he came face to face with Gaia, who was waiting to take his coat.
'Mum could have made it,' said Gaia, in a clear, carrying voice, as she glared at him. 'But Gavin's dumped her, haven't you, Gav?'
Howard clapped Gavin on the shoulder, pretending he had not heard, and boomed, 'Great to see you, go get yourself a drink.'
Shirley's expression remained impassive, but the thrill of the moment did not subside quickly, and she was a little dazed and dreamy, greeting the next few guests. When Maureen tottered over in her awful dress to join the greeting party, Shirley took immense pleasure in telling her quietly: 'We've had a very awkward little scene. Very awkward. Gavin and Gaia's mother ... oh, dear ... if we'd known ...'
'What? What's happened?'
But Shirley shook her head, savouring the exquisite pleasure of Maureen's frustrated curiosity, and opened her arms wide as Miles, Samantha and Lexie entered the hall.
'Here he is! Parish Councillor Miles Mollison!'
Samantha watched Shirley hugging Miles as though from a great distance. She had moved so abruptly from happiness and anticipation to shock and disappointment that her thoughts had become white noise, against which she had to fight to take in the exterior world.
(Miles had said: 'That's great! You can come to Dad's party, you were only just saying - '
'Yes,' she had replied, 'I know. It is great, isn't it?'
But when he had seen her dressed in the jeans and band T-shirt she had been visualizing herself in for over a week, he had been perplexed.
'It's formal.'
'Miles, it's the church hall in Pagford.'
'I know, but the invitation - '
'I'm wearing this.')
'Hello, Sammy,' said Howard. 'Look at you. You needn't have dressed up.'
But his embrace was as lascivious as ever, and he patted her tightly jeaned backside.
Samantha gave Shirley a cold tight smile and walked past her towards the drinks. A nasty voice inside her head was asking: but what did you think was going to happen at the concert, anyway? What was the point? What were you after?
Nothing. A bit of fun.
The dream of strong young arms and laughter, which was to have had some kind of catharsis tonight; her own thin waist encircled again, and the sharp taste of the new, the unexplored; her fantasy had lost wings, it was plummeting back to earth ...
I only wanted to look.
'Looking good, Sammy.'
'Cheers, Pat.'
She had not met her sister-in-law for over a year.
I like you more than anyone else in this family, Pat.
Miles had caught up with her; he kissed his sister.
'How are you? How's Mel? Isn't she here?'
'No, she didn't want to come,' said Patricia. She was drinking champagne, but from her expression, it might have been vinegar. 'The invitation said Pat and guest are invited ... huge bloody row. One up to Mum.'
'Oh, Pat, come on,' said Miles, smiling.
'Oh, Pat, fucking come on what, Miles?'
A furious delight took hold of Samantha: a pretext to attack.
'That's a bloody rude way to invite your sister's partner and you know it, Miles. Your mother could do with some lessons in manners, if you ask me.'
He was fatter, surely, than he had been a year ago. She could see his neck bulging over the collar of his shirt. His breath went sour quickly. He had a little trick of bouncing on his toes that he had caught from his father. She experienced a surge of physical disgust and walked away to the end of the trestle table, where Andrew and Sukhvinder were busy filling and handing out glasses.
'Have you got any gin?' Samantha asked. 'Give me a big one.'
She barely recognized Andrew. He poured her a measure, trying not to look at her breasts, boundlessly exposed in the T-shirt, but it was like trying not to squint in direct sunlight.
'Do you know them?' Samantha asked, after downing half a glass of gin and tonic.
A blush had risen before Andrew could marshal his thoughts. To his horror, she gave a reckless cackle, and said, 'The band. I'm talking about the band.'
'Yeah, I - yeah, I've heard of them. I don't ... not my kind of thing.'
'Is that right?' she said, throwing back the rest of her drink. 'I'll have another one of those, please.'
She realized who he was: the mousy boy from the delicatessen. His uniform made him look older. Maybe a couple of weeks of lugging pallets up and down the cellar steps had built some muscle.
'Oh, look,' said Samantha, spotting a figure heading away from her into the growing crowd, 'there's Gavin. The second