The Grace Girls (38 page)

‘Just make sure you have your coat and stole on when you come down the stairs to go out,’ Sophie said, winking conspira­torially. ‘What your father doesn’t know won’t hurt him. I’ve heard him going on about Kirsty’s stage outfits and there’s no point in getting into a row with him over something stupid like that on New Year’s Eve.’

Larry picked Kirsty up at seven o’clock. ‘The outfit and hair are just perfect,’ he said, looking approvingly at her.

‘Thanks,’ Kirsty said, giving him a bright smile that didn’t quite reach her eyes. ‘I thought the lights would catch the sequins on the dress, so I asked the hairdresser to put a few in my hair as well.’

‘You’re catching on,’ he said, starting the car engine up. ‘What counts is how it looks on stage. If you’ve got the right image
and
the right voice you have everything.’

Catching on
, Kirsty repeated to herself. You’d think she was only a schoolgirl the way he was talking. She fought back a smart remark, determined not to cross swords with him. Tonight was too important to let anything get in the way.

The band members were already there, setting up the microphones and tuning their instruments. They greeted Kirsty with cheery smiles and a few light-hearted words, a
nd she realised that after only a couple of times rehearsin
g with them, she felt relaxed and easy in the same way she’d had felt with The Hi-Tones.

When it dawned on her, Kirsty felt very good about it. Larry had explained that it was important for a solo singer
to be able to adapt to the different bands in different places.
The crowds started to come in to the beautifully decorated function room, to find their individual tables with their place-names, stopping to admire the very classy Christmas tree and decora­tions that still looking sparklingly fresh even though they’d been up several weeks by now.

As she watched the formally dressed men and women take their places, Kirsty decided that it was time for her to disappear into the dressing-room for a final run over the songs again.

When she came out on stage, the lights were dimmed very low, with candle-light flickering on each table. It was to
o dark to actually make out faces, but Kirsty was instinctively aware of Larry sitting at a table to the side of the stage – watching and waiting to see how she performed.

‘I told you that Jim Murray would swan off with his pals,’ Liz said with an indulgent smile as she watched him from across the crowded room. She was all dressed up for the evening in a pale pink strapless satin dress that suited her light colouring, and her fiancé was in his best suit. ‘But you can’t tie them down all the time, and as he said, he might as well enjoy this New Year as we don’t know what situation we’re going to be in next year.’ She paused for a moment, her hand patting the back of her elegant, swept-up hair to check that it was all in place. ‘We could have a baby or anything, and that would halt all the gadding about at the weekends.’

Heather slowly nodded her head in agreement, hardly able to believe that Liz had broached the subject of babies herself. She still hadn’t come straight out and said, ‘I’m expecting’ or ‘I’m pregnant’, but she was obviously preparing people for the fact that they probably would have one in the next year.

Heather was glad she had dressed up, as everyone else looked very glamorous, the girls in lovely evening gowns and the boys in their best suits and one or two of them wearing bow-ties. When she arrived she had taken off her coat, but so far had kept the light stole around her, draped in such a way that it completely covered her bust. ‘It’s a gorgeous big house,’ she said now, ‘isn’t it? It’s obviously private and must be worth a fortune.’ She gave a little giggle. ‘How did we get invited? We don’t usually go to parties in places like this.’ She looked around the high-ceilinged sitting-room, admiring the intricate coving and the floral centrepiece that surrounded the fitting for a fancy crystal chandelier.

The downstairs hallway was beautiful, with very expensive-looking red velvet wallpaper, the kind Heather had only ever seen in the sorts of restaurants that her mother liked to visit on days out in the summer. The staircase was painted white with a dark wood banister, and the same patterned carpet that was in the hall below ran all the way up the stairs.

Both girls whispered how they would love to see inside the bedrooms.

‘I bet they’re gorgeous,’ Heather had said, with dreamy eyes. ‘All flowery and romantic. You can just tell – it’s the type of house that it would just suit.’

‘When you’re upstairs in the bathroom later,’ Liz said, ‘look along the corridor and see if any of the doors are open wide enough to peep in.’

Heather had shaken her head. ‘You must be joking, Liz Mullen – you know fine well I’m not brave enough. You’ll have to do it yourself.’

‘I will,’ Liz grinned. ‘I want to get ideas for when Jim and I eventually have our own house.’ She’d glanced aroun
d her. ‘Some day I’d like to own a house like this.’

‘Wouldn’t we all?’ Heather said, and then the two girls looked at each other and went into childish fits of giggles, drawing inquisitive looks from the others around them.

Earlier on they had been shown into the dining-room where an expensive radiogram was playing jazz music, an
d the polished mahogany table and chairs had been pushed into the large bay window to give room for danci
ng later on. An older kitchen table had been piled up with bottles of beer and lager that people had brought along
with the usual drinks for the girls like Snowballs, Babycha
m and Cherry-B. There was also a bottle of whiskey that someone had brought and a bottle of gin. Dishes with crisps and nuts were dotted about the place and Liz had reported that she’d heard someone say that there would be sandwiches and more substantial food later.

Heather had grimaced to herself at the thought of the gin and tonic she’d forced herself to drink at the Pavillion in Glasgow, and had happily settled on a glass of lemonade. She decided she’d see how she felt later, but she might have one of the fancy little bottles of something when it was time for the bells.

‘Who’s actually giving this party?’ Heather suddenly asked Liz in a low whisper. ‘I feel funny being in here and not even knowing them.’

‘I don’t know the people at all,’ Liz whispered back now. ‘As far as I know it’s a sister and brother who’re having the party. Mark and Katherine somebody . . . I can’t remember the name. Jim said they’re a wee bit full of themselves wi’ all the money, but quite nice considering.’ She halted. ‘The mother and father are away to a big posh do at a hotel in Edinburgh and they’re not coming back until tomorrow night.’

‘That’s very handy,’ Heather said, taking a sip from her glass of lemonade. ‘Although I’d be terrified to have anything at home in case things got broken or damaged, and if I owned a place as nice as this I’d be even more terrified.’

‘Seemingly they’re a very decent family, so there won’t be any rough ones here or anything. Jim knows the fella through work,’ Liz explained, ‘and he just told Jim to bring a few friends with him since you never know who’ll turn up, because a lot of people like to see the New Year in at home.’

‘Well it’s a nice change to see some new faces,’ Heather said quietly. ‘I know it’s terrible if you don’t know a soul, but we’ve got the best of both worlds tonight because there’s the wee group that came from Rowanhill with us in the minibus if we’ve nobody else to talk to.’ She gestured over to a corner where the other six were chatting animatedly, three lads and three girls – none of whom were going out with each other.

‘D’you not fancy any of them?’ Liz asked her now. ‘Michael Heggarty’s a nice fella – I had a couple of dates with him before I started goin’ out with Jim.’

‘No thanks,’ Heather said, shooting her friend a warnin
g glance. ‘I think if I’d fancied him you’d have known by now.’

An hour later there was a nice-sized crowd in the house and Heather and Liz had met quite a few of the people they didn’t know. Jim had come across to introduce Mark McFarlane who was the fellow who lived in the house. He was very friendly and well-spoken, with smooth brown hair and glasses.

‘This is Liz, my fiancée,’ Jim had said, and Heather noticed the glow that came to Liz’s cheeks at being described in such a way.

‘And this is my friend, Heather,’ Liz had said, almost pushing her forward. ‘And she’s single before you ask – and she’s got a good job in an office in Glasgow!’

Everyone laughed at Liz’s pointed introduction but Heather found herself cringing as she shook Mark’s hand. Her friend had made it sound as though she was trying to flog her off at a cattle market. She wouldn’t have been surprised if Liz had pointed out that she had good hair and nice white even teeth.

Later, when the dancing started up in the dining-room, Mark McFarlane came across to ask Heather to dance. He was very friendly and chatty, asking her all the usual questions about where she lived and what schools she’d gone to. He then went on to tell her how his father owned several bookies’ shops and that he was now managing the biggest one. He’d previously worked with Jim, not wanting to get involved in the family business, but his father had made him several offers that were much too good to refuse.

‘Let’s be honest,’ he’d told Heather as he swept her around the floor in a waltz, ‘how many fellas my age are driving brand-new cars and going to Italy for their holidays? And it’s just as easy working for my father as it is for any other boss . . . and there’s a lot more perks.’

Heather had nodded her head in agreement, wonderi
ng what it must be like to have such a glamorous lifestyle. ‘
Well, there’s no fear of me following my parents into anything
,’ she’d laughed at one point. ‘My father’s a school janitor and my mother does sewing – but I’m happy enough with my job in Glasgow.’ She twirled around the floor and ignored the sinking feeling that came into her stomach at the thought of returning to work on the fourth of January and facing Sarah.

Mark McFarlane had shrugged. ‘Och, women shouldn
’t have to worry about finding decent jobs. What they need to do is find a decent man with a decent job.’ He gave a little smile. ‘By the time the family comes along they’re far too busy keeping the house to do anything else.’

‘I think,’ Heather said, giving him a surprised look, ‘that maybe your views are a wee bit old-fashioned these days. A lot of women like to have their own careers.’

‘Maybe,’ he’d said, smiling down at her. ‘But there’s a lot who would jump at the chance of a nice house and a nice car.’ He nodded in the direction of Jim and Liz. ‘There’s a pair who would jump at that. They must be mad getting married so young . . . or maybe they don’t have much choice.’

‘They seem happy enough about it,’ Heather said, wondering if he knew the reason for the sudden rush.

The next time they circled around that part of the floor, Heather noticed that Liz and Jim seemed to be in a heated discussion – or maybe even an argument. She was quite taken aback since it was a fairly public place to be arguing, but when she got a good look at them she deduced it was Liz giving Jim a good telling off about something.

Possibly, he’d already had a bit too much to drink, Heather thought. Then she scolded herself for being so nosy. It was normal for couples to have the odd row – and they could have been rowing about anything.

Mark’s very attractive sister Katherine came over to them at the end of the dance, and said she thought it was about time to put the food out, otherwise people might get a bit too tipsy to enjoy it.

‘I’ll come back to you later,’ Mark McFarlane told Heather. ‘So don’t go too far away.’

‘I think you’ve made a good impression there,’ Liz whispered as they piled small sausage rolls and a variety of sandwiches on their plates. ‘And he’s a good catch. If you leave the stole off at the next dance, you’ve as good as got him.’

‘Heather made an apologetic face. ‘He’s not my type, Liz,’ she whispered back.

‘You hardly know him,’ Liz countered, sounding a bit irritable. ‘God, you’re never going to meet anybody if you keep being so fussy.’

Having picked their choice of the food, they turned to cross the beautifully carpeted hallway and head back to the comfort­able chairs in the sitting-room.

Heather suddenly felt Liz tug at her elbow. ‘Oh, my God!’ she gasped. ‘Look who’s just walked in!’

Heather turned to look and there, standing at the front door chatting to Jim, was Gerry Stewart. ‘Oh, no!’ she said, moving quickly across the hall and into the large sitting-room. She made for a dimly lit corner of the room, away from the other groups of people milling around chatting, and put her bag and drink and food on a sideboard next to their chairs. ‘I thought you said he definitely wasn’t coming here!’ she hissed, turning accusingly to Liz. ‘You promised me. You know I would never have come if I’d thought he’d be here as well.’

Liz put her handbag and plate of sandwiches down next to Heather’s and then she crossed her heart with her thumb. ‘Honest to God I didn’t know he was coming tonight. He wasn’t supposed to be here . . .’ She halted. ‘You know I wouldn’t do that to you . . . don’t you?’

‘Well, how do you think it looks?’ Heather said sharply, hurt and betrayal staring out from her eyes.

‘It was Jim,’ Liz stated weakly. ‘He told Gerry you would be here . . .’