She hesitated in the doorway, looking through the crowd for Jeremy. He was nowhere to be seen, but if the number of bodies per square foot was the criterion, his party was a wild success, she thought, grimacing inwardly.
'More supplies? Thank God.' A blonde girl with a nose-stud relieved Olivia of her champagne. 'People are leaving their jackets in the main bedroom, which is that way.' She pointed, then gave Olivia a curious look. 'I haven't seen you before. Do you work with Jerry?'
'No,' Olivia returned constrainedly. 'I'm an old friend.'
The other's grin was faintly malicious. 'Really? Maybe we should establish a support group. Anyway, dump your coat and get a glass. Most of the pouring's happening in the kitchen.'
'I'll find it.' Left alone, Olivia was tempted to beat an instant retreat, but decided she should at least greet Jeremy, and wish him good luck in his new home.
As she fought her way to the bedroom a hand grasped her arm, and, turning, she found herself looking up at Declan.
Joy seemed to explode inside her, and her mouth involuntarily curved into a smile.
'Declan? You're back.' She paused, trying to see past the cool grimness of his expression. 'I-I didn't expect to see you here.'
'I wasn't planning it either,' he said abruptly. 'I came with someone.'
Of course, she thought, her instinctive happiness at seeing him beginning to corrode into an ache of misery.
She said flatly. 'Well, if you'll excuse me, I'm on my way to find a drink.'
He said quietly, 'Olivia, do us both a favour and go. Go now.'
She tried to laugh. 'But I've only just got here.'
'It doesn't matter. It would be better all round, believe me.'
He was still holding her arm, and she pulled herself free.
'You have no right to say that. I was invited-and I'm staying.'
'Please do as I ask.' There was something like anguish in his eyes. 'I can't explain now … '
'Well, well, if it isn't the country mouse.' There was something familiar about the sultry female drawl that interrupted them. Olivia, blinking at the waft of heavy perfume assailing her, glanced round, and saw a spectacular head of red hair framing a sulky face, and a voluptuous body shown off in a minimal dress of charcoal ribbed silk. A bracelet set with lapis lazuli decorated one tanned arm.
Melinda, she thought, pain stabbing at hen The girl who'd been at Declan's house that first morning.
'So you came.' Her words were slightly slurred, but her blue eyes were hard as they swept Olivia. 'Little Miss Loser.'
Declan said harshly, 'That's enough, Melinda.'
Olivia faced her down, her chin lifted dangerously. 'You're dressed,' she said. 'Is there a shortage of bath towels?'
'Why, you … ' Melinda lunged with the glass she was holding, sending the champagne flying over Olivia.
'That does it,' Declan almost snarled 'Olivia-you're out of here.'
'No way,' she flung back at him. 'What's a little wine between friends? But I wouldn't let your girlfriend refill bier glass. I'd say she's had all she can manage.'
She walked into the bedroom, slinging her jacket on to the bed with all the others and making for the bathroom so she could sponge her dress.
As she walked in she nearly tripped over the outstretched legs of a girl who was sitting on the floor, her back to the wall and her head buried in her hands.
'Oh-I'm sorry.' Olivia checked. 'I didn't realise there was anyone in here.'
The girl looked up, shaking back her dark cloud of hair. She was attractive, rather than pretty, with a strong face marked by good bone structure now blurred and diminished by the tears which streaked her skin and reddened her smoky-blue eyes.
'There isn't.' Her voice was husky and shaking as she got to her feet. 'I'm going.'
'No, please.' Olivia felt desperately awkward. 'Do use the basin-bathe your face. I came in for some tissues because I've had a drink chucked over me.'
'We're neither of us having a very good party.' The girl combed her hair with her fingers. 'But yours may get better.'
Olivia shook her head, remembering the way Melinda's painted nails had closed on Declan's sleeve. The triumphant malice glittering in her eyes. 'I don't think so.' She paused. Is there anything I can do to help? Do you want to tell me what's upset you?'
'Why not?' The other laughed bitterly. 'Everyone but you seems to know already. I came to see my husband- we're supposed to be making a serious attempt to save our marriage, or so I thought. And I now find he's been having an affair all the time.' Her voice broke.
Olivia felt icy cold. Oh, God, she thought This must be Maria-Jeremy's wife. She looked at the pale, drawn face and shadowed eyes, and felt a knife twist inside her.
She said, 'How-how do you know?'
'My cousin told me.' The girl ran water into the basin and began to splash it on to her face. 'He's known about it for a while, but he didn't say anything because he hoped things would sort themselves out somehow.'
'And maybe they will,' Olivia said quickly. 'Perhaps it isn't nearly as serious as you think.'
Maria shook her head. 'It's become quite blatant Jeremy's even invited her here tonight,' she went on, swallowing. 'Although admittedly he didn't know I'd be coming as well. Now everyone knows-and I just want to die.'
'Oh, please don't feel like this.' Wretchedly, Olivia handed her a towel. 'I'm sine you can work something out together.'
Maria shook her head. 'Not again.' she said. 'He was seeing other women before he came to London. But he swore it had all stopped-that we'd make a fresh start. A few weeks ago he even took me to Paris for the weekend.' She stopped suddenly, biting her lip. 'Look, I shouldn't be saying all this. I don't know what you must be thinking. I'm not normally such a watering pot' Her lips stretched into a quivering smile. It must be my hormones. But I'll stop embarrassing myself-and everyone else-and go back to Bristol.' She paused. 'You've been very kind. What's your name?'
Olivia prayed that the floor would open and swallow her.
She said, 'Olivia Butler, Mrs Attwood.' She looked down at the tiles at her feet, willing them apart.
There was a silence, then Maria said, 'Ah,' very quietly. She left the bathroom, closing the door behind her.
Olivia slumped against the wall, feeling sick to her stomach. Everything she'd ever said to Jeremy, every kiss, every caress was coming back to haunt her.
He lied, she thought exhaustedly. Whatever their problems were, Maria wanted to find a solution. That doesn't make her the hard-nosed bitch he claimed.
She made no attempt to sponge her dress.
I deserve to have champagne thrown over me-and worse, she thought miserably. I never thought of her as another human being-as someone who could cry and suffer. As someone who cared. I only wish she could know how deeply I'm suffering too.
It was as if a veil had been torn aside to reveal a gaping wound. Only who was the wounded one-Maria or herself?
Oh, Declan, she thought achingly. How could you tell her? How could you be so cruel?
She walked back into the bedroom, and came face to face with Jeremy.
He said hurriedly, 'I heard you'd arrived. I've been looking for you. Listen, Livvy, about these things Declan's been saying … '
'They don't matter,' she said quietly. 'Nothing matters except that I never want to see either of you again. Goodbye.'
She went out into the living room. It was still packed, but she could see Declan's tall figure by the window, with Melinda's red hair close by, as if she was pinned to him.
Across the noise of music, chatter and laughter she thought she heard him call her name, but she didn't stop.
And when she was out in the street, she began to run.
CHAPTER ELEVEN
Olivia was breathless and panting by the time she reached Lancey Terrace, stumbling in her high heels.
Hand pressed to her side, she stood for a moment, leaning against the wrought-iron gates leading into the garden, trying to calm herself. To get back in control.
In her head, she could still hear Declan's voice calling her name, and she'd run because she was frightened he'd come after her. And she couldn't face him now, she thought. Her sense of betrayal was too deep.
Their so-called truce was over for good. And smashed alongside it was every foolish hope, every impossible dream.
All she needed now was a corner to hide in. She straightened, opening her small black bag and fumbling in it for her keys. But the key that emerged first was the one to the garden, which she must have inadvertently picked up with the others.
She turned it in her hand, staring down at it in the lamplight, then turned, with sudden resolution, and fitted it into the lock.
After all, she reasoned, if someone was indeed looking for her, the flat would be the place to target. So she wouldn't go home at once. She'd walk, and try to get her breath back, and her head together.
It was a warm night, the air heavy and humid, but Olivia shivered as a stray breeze touched her bare shoulders and arms. In her headlong flight she'd forgotten all about her jacket, she realised with vexation. She wrapped her arms across her body, hugging herself as she walked.