start of **WONDERLAND (PT1)**
🎄 Saskia had never eaten such delicacies in the whole of her life; hadn't even heard of some of the food Neil ordered. She joked (he'd hoped) that she thought foie gras was something to do with cars, but he'd cogitated over time she really could, periodically, be a ditzy (dyed) blonde. More expensive menus, she knew, brought about some rare and unique dishes.
But at dessert she felt genuinely bad at having to put a spoon through that lacy string dome to get to the violet ice cream floral perfection, and Neil had to draw the line at her wanting to take a picture of it before its upcoming demolishing. This was the first time she had eaten out anywhere without condiments (in square pots or otherwise) present on the table. It was quite a thrill. Apart from waving her fork inelegantly around in the air, and picking candle wax drips off with her fingernail, she behaved very well for a posh-food novice.
Replete with her posh nosh-up, walking from the restaurant into the main function room was magical; from satiation to delectation. Christmas decorations adorned every wall, window and door. Helium-filled gold and green balloons wavered every so often from tables, alongside parades of luxury crackers awaited pulling, their innards - no doubt - destined for the bin. Lit holly boughs draped every wall, helter-skeltered round every pillar, and on every door sat a coruscated wreath.
The biggest, most impressive tree Saskia had ever clapped eyes on stood proudly in near-symmetrical splendor. She circled it at least ten times to catch its beauty. It was when admiring the huge star-topper that she noticed a net hanging high above holding up a humongous amount of balloons, promising jollity and mirth for later release. The girl was enraptured, near speechless, which pleased Neil immensely.
'Wow... this is breathtaking, Dad!' she said, all the while anticipating this particular Christmas night out would be rip-roaringly hard to match.
'Isn't it just?' quipped Neil. 'Shows I have a heart at least once a year. C'mon... let's grab a drink before the madding crowd appear!' A top table was reserved for them and a few select others, and while they sat - the only meantime couple in the hall - the hotel caterers and DJ started to prepare for the evening roistering.
'I'm quite nervous meeting new people,' she blurted out, swigging her champagne far too readily.
'Oi! Let's not go mental with the drink.' He smiled wryly and took the glass from her hand, laying it in front of her. A rerun of gig-night would pop up in his memory from time to time, and as much as she had behaved responsibly since, he didn't want to chance a repeat performance. 'We'll wait till after the vultures arrive, then go nuts.'
'Fair do's... ' she shrugged, willing to exchange glugs for sips meantime.
With their glasses filled with champagne (he'd be on the JD's soon as his 'table friends' were here) a second time, guests started to ingress almost on the dot. With a free bar all night and travel expenses home already funded to them, they'd be mad not to make the most of it.
Saskia felt rather silly standing near the door and greeting the new arrivals beside a waiter and waitress with trays of champagne flutes.
'Jesus Christ, Dad, we're not at a wedding... this feels daft!' Saskia whispered between hellos.
'Shh... we'll just give it half an hour, it's the way things are done.'
'Yeah, in Henry the bloody Eighth's day maybe! I'm surprised you didn't arrange a fanfare...'
He clipped her shoe with the side of his, in a signal for her to shut it as they both struggled to contain a laugh. For tonight, at least, there would be no majestic approach; his staff could drop addressing him as sir tonight - most opted for Mr. Balfour. All but a favoured few and the odd brave one would use first name terms.
As expected, the first festively-draped was a younger bunch; some having brought their change of clothes with them to work, not wanting wasting a moment. Despite not mingling too much with his staff at work, he was still very good at remembering names.
'Saskia, this is Alastair, Claire, Rufus - or Rudolf as he's called this time of year - and Emilyne.'
'Hello,' she smiled pleasantly at them, shaking each hand, not sure if an exchange of words were expected. She felt it weirdly regal and unnecessary but thrilling at the same time. They grabbed a drink each and settled themselves at the table next to their boss's. From the corner of her eye, Saskia could see their heads turning her way, and above the girls' shushing she made out:
'Must take after her mum 'cause she really doesn't look like him, thank God! Mind you, with all that money he was never gonna produce a fugly, was he?'
Saskia gave an intentional little cough just to unnerve the boys. Her own nerves had remarkably waned, swapped with this unique sense of pertinence. Just to rile them a bit further, she turned right round and slowly reached for another glass of champagne, throwing a diminutive smile their way. It was fun to see them squirm.
Within a few minutes, a regular flow of guests started to fill the hall, and Saskia was relieved when Neil suggested she go sit with Claire and the others her age range. Her company was accepted gratefully and with a hint of honour.
Falling quickly into the zone, Saskia was sharing interests and laughs (and no doubt, phone numbers); You'd wouldn't think they'd been friends for only one hour as there had initially been a bit of a fear factor when elected to minister the boss's daughter. She could have been a hard-nosed uppity cow, but instead was not filled with anything but a soft curiosity of the people she'd just met. And when she got up with Claire to visit the Ladies, she passed Neil without looking his way, (which made him smile) he wondered if he'd even get to consort with her much tonight. But he was happy to stand aside for now, and simply watch the reaction to his little showpiece.
end of **WONDERLAND** (part one)
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