The Invitation by A.M. Castle

The Invitation by A.M. Castle

Author:A.M. Castle [Castle, A.M.]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: HarperCollins Publishers
Published: 2021-02-16T17:00:00+00:00


Chapter 40

Rachel

Mount Tregowan, 31st October

Poor Vicky. We all knew, of course. But maybe not how bad things had got. Still, it doesn’t take long for her to ‘freshen up’. She’s lucky she didn’t break her nose, falling headlong like that. Drunks bounce, don’t they? And, once she’s tottered out of the loo, looking greener than Tasha’s emerald dress, she’s ready to go into battle again. I can see it.

Too late, though, Vicks. We’re now all seated at my lovely long table. I see her hesitate and swallow. Her throat must be like sandpaper after all that upchucking, but it’s worked, just like it used to at uni. ‘The Romans did it,’ she’d point out at parties. ‘They built special rooms for it.’ Well, Vicky, my loo is not a vomitorium. And we’ve all grown past that shit. Or the rest of us have. She pulls out her own chair, waving away the server, and subsides. She’s furious with me – I did glean that much from her ramblings. But who can she really blame, but herself?

I smile down the table. It feels good to have everyone here, all present and correct. Granted, the day has been full of more ‘alarums and excursions’ than I would have liked. Funny how my mind keeps drifting back to uni tonight. I remember the lecturer who first droned that phrase, and how Gita and I leapt on it. Every party after that was dissected for its share of alarums and excursions. And none had more than mine.

But tonight, I sense we all want to just enjoy the simple pleasures. I nod and more Cristal is poured. I hope those girls are appreciating it. Both Tasha and her mother are tucking in like it’s lemonade. Tasha’s had a shock, poor child. She won’t look me in the eye. I hope Gita’s not riled all over again. I’ll speak to her later, smooth those ruffled feathers.

Raf, on the far side of the table, seems to have annexed his own bottle. Like mother, like son. I suppose it’s a lot to take in. Even the backs of his ears are burning red, though why he should be embarrassed I don’t know. It’s his mother’s little slip, not his. Well, hers and Tom’s. I sip from my own flute, but only fizzy water tickles my nose. Honestly, this lot are so short-sighted. Even Tom, the ha-ha professional, is incapable of clocking the obvious tonight. He’s got a lot of explaining to do – that’s for sure.

I suppose it is down to me, as usual, to lance the boil, and release the ill will swirling around this table. But first I shall focus on higher things. The highest of them all. Love, not to put too fine a point on it. The one thing that eluded me for years, but which I’ve found on this funny little mountain. I raise my glass to Ross, all the way down the other end of the table. He’s turned to speak to Penny.



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