Read The Birthday Party for Free Online Page B

be able to cycle to the top. Her legs were already trembling,
     so she climbed off and began the ascent.
    ‘I
will not ask a lovelier dream, A sweeter scene, fair Thames, than thine
…’ she murmured as she looked down at the famous
     view – the only view in England to be protected by an act of Parliament. And rightly so – the sight made her heart soar every
     time. The lush green meadows, the mighty trees, the silver thread of the river pushing its way determinedly through the verdant
     landscape, and in the far distance, on a clear day, the outline of Hampton Court. It was a slice of English countryside in
     the middle of town, and the reason why so many celebrities had made Richmond their home. With the centre of London only twenty
     minutes by train, yet the splendours of the Thames and Richmond Park on your doorstep, it was the perfect compromise. And
     the spattering of high-end boutiques, delis, restaurants, the theatre, and the Green – what more could a wealthy, aspirational
     family ask for?
    Eventually, panting and perspiring, she reached the crest of the hill and came to a halt outside the electronic gates of The
     Bower. Delilah and Raf had resisted this type of security for years, but had eventually capitulated, after several attempted
     break-ins, prowlers and press intrusion.
    The house was an estate agent’s dream. Queen Anne listed, it was perfectly proportioned, a large family home that was neither
     ostentatious nor unmanageable, with every twenty-first-century luxury sympathetically integrated into its gracious walls.
     Polly pressed the code that allowed her access through the tradesman’s gate, pushed her bike through and left it propped against
     the garage wall before slipping through another gate into the garden and down the path that led to heroffice, housed in a little lodge that also contained a gym and the massive laundry room.
    It was Friday, which meant she had to order up food for tomorrow’s lunch, as well as flowers. She needed to check with the
     housekeeper that scented candles and soaps were all in stock. She needed to organise deliveries from the butcher, greengrocer,
     cheesemonger, wine merchant and bakery, depending on what Delilah had decided to cook. Extricating this information from her
     was the most difficult task: Delilah hated to be pinned down, but unless Polly got the menu from her by midday, she wouldn’t
     get the ingredients. The days of Delilah having either the time or the inclination to wander into Richmond and do the shopping
     herself were long gone. And Polly knew her likes and dislikes only too well by now, her preferred brands and varieties.
    She flicked on the lights, booted up the computer and pottered across the garden, into the main house by the back door then
     through into the kitchen.
    This room was familiar to nearly everyone in the land, as it was where Delilah’s cookery show was shot. Nearly thirty foot
     by twenty, it was fitted with hand-built cupboards painted in rich cream, limestone flooring and a semi-circular island topped
     with white marble, behind which Delilah cooked the mouth-watering food that was emulated in virtually every kitchen nationwide.
     The canary-yellow Lacanche cooker into which she slid her concoctions was almost as famous as she was.
    Adjoining the kitchen was the orangery where Delilah’s guests were filmed devouring the food she made in each episode. This
     in turn overlooked the walled garden, where a stone terrace looked down on a series of three tiered ink-black pools. Here
     and there were dotted pieces of antique statuary mixed with more modern pieces of garden sculpture – Raf’s passion – the pride
     of which was an entwined couple made of wire. This had been Delilah’s twenty-fifth wedding anniversary present to him.
    Delilah was sitting on a high stool at the island, her paraphernalia around her. She was just hanging up her phone. She looked
     pale, slightly shocked.
    ‘Delilah?’ Polly rushed