Who Needs Men Anyway?. Victoria Cooke

      Friday morning was the day of my brunch. I wanted to raise money for the local dog rescue centre and with the guests all pulling out to pamper themselves for Lauren’s ball, I was worried nobody would show up. The banquet hall was set up for the fifty original guests but Emmy and her posse had already taken that number down to forty-two. However, they’d donated eight hundred pounds between them, and paid for tickets, which was very kind but I was still in panic mode at the thought of empty seats. I’d almost caved in and invited Frances and her cronies.

      I stood nervously, greeting people as they trickled in, smiling politely and pointing out the drinks trays when my breath caught in my throat at a recognisable, ear-piercing shrill: ‘Charlotte.’ Mwah, mwah. Lauren had arrived and air-kissed both of my cheeks before I’d had time to register her appearance. ‘This is very cute.’ She gestured to the room.

      Cute? It was lavish with thick white tablecloths and matching chair covers, good quality silverware and champagne being served by fully clothed, handsome men. I doubted even Frances would have found anything negative to say. Okay, that was far-fetched.

      ‘Thank you for coming, Lauren,’ I said, not wanting to make a scene.

      ‘Yes, well I can’t stay long what with the final ball preparations to tend to. I just thought I’d show my face and drop in a donation.’ She thrust a white envelope into my hand.

      ‘That’s very kind of you.’ I accepted it graciously.

      ‘Aw, sweetie, it looks like you needed me too. How many guests do you have? Fifteen?’ She attempted a sympathetic frown but her frozen brow didn’t crease.

      ‘There were fifty confirmed, which was the maximum for the room but I’ve had some last-minute cancellations.’

      She let out a loud, fake laugh and placed a hand on my arm, which I willed her to remove. ‘These Cheshire women – what are they like? They will be preening and pampering themselves for tonight no doubt.’

      ‘No doubt,’ I repeated through a tight smile.

      ‘I’ve one hundred and fifty confirmed for the ball. Tickets started at almost two hundred pounds so I know I’ll make a killing for my charity.’

      I took a deep breath; the last thing I wanted was for my voice to crack. ‘That’s wonderful, Lauren. What’s the fundraising for again? James was asking but I couldn’t remember. I just said that knowing Lauren, it would be a fantastic cause.’

      ‘Er, yes, it is.’ She swallowed hard and placed a meaningful hand on her chest. ‘It’s for victims of botched cosmetic surgery. These women have nowhere to turn, barely any rights, and the state doesn’t want to know. Our funds help to pay for legal fees and in some cases even corrective surgery so they can live the lives they dreamt of.’ There was a falter in her voice.

      ‘Goodness me, you’re an ambassador of hope, Lauren. What poor souls.’ Her smile indicated my sarcasm had escaped her, so I pushed it a little more, to ensure she picked up on something. ‘Such a cause must require a turnout of such great numbers. I wanted a smaller more low-key affair, classy and personal, you know?’

      ‘But isn’t that –’ Lauren paused to squint at a lady who had just walked in.

      ‘That’s Janet, you don’t know her – she’s in high-end retail.’ I sipped my champagne and walked off to greet Janet from Budgens’ who’d thankfully agreed to come and boost my numbers. Enticed by some free tickets at the last minute she’d even brought two friends along.

      Once we were seated and the smoked salmon and scrambled eggs were served, I started to relax and feel wonderful about raising money.

      It was 3 p.m. by the time I got home. There wasn’t time to get a blow-dry or my make-up done – I had to do it all myself so I went with straight and sleek since my hairdressing skills were just about up to the task of running a GHD over my already professionally straightened locks. The gown section of my wardrobe wasn’t sporting anything new, but I had a black off-the-shoulder cocktail dress from Reiss that I’d only worn to James’s summer ball the previous year, which nobody would have seen, so I decided on that. James walked into the bedroom as I was applying my make-up.

      ‘Why are you getting all dressed up?’

      I spun around to face him. ‘What do you mean? Why aren’t you showered?’ I asked, incredulous.

      He looked completely taken by surprise.

      ‘It’s Lauren’s ball tonight. Why aren’t you ready?’ I punctuated with a glare. ‘It’s on the calendar.’

      ‘Sorry, Charlotte, I hadn’t seen it. I’ve planned a Skype meeting tonight.’

      ‘Then cancel it! It’s Friday night for goodness’ sake.’

      ‘I can’t, if I’m not online at 8.30 p.m. sharp, there’ll be hell to pay.’

      ‘But having hell to pay with me isn’t an issue?’

      He let out a sigh and threw up his arms. ‘I’m sorry but there’s nothing I can do. We got our wires crossed, that’s all. You’ll still have a good time.’

      ‘Of course I will, with Emmy and Lauren and co. It will be just fabulous,’ I stormed.

      ‘Aren’t any of your other friends going?’

      ‘Kate’s down in London and . . .’ I paused. ‘I will be fine.’

      Butterflies flapped about in my stomach as my car neared the hotel venue. When the driver approached my side of the car and opened the door, I almost asked him to take me home but, if I did that, it would give the women of Cheshire a few good weeks’ worth of gossip fodder. Instead, I put on my brave face and climbed out of the car. Half-naked, gold-painted men holding trays of champagne lined a red carpet up to the entrance and I grabbed a drink gratefully, guzzling it down in time for another one before I’d reached the entrance.

      ‘Oh, Charlotte, we’re so glad you came.’ Lauren was standing at the entrance in a garish gold, bottom-grazing dress. Her equally unpalatable husband was by her side.

      I smiled. ‘And what a lovely greeting.’ I gestured to the men.

      ‘Where’s that delightful husband of yours?’ The corner of her mouth twitched like she was enjoying seeing me arrive alone. Granted it was a little awkward turning up to events like that but she didn’t have to relish in my discomfort.

      ‘He’s busy with work – he has this huge case going on.’

      ‘Well, he needs a better team around him if he still has to work Friday nights,’ Lauren’s husband Giles butted in. ‘Tell him I could teach him a lesson or two.’ Patronising prick.

      ‘Never mind, Charlotte, there are some ladies from the bridge club who’ve also come alone. You can sit with them.’ I smiled in response and started to walk inside but felt Lauren’s hand on my arm. ‘I love your dress by the way. Isn’t it a 2017 piece?’ There was a hint of smugness in her tone.

      Anger exploded in my chest. I couldn’t take much more of this woman.

      ‘Yes, it is. Apparently, garments don’t spontaneously combust at the turn of a season – who knew?’ I spun on my heel and walked over to the table of bridge ladies, which looked like the casting couch for Cocoon. The rest of the evening was rather dull. The elderly bridge ladies didn’t work hard to include me in their conversation, which consisted mostly of loud repetition because one of them ‘doesn’t like to wear her hearing aid any more’ and I found the ‘victim’ speeches a little self-indulgent. Obviously, I’m sorry things didn’t go well for them but they’re all wealthy people; they didn’t need Lauren’s fundraising circus. I’d been working hard to drown out the narcissistic din of Lauren’s speech until hearing my name made my ears prick.

      ‘Now, Charlotte Emsworth held a sweet little gathering earlier today and I know some of