‘Sorry. But I knew it was me they wanted out there. Next time it’ll be you.’
‘Absolutely,’ agreed Tabitha, hastening up the steps in search of her first glass of champagne.
‘I’m going to hide in the kitchen for the first half hour,’ said Jenna, ‘like we agreed. I’m not having people looking at me instead of your art.’ She tiptoed to kiss his cheek. ‘Break a leg, darling. And don’t forget your manners.’
He winked back. ‘I won’t pinch any bums except yours, promise.’
Jenna escaped through the solid oak door behind the great staircase. The kitchen was off-limits to guests, but it was hardly a relaxing place to be, buzzing with caterers and waiting staff who swooped around Jenna with silver trays of champagne and canapés.
Kayley stood in the middle of the whirlwind, directing it all.
‘Do they need me out there?’ she said, spotting Jenna.
‘I don’t think so. Tabitha will come and find you if they do,’ she said, seating herself at one of the bar stools.
Kayley glanced quickly through the open French doors. The patio was accessible to guests through a side door and already a few were coming outside to socialise – clearly here to network rather than discover a brilliant new talent, thought Jenna crossly, following her friend’s gaze.
‘I’m a little bit worried about her,’ said Kayley, dropping her voice.
‘Who?’
‘Jason’s mum. She’s out there somewhere and I’m pretty sure she took one of the opened champagne bottles with her. By the time I cottoned on, I was too busy trying to organise the waitresses.’
‘Oh God,’ said Jenna. ‘Shall I try and find her?’
‘Oh . . . it’ll be fine,’ said Kayley. ‘I expect she’ll just fall asleep under a bush or something.’
‘Kayley! I don’t think Jason wants pics of his mum snoring on the ground all over Instagram tomorrow. I’m going out to look for her.’
Jenna put aside the glass of champagne she’d been handed and headed outside. She was stopped half a dozen times and made a point of stopping and exchanging a few pleasantries with each group. But her eyes roved continually over the wilder parts of the garden, in search of a small bleach-blonde woman in a faded denim jacket, clutching a bottle.
‘Jenna Diamond! You dark horse!’
A famous actress who’d made the transition from British stage to Hollywood stood in front of Jenna, arms outstretched.
‘Annabel! I didn’t know you were in the country, or I’d have invited you. But . . . clearly I did invite you . . .’
‘I’m Desmond’s plus-one. It’s a flying visit. You promised you’d keep in touch, and here I am, depending on the red tops for your news. You look wonderful, darling.’
‘So do you.’ She paused, feeling awkward. Obviously, everyone was dying for the gossip about her and Jason, and the split with Deano and all the drama in between. But she had no intention of discussing any of it with anyone.
‘So, how have you been?’ Annabel meant business.
‘Well, put it this way. Don’t ever take a sabbatical. They’re bloody exhausting.’
Annabel’s laugh tinkled through the damp, thick air. The rain had stopped but there was still a looming purplish sky overhead.
‘I suppose you weren’t expecting an artistic genius to fall into your lap,’ she said, putting a beautifully manicured hand on Jenna’s forearm.
‘No, well, quite. Sorry, darling, but would you excuse me for just a moment. There’s somebody I have to find.’
‘Of course. Catch you later. Mwah.’
They air kissed briefly, then Jenna hurried on, past the fairylights and bay trees in pots, towards the recently-cleared ornamental beds.
Just a little further on stood the tree with the initials carved upon it.
Jenna felt herself drawn there, but not because she expected to find Jason’s mother underneath it.