There was something decidedly eighteenth-century about this remark, and since I’d just seen him looking impossibly handsome downstairs in something resembling a doublet and hose, it didn’t help my equilibrium. Why couldn’t she have kept to the Regency rhetoric but said he was a cad? A bounder? I felt something I’d been determinedly stiffening inside collapse a bit.

‘So, were you here when he got married?’ I persisted nosily. ‘To Hope?’

‘I was.’ This, more shortly.

‘And – and so it must be odd for him, don’t you think? Having her back here, with her new husband?’ I blushed at my inquisitiveness.

She looked at me appraisingly. ‘I don’t know how he does it. But he’s that fond of Chad, who’s a nice boy, and that upset for him too. That’s why they’re here, I’m sure.’

This didn’t make much sense to me, but as I was trying to figure it out and formulate another question, which obviously couldn’t quite take the form of ‘And is he still in love with her?’ Janice got to her feet. She was leading me to the door too. Quite forcefully, really; taking me by the arm and telling me to go off and have a good time and she’d sort out the kiddies. She thought a game of I-spy and then a story? And perhaps some hot milk? Clemmie and Archie, looking as if it was Christmas and not at all sorry to see the back of their mother, who would have put the lights out more instantly, agreed, bouncing in their beds, shiny-eyed.

Down the stairs I went in my old black, thoughtful; then along the passage, following the noise to the front of the house. The front hall, of course, was the entrance we should have arrived at, and as I turned the corner under an arch, it was everything I’d imagined.

A grand sweeping staircase curled majestically down to a black and white limestone hall, two marble pillars supported a gallery at one end, and haughty-looking ancestors frowned darkly from the walls. It was heaving with people, so much so that some of them were halfway up the stairs. All seemed to be having a thoroughly good time, talking at the top of their voices, shrieking to one another as they knocked back the champagne. Many I knew, but so deceptively attractive were they looking, in silks, velvets and sparkling jewels, the men dapper in black tie, that now and again I had to take a second look just to confirm. I took it all in for a moment, ridiculously pleased to be here. Then I cast around for Dad. We were obviously late and there seemed to be a general move towards the dining room for supper. I wasn’t entirely sure I wanted to drift in there alone. My eyes darted about. Instead of my father, though, I found Jennie, who, shimmering in her grey silk, dark curls professionally swept back in soft waves from her face, was hastening towards me from the foot of the stairs. As she muscled through the scrum, her eyes were wide in consternation.

‘I thought you weren’t coming!’

‘No, I wasn’t, but then Dad had a spare ticket and I thought: oh, what the heck. You’ll never believe it, Jennie, the children are upstairs with the housekeeper. Dad swung it, naturally. How Mortimer is that!’

Ordinarily this would amuse her hugely, but it didn’t for some reason. Her eyes flitted nervously about. ‘There’s Angie. Come on, let’s go and say hi.’

Rather purposefully and with quite a grip on my arm, she turned me about and made to lead me across the crowded room. Indeed, so forcefully and with so much steel, something made me turn and glance over my shoulder: my left one.

Luke was in the stairwell, with his back to me. One hand above his head was hanging on to the banisters, the other was on his hip. He was leaning in, talking confidentially to someone. I craned my neck. To Saintly Sue. I shook Jennie off. Watched. Body language is fascinating and this was compelling. The way he was arched over her, whispering in her ear: the way she threw back her head and laughed, cheeks flushed. She was in a midnight-blue off-the-shoulder dress, showing a great deal of bosom and looking far from saintly. Suddenly, over his shoulder, she saw me. She looked surprised, but then a triumphant look flitted across her face. A moment later Luke turned to follow her eyes. He startled visibly. I walked across.

‘Hi, Luke. Hello, Sue.’

‘Oh, um, hi, Poppy.’ Luke nervously smoothed back his mop of blond hair and straightened up. ‘Didn’t expect to see you here.’

‘Oh, really? Why not?’

‘Well, I – didn’t think it was …’

‘Oh, it’s very much my thing. Thank you for the flowers, by the way. Sorry I couldn’t make supper at your place the other night. I hope you found someone to take my place? Eat all those delicious prawns?’

Sue looked taken aback. Ah, spot on. How interesting. And I’m not normally a bitch, but it felt surprisingly good. Then she looked thunderous. Just so you know, Sue, I thought, bestowing a sweet smile on her. Then you can make your own mind up, can’t you? But best to be informed, hm? I turned to Luke, who looked like a small boy caught with his hand in the sweetie tin – either that or with his trousers down. Oddly, though, as I regarded him gazing sheepishly at the floor, I realized I wasn’t about to follow through with another waspish remark. Wasn’t going to tear him off a strip. Principally because – and this was quite comforting – I wasn’t inordinately distressed. In fact, I decided, there was something about his chutzpah I rather admired. Perhaps because I wasn’t going to have to be too closely acquainted with it? Could view it from a distance? It wasn’t going to be my problem.

I let him sweat a moment, then gave a wry smile. ‘Bon chance, Luke,’ I said quietly, realizing I meant it. His eyes came up immediately to meet mine: we communed silently a moment.

He grinned. ‘Yeah, you too, Poppy.’

I turned and walked away. My heart was pounding a bit, but I wasn’t too out of sorts. Although I wouldn’t mind finding someone to talk to pretty quickly. Jennie seemed to have disappeared, but – oh good, Peggy was standing by the fireplace in her black sequins. She was ostensibly talking to Sylvia, but actually watching this little scene unfold.

‘Sylvia was just telling me,’ she told me softly as I approached, ‘that the piano teacher is perhaps not all he appears.’

‘He said he’d teach my granddaughter, Araminta,’ Sylvia said heatedly. ‘It was my birthday present to her, and of course I didn’t think to pin him down on a price. Well, my dear, I’ve just received a bill for a hundred and fifty pounds for three lessons! Can you believe it!’

‘Yes, I can, actually,’ I murmured.

‘But fifty pounds a lesson! Who does he think he is, Elton John?’

‘Different sexual inclination,’ observed Peggy as Jennie approached, flustered. ‘And nowhere near as talented.’

‘Sorry, Poppy. Got that wrong,’ Jennie muttered.

‘Not to worry,’ I soothed. ‘Just a bit too much grey for my liking.’

‘Grey?’ Sylvia peered over her spectacles. ‘No, he doesn’t look grey. But he’s clearly a bit of a spiv. You stay away from that one, Poppy. We don’t want you getting it disastrously wrong again, do we?’

I was left rather speechless at this. Was I so much public property? My affairs, my life, discussed so minutely, even at the Old Rectory? Over breakfast and the Frank Cooper’s? Suddenly London and all its anonymity appealed. Clapham, perhaps, where I’d spent many happy years. And surely the schools weren’t all a hotbed of underage sex with crack cocaine on every street corner? As I sank into my champagne I found Dad at my elbow.

‘All right, love? Children settled?’

‘Yes, thanks, Dad.’

‘Glad you came, then?’ He puffed out his chest, pleased with himself. ‘And wasn’t our host big about it? Nice man, just had a long chat,’ he turned to nod in Sam’s direction.

The hall was thinning out now as people filed into dinner and I saw him over by a tall window framed by ancient tapestry drapes, talking to Hope. In much the same way as Luke had been talking to Saintly Sue. Intently; leaning over her, but not flirtatiously, protectively. She was looking through her lashes at the floor, beautiful in a long white Grecian dress. She was blushing a bit. He pressed his case gently. The body language of men in love. Which I’d now seen in stereo.

The wave of jealousy that surged through me rocked me. All at once I knew why I’d been so desperate to come here, what clambering into a filthy lorry with wet hair and odd-coloured pop socks under my old dress had been about. Seeing Luke with Sue had made me feel irritated. Seeing Sam with Hope made me feel desolate. And very, very alone. I’d kept Sam Hetherington at bay in my mind; kept him in a little box which I opened only occasionally, when I knew I was in a strong frame of mind. I’d protected myself from falling in love with him. Now he was bursting out like a jack-in-a-box, making himself even more lovable as he exposed his vulnerability, laid bare his soul across the room. Hope looked away as he spoke. I saw her swallow, her white neck lovely. Over by the door into the dining room, I saw Chad, watching the scene. His eyes were haunted, terrible. My breath seemed laboured, but I turned to my father.

‘Really glad, Dad.’

‘What, love?’

He’d forgotten his original question, so long had I been in answering.

‘I’m really glad I came. It’s about time I got a few things sorted out in my head.’