Distraction

Chapter Thirty-Five

'You're not actually wearing that shawl are you?' Zoe frowned at Libby as Jonathon helped out of the car. 'It's longer than your dress.'

'And that's why I'm wearing it.' Libby frowned at the Mill. It twinkled with fairy lights but the mistletoe over the door only increased her apprehension. 'I look like a Soho stripper.'

Her little black dress, a vintage sequined number, she'd assumed would be suitable without trying it on. It wasn't. When she'd bought it for an opening night party four years ago, it had been just shy of too big, now she could barely breathe. The strapless neckline sat far too low but if she pulled it up, the hem showed the tops of her hold up stockings. With no other even vaguely appropriate dress for a black tie event, she'd had to grin and wear it.

'You look incredible.' Jonathon smiled down at her. 'You both do.'

No. In a red satin, full-length column dress, her glossy hair flowing down her back, Zoe looked incredible - like a nineteen-fifties sex goddess. A nineteen-fifties sex goddess with a vast rock on her left hand.

And I look like a stripper.

'Er... ears?' Zoe pushed Libby's hair aside, scowling at the diamante strands the Dick had given her for her birthday. 'No.'

'But-'

'No.'

Libby took out the earrings and sulkily handed them over. She loved those earrings. Zoe hadn't minded Libby wearing them a few months ago. As they approached the entrance, Libby slipped off the shawl and the cold night air bit at her bare skin. Oh god, she was going to a Christmas Eve party on her own. Could her life get any more tragic?

But not for much longer. In five days' time, she had a meeting with her old boss at the English National Ballet. He'd called her the day after she'd emailed, delighted to hear from her, overjoyed to learn she was dancing again and ecstatic to discover she might want to come back. That's what she should focus on - her future.

Well, her future and bloody good hair. For some reason known only to Mother Nature, an intense conditioning treatment at the hairdressers had actually worked and her newly highlighted hair hung like a silk curtain. A Christmas miracle.

With her bravest smile plastered on, Libby carried her cashmere shawl over one arm, hoping her legs in her highest black heels would distract anyone from checking out her non-existent cleavage. Of course, if she slipped on the polished wood floor, there was a fair chance people would get to see her non-existent boobs too.

'Hello, angel.' Robbie waylaid her, kissing her cheeks. 'You came. I'm glad.'

'I don't know why. I'd rather be at home reading a book.' Especially since her repeated scanning of the room only confirmed Patrick's absence. Not that she wanted to see him.

'You'll have fun.' He handed her a glass of champagne before looking her over as only he could. 'You didn't fancy making an effort then?'

She managed a genuine laugh. 'Don't let your wife catch you looking at me like that.'

He shot her a wink. 'Seriously, you look beautiful.'

Buoyed up by Robbie's compliments, she wandered across to the seating plan, hoping she'd be sitting at Robbie's table with Patrick on the other side of the room. She found her name and closed her eyes for a second. Oh god. At table nine, she'd be sitting with six people she'd never heard of and Patrick. This was over. She headed for the door.

'Where do you think you're going?' Robbie said, grabbing her arm.

'Can you switch the tables around? Please?'