Free The Club by Mandasue Heller Page A

.’
    ‘Is that possible?’ Avril replied coldly.
    But who was she kidding? She’d no more dance alone than Leonard would walk into a room full of strangers without her, and they both knew it.
    Shoulders slumping, she pushed her chair under the table, saying resignedly, ‘I’m going to the toilet – if that’s all right with you?’
    ‘Fine,’ Leonard grunted with satisfaction. Then, looking around for a waiter, he said, ‘I shall have to have words with that Jenny girl. Let her know that her staff have been neglecting her guests.’
    ‘Don’t make waves,’ Avril cautioned wearily. ‘And while I’m gone, could you please think about going home, because neither of us is enjoying this.’
    Flicking her a dismissive glance, Leonard turned his head, his face all false smiles now as he nodded to the music and gazed around the room. He had no intention of slinking away like an unloved dog before the party was over.
    Shaking her head, Avril walked calmly away. She didn’t really need the toilet, she just needed a break from her husband’s miserable company. Tapping a waiter on the shoulder en route to the stairs, she pointed out their table and asked him to take a very large Scotch rocks over to Leonard, in the hope that he would get drunk and cheer up.

    Self-conscious by himself, Leonard agitatedly tapped his fingers on the table. He would never admit it to Avril, but she was right about him not enjoying himself. He didn’t know what he’d expected when he came here tonight, but it certainly hadn’t been to sit in virtual isolation. And while he knew a lot of the faces around him, having seen them on TV or in the papers, he found it quite wounding that they obviously didn’t recognise him.
    But, then, maybe they did, he told himself consolingly. Maybe they knew exactly who he was, but were put off approaching him because of Avril’s uninviting face.
    ‘Your drink, sir.’
    Glancing up in surprise when the young waiter placed a large Scotch on the table, Leonard said, ‘Oh, right . . . thank you. Just a moment.’ Pulling a ten-pound note out of his wallet, he placed it on the tray.
    ‘You don’t have to pay,’ the waiter told him, holding it out. ‘Everything’s complimentary for invited guests tonight.’
    ‘Yes, I know that,’ Leonard blustered, having completely forgotten. ‘It’s a tip.’
    ‘Oh, no, sir, I couldn’t.’
    ‘I insist.’ Leonard was smiling now. ‘I want you to have it.’
    ‘Okay, thanks.’ Returning the smile, the waiter pocketed the note. ‘I’ll be around if you want anything else. Just give me a wave.’
    Watching as the boy walked away, Leonard shook his head, wondering how on Earth these kids managed to squeeze themselves into such tight clothing. Oh, to be young and fit again. He’d have given these boys a run for their money in his prime – before Avril got her claws into him and sucked all the joy out of his bones.
    Sighing wistfully for his lost youth, he sipped at his drink and let his gaze wander. The room was packed out, but there was a particularly large gathering at a table across the room where a loud American was holding court, making everybody laugh with stories that Leonard couldn’t hear.
    Pursing his lips thoughtfully, he peered at the man’s face. He must be very famous, judging by the way the other stars were hanging on to his every word, but Leonard couldn’t quite put his finger on where he’d seen him before.
    Clicking his fingers when it suddenly came to him, he thought, Of course! Lord Kimberley’s charity auction-cum-dinner at The Lowry last week. Tony Allen – that was his name.
    Feeling a small thrill of excitement when it occurred to him that it might break the ice with some of the other guests if he were to go and say hello to Allen, Leonard eased himself out of his seat and strolled over.
    Edging casually in among the people who were hanging about on the edge of the circle, he manoeuvred himself in until he was close to Allen