Detained

Darcy watched the room intently. She needed to avoid being seen by Peter Parker or Aileen McVale. It helped she looked wildly different in her finery from the woman who’d come out swinging in their office this morning. More importantly, she needed to track Will.

She knew the knots in her stomach were about the risk of getting caught, not nervousness about seeing him. Because there was no guarantee he’d come, and no way to anticipate how seeing him again would make her feel. Her knuckles were bruised and sore but her resolve had hardened. She hated Will Parker and he’d get what he deserved.

“This is more fun than a mudslide,” said Robert, exchanging his empty glass of wine for a full one as a waiter swept by. “You know charity is controlled by the Party here. Private charitable organisations, like what Parker is doing, are a big deal.”

“Maybe you shouldn’t be drinking so much, honey,” said Darcy, taking the glass from his hand. She didn’t think Parker and charity belonged in the same sentence. “Are you all set? If we’re lucky I’ll spot Will quickly, and we won’t even need to find a table.”

“And if he doesn’t come?”

Darcy shrugged, making the fringed beading on her skirt shimmer. “Then I’m all dressed up with nowhere to go.” And totally screwed over.

“Stand there while I test the camera for this light,” said Robert, moving Darcy to the left of the orchids. “Smile, babe,” he laughed.

While Robert played with camera settings, Darcy saw Aileen sweep into the room on the arm of a much older man. The banker husband had white hair and a regal manner. In a full-length red satin dress that left her shoulders bare and had slits to both thighs and black elbow length gloves, Aileen looked part royal consort, part dominatrix.

Peter Parker made an entry a few minutes behind her. His date, wife, escort, whoever she was, wore virginal white, the dress so tight she was forced to take small steps. Twice Peter had to turn back to look for her. He seemed impatient about that. He looked like the wealthiest man in the room. Everything about him seemed to shine.

Seeing Aileen and Peter was a relief. It was a sign this plan had a chance. There’d been every possibility the event was sponsored by Parker but more junior company flunkies did the honours. Gerry had bet on it. It was a spine-stiffener to know Gerry was wrong.

Darcy watched the door. Will wasn’t already in the room, she was sure of it, so maybe he really wasn’t coming. She couldn’t think about that. She turned her attention to the fast filling tables. She needed to find places they could sit. Right up until the official speeches there was still a chance Will might show.

She jumped when Robert touched her hand. “Over there, table thirty-two.” He was pointing towards the back of the room. “Someone’s kid’s sick, we can sit there.”

“How do you know that?”

He laughed. “My father is deaf. I lip-read.”

“You could’ve told me that.”

“Like a good Lin Gui I like to keep my weapons hidden.”

“Lin what?”

“Chinese Ninja. Come on, I’m starving.”

At the table, Robert said, “Smile and nod,” and launched into introductions, explanations, who knew, but Darcy smiled and nodded, and got smiles and nods back from the others at the table.

Sitting down she felt less conspicuous, but it was also harder to scope the room out. In this crowd, maybe five hundred people, she might never see Will.

The first dishes arrived. Shark fin soup, braised abalone with vegetables, sirloin steak with broccoli. Waiters circled with wine. Peter Parker worked the other end of the room, shaking hands and laughing. Robert said he was speaking Shanghainese, talking about fundraising. More dishes arrived. Crispy whole fried chicken, stir fried lobster with ginger and scallions, steamed fish. Darcy took Robert’s glass away and two of the women at the table laughed. Husbands who drank too much were obviously a problem needing no common language.

Dessert arrived. Sweet red bean soup and dish made of ground chestnuts and whipped cream called Peking Dust. A band started playing and couples got up to dance.

Will Parker slipped into the room when Darcy had given up expecting to see him. When she’d chugged her own second glass of wine and copped an elbow in her bead-covered ribs from Robert.

She was separated from Will by four rows of tables and a mass of swirling movement, but she knew he’d arrived because chills rolled up the back of her neck. He was directly in her line of sight. She grabbed Robert’s arm and sank into his side as Will’s gaze roved across the room. His unruly hair was brushed smooth. His tux was an old-fashioned glamour number with satin stripes down the pants legs. He had the jacket slung carelessly over his shoulder and his bow tie was undone. He looked every bit the wily pirate and her pulse pounded at the sight of him.

He was looking for someone and for one untamed moment Darcy hoped it was her. Then she remembered.

“Babe,” said Robert and he flung an arm around her shoulders. “That him?”

“That’s him.” She kept her face averted, eyes down on her lap.

“He’s a commanding looking dude.”

“He’s a duplicitous bastard.”

“He’s, er, coming this way.”