The Yacht Party (Lara Stone)

‘Thanks for coming to my favourite restaurant in the world and I’m so happy to be here to share it with all of you. I have no idea how Alicia did it in complete and utter secrecy.’

More laughter from those who knew Alicia and how super-organised she was. More still from those who knew that Alicia had consulted Ale

x at every stage of the ‘surprise’ from venue to cake to guest list. ‘There’s no point in wasting time or money on people you dislike,’ she had said crisply during one of their planning meetings. She had even insisted on holding the party on a Monday night: the Tuesday edition was always slow. No point in letting festivities get in the way of your career.

But Alex had to admit the end result had been worth it all. It was a perfect evening, from the blood orange Negronis at the drinks reception to the petit fours, it had all been thought through and perfectly executed. There was only one thing missing, but Alex knew he only had himself to blame for that.

Speech over, Alex shrugged off a final round of applause and made his way over to Alicia.

‘Hey you,’ he whispered into her ear, snaking a hand around her waist and kissing her neck. She smelt great. Even better than she looked. And Alicia always looked terrific.

‘It was just perfect Alicia, thank you.’

She smiled modestly.

‘You’re very welcome. I love to see you smile.’

‘Meaning I don’t usually?’

She laughed.

‘Meaning I don’t see it enough.’

Alex nodded, feeling a pang of guilt, because she was right. He had met Alicia at a Christmas party just a week after he’d been promoted to Deputy Editor, so to Alicia his 15-hour working days were normal. But they weren’t, he knew that.

‘I’ll work on that smile with you,’ he said. ‘But first I should go and talk to my dad,’ he said, noticing Terry Ford leaving the dining room.

‘And thanks for bringing him down. Now that was a surprise.’

‘Always like to keep you guessing,’ she said, throwing a grin over her shoulder as she went to mingle. Alex followed his father out through double doors into a small courtyard garden filled with flowers and potted ferns. It was good to get out into the fresh air, even if he was closed in on all sides by other parts of the restaurant.

‘Great speech, lad,’ said his father as Alex approached. ‘Great party too.’

‘I’m glad you’re here,’ said Alex, as he embraced the old man. Terry felt small, thinner, but Alex held on, enjoying the feeling. It had been six months since he’d last seen his father and it was only now that he realised just how much he had missed him.

‘So you’re coming back to mine tonight?’

‘No, Alicia’s put me up in Claridge’s.’

Alex couldn’t hide his surprise.

‘Claridge’s?’ he said.

‘I know,’ grinned Terry. ‘I was as gobsmacked as you. Not that I’m complaining. 24-hour room service, everything laid on. Been a long time since I was so pampered.’

Alex examined his father’s face: was that a comment about his mum? Since she had passed away five years before, Terry had been fending for himself, juggling his newsagent’s shop in the village with domestic life. The shop had closed the previous year – his father had tried to keep it going as long as he could, selling loo roll, baked beans and tea bags alongside a dwindling stock of magazines and papers, but had finally flipped the ‘closed’ sign for the last time, calling it early retirement rather than pointing out the real cause: newspapers just weren’t selling any more. Still, even though Terry had less to worry about now, Alex wasn’t sure how well his father was coping. He was the kind of man who liked to stay active.

‘Next time I’ll do the pampering,’ said Alex. ‘And we should definitely do this more. We don’t see enough of each other.’

Terry squeezed his shoulder.

‘You have a big newspaper to run, son. You’re busy.’

‘But I could come up more. I don’t want you thinking I don’t want to see you.’

Terry was shaking his head, an amused smile on his face.

‘That genuinely never crossed my mind,’ he said. ‘Seriously Alex, I’m your dad, all I want is for you to go out into the world and succeed at whatever you do. And…’ he gestured towards the sumptuous surroundings. ‘…it definitely looks like you’re succeeding. It’s a long way from the White Lion, that’s for sure.’