
    Apart from that, the evening was superb. Dancing with Jos – who, surprisingly, could – with Pete, all kinds of nameless men from other parties, even once with Ratty, although Catriona soon stopped that, declaring the dance a ladies’ excuse me. Dinner was excellent, the speeches funny, although Tess got only half the local references.
    Champagne stood on the table in a glass bucket and, returning to the dance floor under the chandeliers dimmed now in favour of a blaze of candles, Tess floated on bubbles. The band, the laughter, the pretty lights. Wonderful.
     
    Pete collared Ratty at the bar. ‘You’re a bastard.’
    ‘Well, you knew that.’ Ratty finished emptying vodka into Catriona’s Pimm’s. ‘I’m just helping her sleep.’
    ‘Have you nobbled Jos, too? He’s almost off his face!’
    ‘Total coincidence.’ Ratty looked Pete in the eye.
    By midnight, he was pouring Catriona and Jos, helpless and liquid from spiked drinks, into a taxi, the driver demanding a fifty-pound bonus to deliver them home. He paid and brushed off his hands, grinning for the first time all night at an amused-disgusted Pete. ‘Now I feel like dancing.’
     
    The great thing, Tess was assured, was to make it through until five in the morning when the Survivors’ Bus would take home everyone still standing.
    She couldn’t remember having such a great time since she was a student. So many warm hands leading her onto the dance floor, black dinner-jacketed arms escorting her back. The chatter, the music, the DJ.
    Simeon Carlysle