Page 15 of Lean On Me
I glanced at Marilyn. ‘Will you call Perry?’
She nodded. ‘Keep your head down, and serve the back tables. You won’t be recognised there.’
The manager took a break from her wheezing. ‘If I catch you engaging the guests in a conversation, I’m docking your pay. Now what are you still doing here?’
Adrenaline pumping, I hurried over to the marquee as fast as I dared, the plates slipping back and forth across the tray. Ducking into the side entrance, I whipped each starter onto the table, trying to keep within the boundaries of professionalism so as not to draw attention from the guests.
One of them leaned back as I plonked the plate down in front of her. ‘She’s not even turned up!’ she drawled. ‘Gone AWOL. How utterly ungrateful.’
‘It’s Larissa and Milton I feel sorry for,’ another woman said, a tiny bit of bread roll flying out of her mouth. ‘They’ve waited all this time for Perry to find a wife, and now this! And nobody knows anything about her. How are you to know she’s suitable if you don’t know her family?’
‘I heard she’s only nineteen. Fifteen years younger. And she hasn’t got any family. It’s a classic – trashy young trollop ensnares older man with her sleazy seduction techniques.’
‘She’s a gold-digger? Poor Larissa. She must be relieved the girl hasn’t turned up.’
I placed the last plate in front of a middle-aged man with a bushy moustache, trying to prevent my hands from shaking. He looked at me. ‘Thank you.’
‘You’re welcome.’ My voice cracked.
He spoke louder as I topped up his water glass, so the whole table could hear. ‘Any young woman prepared to take on the Uppertons deserves a medal, in my opinion. And you should be ashamed of yourselves, sat here accepting their hospitality while you spout forth poisonous speculation and distasteful gossip. Peregrine is a grown man with a sound mind. Give the fellow some credit. At least wait until you’ve met the girl before you damn her. And she’s twenty-five, not nineteen. Not that it matters.’
I resisted the urge to plant a kiss on the top of his balding head before rushing back out.
‘Pssst!’ Marilyn hissed at me from the side of the catering van.
‘Did you phone him?’ I pulled her behind the van, out of sight.
‘Yes. I said you’d run out of battery so had to use a payphone. He knows you’re at work but will be here ASAP. I’ve sent James to go and fetch you a change of clothes.’
‘James? You’ve sent your husband to go rummaging through my wardrobe for a party dress!’
‘Chill, Faith. He’s a man of the world. I need to stay here to co-ordinate the mission.’ She frowned at me, but her eyes were dancing.
‘I knew it. You’re enjoying this. If you’d heard what they were saying about me on table twelve…’
‘Pah. Table twelve is full of the Woodbridge witches. They wouldn’t have a kind word to say if you were Kate Middleton. And we’re here now, might as well enjoy it.’
I shook my head in disbelief. ‘I’ve got to go. Let me know when James gets back. And when you figure out what on earth I’m going to do when he gets here, Mission Commander.’
I dove into the kitchen, grabbing another tray before heading back into the breach. On the third run, I passed another waitress. Wiping the sweat off her forehead, she clutched my arm. ‘One of those needs to go to the top table. Someone missed out the bloke’s mum.’
‘Okay, take one of these.’
‘Not a chance.’ She took a step back. ‘That woman is like a scorpion in a bad wig. She’s already sworn to have me fired. No way I’m going back there.’
I felt as though a clammy hand had squeezed hold of my spine. ‘I’ll give you all my tips if you do it.’
‘If you think your tips are going to reach one hundred thousand pounds, you might have a deal. Otherwise, not a chance. Better hurry up, Faith. The scorpion’s waiting.’
She sprinted off back in the direction of the kitchen. Frantically looking around, there wasn’t a single member of staff to be seen. I entered the tent and offloaded all the contents ofthe tray but one onto a table. Taking a shaky breath, I swiped a scarf from the back of an unoccupied chair as I swept past. Ducking behind one of the disco lights, I emerged the other side with the scarf wrapped around my head. Head high, plate clattering on the tray in time to the quaking in my shoes, I glided past Larissa’s table, practically throwing the starter in front of her before racing away. Glancing at my future mother-in-law out of the corner of my eye, she appeared rigid, livid, puce. I was going to be severely punished for missing a party I knew nothing about. Goodness me, if she knew the truth of the matter, she’d never let Perry forget it.
A week of no sleep due to my terrifying secrets, no dinner, the evening’s ridiculous antics being far from over, and the thought of spending the rest of my life as an Upperton all combined together to create a whirlwind in my stomach. I smoothly exited the tent, whipping off the scarf and draping it on a nearby bush before watering said bush with that day’s lunch.
James arrived shortly afterwards. He carried a bag containing a knee-length, black dress, plucked from among the jeans and T-shirts taking up 90 per cent of my meagre wardrobe. To give him credit, he also remembered to bring some matching shoes. I dove behind a bush, Marilyn whispering me instructions while she kept guard.
‘You’ve fifteen minutes until it’s time to clear the first lot of plates, according to the head waiter. Get in there and start schmoozing. And here…’ She grabbed my ponytail, yanking out the elastic before fluffing the locks about my face. ‘If you keep your hair forwards and keep smiling, none of the staff will recognise you.’
I took a deep breath. ‘Do I have to go in there?’
