“Fine.” Bean rattles her hangers along noisily. “Whatever. I mean, honestly. It’s only a dress.”
I treat that remark with the disdain it deserves. There’s no such thing as “only” a dress. I watch as Bean gets out her black sleeveless dress （nice, but inferior）， steps into it, and starts applying speedy makeup, peering into her dressing-table mirror without bothering to sit down.
“Shall I tong your hair?” I offer, out of habit.
“No thanks. Can’t be bothered. I’ll put it up in a clip.” She looks at herself and grimaces as her phone bleeps with a new WhatsApp. She reads it and rolls her eyes. “Krista, asking where I am. Just coming!” she says, typing the message, then puts her phone in her evening bag. “Humph is here, by the way. I ran into him in the garden.”
“Humph?” I gape at her.
“I know.” Bean starts to giggle. “Krista’s beside herself with glee. She keeps introducing him as ‘the Honorable Humph.’？”
“Oh my God.” I clap a hand over my face. “Is he wearing his tweed cap? Has he brought six Labradors with him?”
“No, no!” Bean wheels round, her face alight with laughter. “Haven’t you seen Humph recently? He’s totally changed. He’s wearing a black shirt under his dinner jacket. No tie. And he’s got a beard. And he does Transcendental Meditation.”
“Transcendental Meditation?” I blink at her. Someone less likely to do Transcendental Meditation than Humph I can’t imagine. Unless it was Transcendental Meditation on a horse, while drinking sloe gin.
“And he’s telling everyone he’s a feminist.”
“What?”
“I know. He said it without even blinking. Apparently he dated some nutritionist in London who changed his life.”
“Is she here?” I ask, agog.
“No, they split up, but he still does the meditation. He’s coming to the family dinner too.”
“Humph is?” I exclaim in outrage. “He’s not family!”
“Oh, I know, but Krista got her mitts into him a couple of months ago. She’s such a social climber. You should have heard her. ‘Have you met the Honorable Humph, Bean? Isn’t he a charmer?’ I was like, ‘Krista, we all know Humph, and he’s a prat.’？”
“But how on earth can she justify inviting him to a family dinner?” I stare at Bean.
“She’s calling him a ‘close friend.’？” Bean rolls her eyes. “You can’t believe how brazen she is. Humph has started some woo-woo health clinic, and of course Krista goes to it, so now they’re besties.”
“Urgh.” I make a face, then suddenly remember the conversation I overheard downstairs. “Bean, listen. Krista’s announcing something at dinner that’s going to cause feathers to fly, apparently. Don’t know what. I overheard her telling someone called Lace.”
“That’s her sister, Lacey,” says Bean slowly. “Oh God, Effie. You don’t think Krista and Dad…They’re not planning to…？”
My eyes widen as I take in Bean’s meaning. I have an appalling image of Krista sashaying down the aisle in a white body-con dress, smirking through a veil, while Bean and I follow dismally behind, sprinkling rose petals.
“It can’t be that,” I say in horror. “Can it?”
“Guess I’ll find out later,” says Bean, sounding resigned. “I’ll text you. Oh, and Krista’s asked Joe to the family dinner too. Because he’s famous—sorry, I mean a very dear, close friend.” She gives a snort. “At least that’s true in Joe’s case…” Then she swivels round, as though suddenly worried she’s hurt me. “At least…he was a friend.”
“He still is,” I say staunchly. “Joe is a close friend. Nothing that happened between us changes that.”
“Hmm.” Bean looks as though she wants to say more—then thinks better of it. “Well, you’re missing out,” she adds, swiveling back to put away her mascara. “It’s obviously going to be the dinner party of the century. What are you going to do now? You can sit here, if you like. I’ll bring you a drink.”
“No, I need to get on.” I leap to my feet, inwardly berating myself for sitting here, chatting away with Bean. “Will you help me before you go? Can you shift those tea chests? I don’t dare to myself.”
“Sure,” says Bean, putting her phone in her evening bag and slinging the chain over her shoulder. “But then I’d better go down. Are you going to leave as soon as you’ve got the dolls?”