‘The artist?’ said Grace. ‘Don’t be silly. He was probably just looking for the loos or something.’
‘Well I think he’s pretty sexy in a “going to seed but knows it” kind of way. I bet he’d be filthy in bed too – sensitive fingers.’
Grace laughed, but she couldn’t help scanning the crowd to see if she could spot the famous painter.
‘Have you seen Alex yet?’ she asked. ‘I thought I saw him through the crowd but then he disappeared.’
Sarah looked at her wide-eyed. ‘Alex Doyle is here? So that’s why you’ve dragged me out to bloody Berkshire.’
‘Don’t be daft.’
‘Well I hope not, because you do know he’s got a superstar girlfriend, don’t you? I suspect even you can’t compete with her.’
Grace shook her head, surprised at how disappointed she felt at the news. ‘What superstar girlfriend?’ she asked.
‘Whatshername, Melissa Jackson. Hollywood sex-pot.’
Grace almost snorted her drink down her nose. ‘What? He goes out with her?’
Sarah tutted. ‘Don’t you ever read Heat?’
‘Not in rural Ibiza, no.’
‘Well, they’re LA’s hottest power couple; they’re practically joined at the hip.’
Suddenly Grace felt the music getting louder, the crowd pressing in.
‘Listen, I’m going to the bar,’ she said. ‘Do you want anything? ’
‘Don’t worry about me,’ said Sarah. ‘I’ve just spotted that guy Iftaka, the one who owns this place. I’ll put in a good word for you!’
‘Oh God, don’t ...’ But Sarah was already tapping the stocky Arab on the shoulder.
Blushing, Grace headed in the opposite direction, suddenly remembering why she preferred her quiet farmhouse in Ibiza.
Alex had managed to give Melissa the slip. Not that he wanted to get rid of his fiancée exactly, but he wanted to tell Grace about their engagement privately, without Melissa making a big deal of it. He had no reason to break it to her gently, of course, but he felt she would appreciate hearing it from him, rather than reading about it in the papers.
He found Grace in the orangery, sitting on a marble bench sipping a glass of champagne. ‘Guess who?’ he said, coming up behind her and covering her eyes with the palms of his hands.
‘Al Doyle. Rock and roll superstar,’ said Grace with her throaty chuckle. ‘I thought I saw you coming in.’
‘It’s still Alex to you, by the way,’ he said, sitting down next to her. ‘I haven’t turned into a complete knob quite yet.’
‘I wasn’t suggesting you had.’ She smiled.
‘Here, give us a swig of your bubbly,’ he said. ‘I’ve got a throat like a badger.’
She covered the glass with her hand. ‘Are you allowed?’
Alex rolled his eyes. ‘Not you too. The person I came with is on a zero tolerance alcohol drive at the moment. Some health kick in time for the Oscars. It’s all mung beans and green algae drinks.’
‘The person you came with?’ She smiled. ‘Would that be your Hollywood girlfriend?’
He nodded. ‘Yeah. Melissa’s cool.’
‘She was terrific in that film about the lost puppy.’
‘Are you being sarcastic?’