Page 37 of Wife After Wife

Cassandra took a very obvious sip of hers. “Not bad. Notes of Tesco chardonnay.”

There was an awkward pause, then Ana said, “The caterers were saying it has a lovely crispness, just right for a summer party.”

“Ana, darling,” said Will. “I see you’re channeling Hepburn. Iadorethe look.”

And she adored his soft Scottish accent.

“While everyone else is wilting,” he said, “you manage to look cool as a cucumber, as always.”

More guests were now arriving. Harry took Katie’s arm and went to greet them.

Cassandra was swaying slightly as she sipped her wine, and her eyes kept sliding over to Megan. Ana watched her, feeling uneasy, wishing she’d ease up on the drink—they didn’t want any dramas to spoil the smooth running of the evening.

“Megan,” she said. “Can I just check with you about... our special guest?” She twitched her head toward the area behind the tables.

Thankfully, Megan remembered the real reason she was there, and followed Ana.

“Doesn’t Charles look utterlygorgeousin a suit?” she said, gazing across at him.

“Don’t, Megan. His wife’s already looking daggers at you. Do you want to cause a scene at your first big event? Get professional.”

Megan pouted. “OK, sorry. I’ll behave. Ah, here’s Percy. At least one of us will be getting some tonight.”

Ana’s fiancé was looking dapper in a Paul Smith suit. He shared a few words with Harry, then came over. “Ana, you look incredible. Hi, Megan. Dig the corkscrew curls. Hey, I finally got to meet your famous brother! He seems really nice.”

“He’s the best,” said Megan. “Right, I’d better make myself useful. Ana—you’re off the hook now. Go have fun with Percy. Party on!”

Ana smiled. They’d recently been to seeWayne’s World, and Megan had adopted the battle cry.

The trickle of people turned into a steady stream, and the marquee started to buzz.

“So who’s who, then?” said Percy. He looked around with interest.

Ana pointed out a few people.

“That’s Katie Rose? I thought Harry would be married to someone more glamorous. And she’s got to be quite a bit older than him.”

“She’s pregnant, in case you hadn’t noticed,” said Ana. “How could anyone look glamorous lugging a subcutaneous baby around in this heat? I think it’s brave of her to come at all. And has it occurred to you Harry might love her for her brain?”

Percy looked taken aback. “Sorry, yes, of course. Mustn’t be mean about the boss’s wife.”

“What’s the time?” said Ana suddenly, scanning the room for Megan. She spotted her coming back with Terri.

“You’re not needed,” said Terri, waving Ana away.

Percy’s eyes widened. “Cruella?” he muttered.

“How did you guess?”

Megan touched Harry on the arm and whispered something in his ear. He murmured a few words to the minor royals he’d been talking to and guided Katie over to the red carpet.

Ana couldn’t help but gasp as David Bowie and his statuesque new wife, Iman, entered the marquee. Bowie wore a sea-green jacket over beige trousers, and a spotted red tie. Suddenly every other man in the room looked exceedingly dull.

As everyone craned their necks for a better look, Ana noticed Lizzie, the art editor, peeling the overlay off the huge poster to one side of the stage. It was a blowup of theRack’s first cover, and until now there was a question mark where the image should have been.

The black-and-white photograph showed a different Bowie from the affable man on the red carpet—unsmiling, challenging, those famous eyes dominating the cover with their direct gaze. The (Pantone Rose Red) typography read,IS IT ANY WONDER? BOWIE ON FAME, LOVE, AND LIVING IN AMERICA.

The crowd parted as Harry ushered the couple to the stage, a few feeble flashes firing as guests attempted a snapshot with their goody-bagcameras. Terri had bollocked Megan for including them, wondering why they’d banned press photographers if “every Tom, Dick, and Harry” at the party was going to be given a camera.