When we reach The Dorchester, I find that there’s actually a few paparazzis outside, so there must be some celebs attending. A couple of cameras flash as we emerge, but they mostly seem interested in photographing Alan and Melanie.
Sasha links her arm through mine as we get out of the limo, and a moment later Robert takes my other arm.
“Do you get the irony?” Robert asks Sasha as a camera flashes in our direction. “You’re a pap who’s being papped.”
She shakes her head at him, laughing. “Yep, it’s a strange old world, bro.”
We make our way inside the ballroom, where Alan’s entrance is immediately greeted with loud cheers and whoops and people shouting, “HAPPY BIRTHDAY!”
The place is decked out to the nines. There are chandeliers hanging from the ceiling and mirrors on the walls to give the illusion of even more space. In the centre of the room is a dance floor, with chairs and tables on the outskirts. A stage has been set up at the head of the room, and I have to do a double-take when I see the band.
“Are my eyes deceiving me, or is that Duran Duran?” I ask Sasha in amazement.
She laughs. “He gets them to play every year. They’re his favourite; the ’80s were his heyday.”
I snicker. “Okay, now I’m just imagining your dad with blond highlights and a mullet.”
“I think I saw a picture of him in a white blazer once,” Robert puts in humorously. “Oh, and Spandau Ballet will be on later.”
I gape at him. “Are you serious?”
“Yep. You’ll never want to hear another keyboard again before the night is out,” he jokes.
“I dunno. I kind of fancy Martin Kemp,” I confess sheepishly.
“I like that song “Gold.” It makes me feel indestructible,” Sasha adds.
It takes me and Robert a second to get that one. When we do, we shake our heads at her simultaneously with suppressed grins.
“Please tell me you’re joking about fancying Martin Kemp,” says Robert, turning his attention back to me.
“Nope. He’s very well preserved for his age. Oh, and speaking of Kemps, I think I just spotted Ross.”
Sasha groans. “That’s not Ross Kemp, that’s fucking Jimmy.”
“The one who wants to date you?” I ask.
“Unfortunately, yes. Come on, let’s go sit down before he spots me.”
We join Alan and Melanie at a big round table full of fancily dressed people I’ve never met before. A waiter comes and hands us glasses of champagne. I’m aware that two glasses is my limit, so I savour it slowly and pick at some of the healthier-looking finger foods. Simon Le Bon is currently introducing “Hungry like the Wolf,” and the crowd are cheering like crazy.
“Okay,” I say, biting into a delicious cracker with cream cheese and smoked salmon. “I’m convinced I’m looking at one of the Loose Women.”
“Oh, which one?” Sasha asks. “I love that Carole McGiffin. She cracks me up.”
“I’m not sure. I think it’s the one with the boyfriend half her age.”
“That’s not really narrowing it down.” Robert laughs.
“Okay, then it’s the one who’s a bit mental.”
“That doesn’t narrow it down, either,” he goes on.
“Oh, I give up,” I say, laughing now.
Suddenly Alistair is standing at our table with an older couple who I presume are his parents. They both go to wish Alan a happy birthday, leaving Alistair with us. He kneels down by Sasha.
“Right, another hour or so here, and then we can start making our way back to mine. I left Jacob and Sandra there to organise things,” he says to Sasha.
She nods while taking a bite out of a tiny sandwich. “Sounds good to me. Dad is already drunk. Another hour, and he won’t notice whether or not we’re alive, never mind still here.”
“Do we have to leave so soon?” I cut in, unable to imagine Alistair’s as being more fun than this. “I really want to see Spandau Ballet perform.”
Alistair bursts into laughter. “I take it this is your first time at one of Alan’s parties?” he says. “Because if it wasn’t, you wouldn’t want to hear another ’80s tune ever again.”
“I already warned her about the keyboards,” Robert puts in.
“Fine, fine,” I accede. “I guess seeing Duran Duran will have to be enough excitement.”
Alistair grins at me and pulls Sasha up for a dance. “Girls on Film” has just started, and now Alan’s climbing out of his seat and proclaiming this to be “his song.”
Robert lets his face fall to his hands.
“You’ve gone scarlet,” I say, nudging his shoulder in amusement.
“Dad’s terrible when he drinks.” He pauses just as Alan begins chanting the lyrics. There are men and women all around him chanting them, too. “As you can see.”
“It’s his birthday. We’re all allowed to be embarrassing on our birthdays.”
“I suppose.” He turns his chair to face me, leaning one elbow on the table. Next, he runs his fingers along the edge of my dress where it dips down into my cleavage. I’m showing some skin but not nearly as much as some of the women I’ve seen here so far. His eyes have grown dark with desire, and his mouth hangs open slightly.
“Guess what I’m wondering?” he says in a low voice.
“How long before your dad gives himself a heart attack with those dance moves,” I reply, gesturing to Alan working it over by the stage.
His lips twitch. “No. What I’m wondering is if that champagne has gotten you tipsy enough to let me lure you off to a private room.”
I raise an eyebrow and lift my glass to show him how little I’ve drunk. “I’ve barely taken five sips.”
“Yeah, but you’re a lightweight.”
“True. I’m still not tipsy enough, though.”
“Dance with me, then?” he asks, taking my hand into his.
“Okay,” I answer, allowing him to lead me out onto the floor.
The band have started playing “Ordinary World,” and Robert twirls me around before pulling me to him for a slow dance. He brings his mouth close to my ear and whispers, “You’ve got the softest breasts I’ve ever touched.”
I cough and give him a wide-eyed look. His hands travel down the curve of my spine before resting on my hips. He moves my body from side to side as people dance around us. I catch Sasha’s eye from where she and Alistair are joking around, doing ridiculous dance moves. She sees me dancing with Robert and mouths “WTF?” I shrug, and then she shrugs back. We both laugh at the same time and return our attention to our dance partners.