The Party Season Read Online Free PDF

haven't seen any of them for years,' I say in a very small voice, conveniently forgetting my 'almost' meeting with Simon.
    'Simon Monkwell?' interjects Stephanie in wonder. '
The
Simon Monkwell? You
know
him?' This is said in an accusatory tone. She's always in a foul mood in these meetings because Gerald banned her from smoking in here after the time she asked one of us to 'chuck her a fag' and Aidan threw himself across the room with 'Here I am darling!' Gerald couldn't get any sense out of us for about half an hour.
    'Em, sort of.'
    'How, sort of?' persists Gerald.
    'Er, I knew the family as a kid. I grew up on Simon's country estate with him. Why?' I decide to play the innocent.
    'Someone called Monty Monkwell called me this morning.'
    'Really? That's Simon's father.'
    'Yes. Apparently he heard you were in the party planning business through your Aunt Winnie. The one who thinks I'm a communist.' Aunt Winnie is well known to everyone at Table Manners. She has long conversations with anyone in the office who is hapless enough to take her calls.
    'Through my Aunt Winnie?' I frown. Aunt Winnie would have mentioned it if she'd been in touch with one of the Monkwells.
    'Well, not exactly through Aunt Winnie. Apparently through a Mrs Charlesty who had been speaking to your Aunt Winnie. I've got all the details. A charity ball is being organised up at the estate—'
    'Pantiles,' I fill in.
    'Yes, Pantiles. He wondered if you would be able to go along and help out. The fee he's offering isn't much but if you do well, and bearing in mind you actually know the family,' he throws me a nasty look here, 'we might be able to get our foot in the door for the corporate entertaining contract for Simon Monkwell's company. Which, I don't need to tell you, would be massive business. Only last week
The Times
named him as one of the most up and coming entrepreneurs in the country.'
    'And
Tatler
named him one of their top fifty eligible bachelors. He's dreamy-looking,' Stephanie throws in. 'That huge country estate. Think of all the money.' She stares off longingly into the distance.
    'What does he do exactly?' asks someone.
    'Buys companies, tears them apart, sells them off. With their permission or without it. Fairly ruthless by reputation.'
    'Not just by reputation,' I murmur to myself. The discussion becomes more animated and everyone leans forward, anxious to add their piece.
    'Doesn't he insist on personally firing all the management of the companies he takes over?'
    'Something about how he likes to gloat over their failure?'
    'Didn't he lay off a thousand workers from his last company?'
    'Okay all right everyone, so the man doesn't exactly smell of roses, but that doesn't change the colour of his money,' Gerald interrupts the proceedings before they deteriorate. 'If we discounted all our clients on the basis of the morality of their money we'd probably only have about two left. I might ask you, Izzy, why you never deemed it important enough to mention here?'
    'Simon and I didn't get on.' I shrug my shoulders and stare down at my pad. Simon Monkwell and I were best friends. Note the past tense. Were best friends.
    'How old were you?'
    'Eleven.'
    'How can you not get on when you're eleven? Did you steal his mint humbugs? Did you row over who'd had the roller skates last? I don't think he'll hold it against you.'
    'When is the ball?' I ask, flipping my huge, stalwart diary, every party planner's faithful companion, open for December.
    'Next month.'
    'Next month?' I look up in horror.
    'Apparently the charity have had to move venue at the last minute and asked the estate if they could relocate there, which is why Monty Monkwell wants you along to help out.'
    'But there's not enough time. I can't organise a ball within a month!'
    'They might have a lot organised already. I've booked you in for a fact-finding meeting on Monday. So just go along and see what needs to be done.'
    'I'm going to see my Aunt Winnie for the weekend; she lives quite