The Surprise Party

Read on for an exclusive extract from Sue Welfare’s new novel

Prologue

Chapter One

Mum on the Run - Fiona Gibson

About the Author

By the same author

About the Publisher (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter One

‘If you could just take the balloons and the rest of your equipment round to the back, please. We don’t want anything to give the game away, do we?’ Suzie said, pointing the way to the young man who was standing on the front lawn of her parents’ house with a helium cylinder and a large cardboard box on a trolley. ‘And then if you could just move your van?’

The young man was wearing spotless navy blue overalls and a baseball cap emblazoned with the legend: ‘Danny from Cheryl’s Party Paradiso – we help you live your fantasy’. His van was topped with big glass-fibre balloons and a trail of lurid candyfloss pink and silver stars.

If acne was your fantasy, Danny was your man. He didn’t move.

‘It’s meant to be a surprise,’ Suzie said as brightly as she could manage. It had been a long, long day, and there were still lots of things to do, but there didn’t appear to be so much as a flicker of comprehension from Danny.

‘For my parents? Rose and Jack? It’s their ruby wedding anniversary – it’s written on the balloons? We’re having a party. Round the back?’ she said in desperation.

Still nothing.

‘You really can’t miss it, there’s a great big marquee in the garden.’

Finally Danny smiled. Suzie couldn’t help wondering if he had been sniffing the contents of the gas cylinder in his spare time.

‘Is that that woman off the telly?’ he said, pointing towards the front door.

‘Ah,’ said Suzie, groaning inwardly. ‘Yes it is. She’s my sister.’

‘No!’ said Danny, eyes wide with amazement. ‘Wow, really? That’s awesome.’

Suzie stared at him and sighed.

Lizzie was standing on the doorstep of their parents’ cottage, perfectly framed by a mass of pink roses climbing up over the porch. She was wearing something artfully casual and horribly expensive and was apparently just taking in the view. She had arrived about half an hour earlier and, to the untrained observer, it might look as if she was standing in the porch by accident, but a lifetime of having Lizzie as a little sister had taught Suzie that she was standing there waiting to be noticed.

Danny reddened as Lizzie apparently noticed them. She flicked her hair over her shoulder, beamed in their direction and did one of those little show-bizzy fingertip waves before sashaying over.

‘Well, hello there,’ she purred, taking in the logo on the young man’s overalls as she extended her hand towards him. ‘Lovely to see you. You must be Danny.’

The boy, all embarrassment and eagerness, looked as if he might explode. ‘That’s me,’ he said, as they shook hands. ‘Danny.’

‘And how are you, Danny ?’

‘Oh right, I’m fine – yeah, really great – thank you,’ he spluttered.

‘Good, now would you mind awfully taking all this lot round the back of the house and getting rid of the van? This is supposed to be a surprise party and it’s a bit of a giveaway.’

‘I’ve already told him that,’ Suzie began; not that the boy was listening.

‘Right-oh,’ he said to Lizzie. ‘Course, not a problem. I watch you all the time on Starmaker, you know.’

‘Really?’ Lizzie smiled. ‘Well, thank you, Danny, that is so good to know. And you’ve been enjoying the new series, have you?’

‘Oh God, yeah, this last lot was the best one yet – and that Kenny – I mean, who would have thought he’d a won? I was thinking Cassandra . . .’ Danny stopped and reddened up a touch. ‘I don’t suppose I could have your autograph, could I?’ he said, thrusting his clipboard out towards her. ‘Only my girlfriend is never going to believe me when I tell her that I’ve met you. She really likes you as well.’

Lizzie’s smile warmed a few degrees more. ‘Of course you can, Danny.’ She took the pen from between his fingers. ‘What would you like me to put?’

‘Oh I dunno. I can’t think . . .’ he said.

Now there’s an understatement, thought Suzie grimly.

Lizzie pressed the pen to her lips, apparently deep in thought. ‘How about “To Danny, thank you for making my party so very special, lots of love, Lizzie Bingham, kiss, kiss, kiss”?’ She purred, barely breaking eye contact as she scribbled across what looked like it might be their delivery note. ‘Would you like me to put, “You’re the star, that’s what you are?”’

It was the Starmaker reality show’s catchphrase, but on Lizzie’s lips it sounded positively erotic.

Danny giggled and blushed the colour of cherryade. ‘Oh my God, right, well yeah, that’d be lovely, thanks,’ he blustered, waiting to take back the clipboard. Making an effort to compose himself, he said, ‘So are there going to be a lot of famous people here tonight then?’

All smiles, Lizzie tipped her head to one side, implying her lips were sealed, while managing to suggest that anything was possible. ‘We’re just glad that you’re here,’ she said after a second or two.

Suzie shook her head in disbelief; the woman was a complete master class in innuendo and manipulation. Poor little Danny was putty in Liz’s perfectly manicured hands.

‘Righty-oh,’ said the boy, coming over all macho and protective. ‘Well in that case best I’d get a move on then, hadn’t I? Get these balloons sorted.’

‘Thank you, that would be great. Hope to catch you later,’ Lizzie said, all teeth and legs and long, long eyelashes.

‘Oh, for God’s sake, put him down,’ said Suzie under her breath as Danny strode away like John Wayne, dragging his gas bottle behind him. ‘Do you have to do that?’

‘Oh, come on,’ said Lizzie, switching off the glamour like a light bulb. ‘You’re just jealous and I was listening, remember – you weren’t getting anywhere with him. Besides, he loved it. Did you see his face? It’s made his day, probably his decade. You know you always have to remember the little people, darling,’ she said in a mock-starry voice, with a big grin. ‘They’re the ones who can make you or break you; although I have to say it really pisses me off that after ten years of a career in serious journalism, it’s two series of that bloody reality TV show that’s finally put me on Joe Public’s GPS.’

‘Come off it, Lizzie, if you’re looking for sympathy you’ve come to the wrong place. You told me you hated roughing it – living out of a knapsack with no toilets, constant helmet hair, and how being embedded with the troops played hell with your skin.’

‘Well it does – just look at Kate Adie and that Irish woman – have they never heard of moisturiser?’ Lizzie peered myopically at her watch. ‘What time did you say Mum and Dad are due back?’

‘Still not wearing your glasses?’

‘Oh please. It’s fine if you’re Kate Silverton, all feline and serious, the thinking man’s love bunny, but trust me it really hasn’t worked in light entertainment since Eric Morecambe.’

‘What about contacts—’

‘Darling, I’ve got more contacts than you could wave a wet stick at,’ Liz said slyly with a wolfish grin.

‘You know what I mean, and don’t come over all starry with me, kiddo. Remember I was there with you when you were in your jarmies interviewing Billy the guinea pig and Flopsy rabbit with a hairbrush.’