And that, as far as she was concerned, was the end of it.
Chapter Two
After the trials at the office that week, Alice would have relished a weekend of relaxation; instead, she found herself hovering awkwardly in the corner of her stepsister’s vast walled garden in Hampstead, clutching a glass of Pimm’s and worrying about her lipstick smudging.
“Canapé?”
Alice blinked at a silver tray of elaborate appetizers, all colored a vivid shade of pink to match the rest of the party theme. “No, thank you.” She shook her head politely, watching as the waitress circulated among the crowd of guests who were scattered across the immaculate lawn. Although there had been no mention of dress code, there was obviously a memo Alice hadn’t received. Her blue silk sundress may have looked the perfect garden-party choice, but every other woman was draped in shades of palest cream and caramel: an array of blousy tops and layered gold jewelry that made her feel as stiff as a shop mannequin amongst the lounging, honey-hued guests.
“There you are!”
Alice turned toward the huge, stuccoed house as Flora, in a floating print dress, emerged out of the French doors onto the patio. She surveyed the garden with a beam of delight. “Isn’t it lovely?”
“Lovely,” Alice echoed faintly. And it was. From the white, canopied awnings to the spotless tables, overflowing with pink cupcakes and even pinker flower arrangements, the garden was beautiful, a testament to what a husband with a private equity fortune could achieve. The sky was even a cloudless blue, the sun warm on her bare shoulders. Alice took a slice of cucumber from her drink and nibbled. It, at least, wasn’t pink.
“Have you met everyone yet?” Flora linked her arm through Alice’s and happily led her onto the lawn. She had turned twenty-four just a few months before, but with her wispy, petite frame and expression of perpetual bemusement, she still looked exactly like the child who had always gazed absently at Alice across the table at Christmas and holidays for the past ten years. “I don’t even know half the people here,” she confided, waving at different groups as they passed. “But Stefan has all these clients, and their wives, and friends…”
“And accountants, and Porsche dealers…” Alice finished, smiling. Despite the joking, she found her brother-in-law a solid, sturdy relief from her family’s vague chaos. She’d had her reservations when they met, three years ago; Flora was toying with watercolors at art school when she literally tumbled into Stefan’s lap at Glyndebourne. At first, Alice had wondered what a laid-back, thirty-year-old Swedish financier could possibly want with her dreaming, childlike stepsister, but somehow it worked. Stefan adored Flora, Flora basked in his adoration, and within months, they were walking down the rose-petal-strewn aisle.
“Are Dad and Jasmine coming up?” She looked around for a familiar face but found none.
Flora shook her head, fine blond hair fluttering out in the breeze. “No, I called this morning, but Mum’s deep in a new sculpture and I don’t think Dad’s come out of his workshop in two days.” She smiled at Alice. “You can tell Mum’s not going anywhere—it took her five minutes just to remember where he was!”
Alice nodded, well used to their eccentricities.
“Here we are!” Flora planted them in the middle of a group of tanned, tawny-haired woman. “Everyone, this is my sister, Alice.” There were coos of welcome, and she began the loop of air kisses as each woman was presented in turn. “Alice, meet Mimi, and Sascha, and Ginny…”
***
Half an hour later, Alice was beginning to notice a theme. “Is there anyone here…younger?” she asked casually, finding Flora by the dessert table. “I mean, everybody is around my age, aren’t they? Or older.”
“Nathalia is twenty-three.” She pointed out a doe-eyed model in what Alice could only assume were next season’s hot, draped peg-leg trousers. “With Jonty. He and Stefan used to race yachts together round the Mediterranean.”
“Mmm,” Alice murmured tactfully. Jonty may well be a very nice man, but he was also pushing fifty. “What about your art school friends? Or people from back home.”
Flora gave a small shrug. She picked at frosting on her tiny cake, earlier enthusiasm fading. “It’s been hard, to keep up with people.” Her voice was soft. “They were weird enough about Stefan, but then when we bought the house, and I got the deal with my paintings…” she trailed off, looking so mournful, Alice felt guilty. She often felt guilty around Flora.
“Well, everyone here seems nice!” she exclaimed brightly. “And if they weren’t happy for your success, then they can’t have been good friends to begin with.”
“That’s what Stefan says.” Flora nodded, still forlorn. “When Zara sold her first print, we all had the best celebration. But when things started happening with me…”
“It’s all right.” Alice glanced around, wishing she hadn’t brought it up. “Oh, look, there’s Julian! He said he’d be dropping by. Probably to scope out your catering, you know he’s always sizing up the competition.”
She steered Flora firmly across the garden, chatting about the divine profiteroles in an effort to raise her party spirits again. She couldn’t blame her for the moping, but she had some sympathy for those art school friends too. Flora’s paintings were pedestrian, to say the least: endless dreamy watercolors of flowers and pastoral scenes that Ella had once described as “not so much art as a visual sleeping pill.” Nonetheless, Stefan had somehow used his business contacts to wrangle a deal with a publisher, and now Flora was officially the twelfth most-sold artist in the country; her prints (and coasters, and calendars, and wipe-clean placemats) snapped up in gift shops from Bournemouth to the Isle of Wight. Alice could see how that might sting her old classmates, who were struggling in their run-down bed-sits with night jobs waitressing to get by.
“Happy anniversary!” Julian strode over to meet them, sweeping Flora into a bear hug. He was casual as ever in his weekend uniform of corduroy trousers and a crumpled shirt; after a decade of friendship, Alice would have been shocked to see him in a tie. “You outdid yourself this time, Flor, everything looks great.”
Flora brightened. She looked around at the pink wonderland with a faint smile. “It’s all Stefan, he found the best party planner through a client. He did Sienna too.”