Marriage and Other Games Read Online Free PDF

the tiny pearls on her tongue, took a sip of the rich but subtle truffle sauce, and finished with a spoon of boozy cherries.
     
    ‘Wonderful!’ she told the chef, who beamed with delight.
     
    The heat of the kitchen was making her feel quite faint, so she hurried into the ballroom, keenly aware that in fifteen minutes the first of the guests would start trickling in. Straight away, she spotted Ed’s personal assistant, Melanie, who’d been helping them with the administration.
     
    Charlotte narrowed her eyes, not quite able to believe what she saw. For Melanie was in white. Bright, white, skin-tight satin. In a nod to the theme, she had stuffed her fat little arms into elbow-length black gloves. Charlotte marched over, anger bubbling up inside. Melanie had always reminded her of a lap dog: small, self-important, with bright, slightly bulging eyes that didn’t miss a trick. In her opinion, Melanie was over-confident for her age and position, with a tendency to be outspoken and opinionated. This was yet another example of her not quite knowing her place. A little voice inside her told her not to make a scene, as Melanie had only flouted the dress code in order to get attention, so she paused for a moment to compose herself.
     
    ‘Which bit of “black” didn’t you understand?’ she finally asked, as sweetly as she could manage.
     
    ‘I can’t believe it!’ said Melanie, looking at her with her round pug eyes. ‘I tried on my dress last week and it fitted perfectly, but I couldn’t get into it today. I am such a yoyo. I knew I shouldn’t have had that Indian on Thursday. Honestly, Charlotte - I’m so sorry. This was the only smart dress I had in my wardrobe. I am so embarrassed.’
     
    The dress in question looked brand new. In fact, Charlotte wouldn’t be surprised if the price tag was still swinging off the label. Melanie was the type to buy a dress and return it the next day pretending it had never been worn. Charlotte could just imagine her hustling for her money back. But she gritted her teeth, and told herself not to rise to the bait.
     
    ‘Could you do the seating plan for the top table?’ she asked, handing Melanie her diagram and carefully written name cards. ‘Then make sure all the auction prizes are laid out properly so people can have a look before they start bidding. And check all the goody bags; make sure no one’s nicked anything.’
     
    Melanie flashed her a glance. For a moment she thought she was going to tell her to stuff it; that she was Ed’s assistant, not Charlotte’s. But something made her think better of it.
     
    ‘Of course,’ she replied, oozing saccharine. ‘And by the way, you look stunning.’
     
    Charlotte felt suitably chastened. She shouldn’t over-react. She supposed she was just nervous about the evening ahead. Across the room, she could see the chief executive of the hospice arrive with his wife, and Ed walk over to greet them. He looked knee-tremblingly handsome in his dinner jacket, as if he should be striding across the moonlit terrace of a Monte Carlo casino. Charlotte swallowed down a lump that had appeared mysteriously in her throat. The evening probably mattered even more to him than it did to her, yet he was managing to stay calm.
     
    ‘Thank you.’ She smiled, touching Melanie lightly on the shoulder in a gesture of forgiveness. She shouldn’t be such a bitch. Melanie was harmless enough.
     
     
    Less than an hour later, the room was heaving as guests knocked back Black Russian cocktails. A magician moved stealthily among them, performing card tricks and sleights of hand. Everyone had pulled out the stops to look gorgeous: bare backs and décolletages that were usually hidden revealed themselves buffed and golden, hair was glossy and flowing, wrists and necks throbbed with exotic scents. Jewels had been extricated from velvet-lined boxes; unfamiliar high heels made the journey across the room treacherous but exciting. The walls resounded with