‘Are you all right?’
‘Perfect!’ I breathed gustily. ‘Just, perfect.’ I nestled into his shoulder. We swayed in time to the music, or at least he did; I followed. And I felt so much better, supported. And suddenly, so full of wisdom. I gazed up. He was a bit of a blur.
‘Sam, I know you’re probably only dancing with me to make Hope jealous, but I want you to know it’s fine by me. Really. I’m loving it.’
His expression changed in a flash from amused to irritated. ‘Don’t be silly, Poppy.’
‘She is very beautiful,’ I said dreamily, catching her in a swirl of white chiffon being twirled around the floor. By Chad? I couldn’t see. I hoped so. ‘And when they came, Hope and Chad, we thought, well, we thought they were so perfect. The perfect couple. The blueprint for the rest of us. But nothing’s perfect, is it, Sam?’ My, those shots had been strong. Even I wasn’t sure what was coming next. ‘Chip away at the surface and all sorts of cracks appear.’
‘Would you mind if we didn’t talk about Hope?’ Quite tersely, in my ear. I nodded sagely. Ah yes. Couldn’t bear it. But the thing is, once my finger’s hovered over the self-destruct button, I find it awfully hard to tear it away.
‘I’ve got a terrible feeling I’ve fallen for you, Sam,’ I said throatily into his shoulder. I gave a cracked laugh. ‘How inconvenient is that? When you’re still in love with Hope? Hope. Hope springs eternal. Hope springs –’ I dissolved into helpless giggles, for some reason finding this dreadfully funny.
He was steering me off the dance floor now. But I’d made a bit of a confession, would not be distracted. ‘Sam?’ I had to shout loudly above the noise. ‘Did you hear what I said? I said, I think I’ve –’
‘Don’t be ridiculous, Poppy,’ he said firmly, depositing me on a chair. My old chair. Hello, chair. ‘Now wait here while I get your father.’
‘While I get your father,’ I repeated sternly, wagging a strict Victorian finger. Then I snorted unattractively and had to wipe my nose. But I sat demurely enough, sniggering only occasionally, as people drifted by. They smiled down, amused.
‘Thanks for the tickets!’ I called to Mark as he passed by with a pretty blonde girl.
‘Nothing to do with me, Poppy,’ he grinned. ‘But I’m glad you’re here. Having a good time?’
‘Fantastic!’ I gave him a broad wink. Well, of course. He wouldn’t want to admit to sending another woman tickets in front of his girlfriend, would he? More people passed by on their way to the dance floor.
‘Good evening,’ I greeted one or two. No, I would not sit. It was rude. I got to my feet. Just. ‘And thank you so much for coming.’ An elderly matron blinked at me, astonished. ‘Yes, it is a lovely party, isn’t it? Not at all, my pleasure. Do come again.’ This, to Luke. ‘You too, Sue.’
‘Christ, love, what are you on!’ Dad was suddenly beside me, alarmed. My father doesn’t do alarmed. He’s not a big man, but he was managing to hasten me, bodily, to the door. We passed a waitress. ‘Hey, hang on, Dad,’ I swung about. ‘There’s this little blue glass, right, with this delicious –’ But she’d gone.
‘Schnapps? You drank that?’ he said aghast.
‘Three,’ I told him solemnly. ‘Wouldn’t mind another.’ I made a break for it, but Dad’s an ex-national hunt jockey, and his arms are strong. He was propelling me forcibly outside.
‘Now what I’m going to do,’ he was saying in the patient tones one normally reserves for the educationally subnormal, ‘is pop you in the lorry, OK? Then I’ll go back for the children, and then we’ll potter off home, all right?’
‘Righto,’ I said cheerfully, as he hustled me down the floodlit gravel drive. The night air hit me like a cosh, though, and suddenly I felt terribly, terribly light-headed. And a bit unwell. Was I going to be sick? I counted to twenty and somehow, having taken my shoes off to cross the paddock, found myself seated in the cab of a dark lorry in the middle of a field, shoes in my lap. Dad beetled off.
To stop myself being ill and the world going round, I sang. I sang, with deepest concentration, a verse from ‘Raindrops on Roses’. So many favourite things to remember, though. Whiskers. Kittens. Kettles … Bugger. ‘Edelweiss’, then. On I warbled. Beside me, a young couple who’d left the party early jumped into a Land Rover. They climbed into the back seat and started kissing. Ah well. I sang on. Everyone, it seemed, had found love tonight, except me. I sang on to the stars, just like Maria singing to the children, and somewhere during the third verse, my own children appeared. Just like the Von Trapps, but fewer, thank God.
‘Darlings!’ I greeted them exultantly, arms wide. Archie was fast asleep, wrapped in a blanket as Dad handed him to me through the driver’s door. Then my own door opened and Clemmie was in Sam’s arms, wide-eyed.
‘Why were you singing, Mummy? We heard you miles away.’
