asked what his golf handicap was and off he went.
Every now and then, I stole a glance at Rory, sitting on my other side. He was in entertaining mode, charming Marigold or Lady Belmarsh with an anecdote, asking them about their children, about their next holiday, about where they were spending Christmas. Nobody else would have known he was embarrassed, but I knew because he didn’t touch me once throughout dinner. I was momentarily distracted by the image of Zach and Ruby, heads bent together in a pub, but shook the thought away as an auctioneer leapt on stage and began selling off Verbier chalet holidays and safaris in Kenya. Clive bid for the chance to have Stripey painted by an ‘eminent pet portraitist’ and eventually won it for £12,250. I wondered if all the dignitaries gathered in this marquee had more money than brain cells.
When the auction had finished, Octavia leant towards me, a wide smile stretching her lips. If a snake slithered towards you in the wild, its face would look much the same.
‘I gather you ambushed Rory about our little discussion in Norfolk,’ she said.
I felt so many emotions at this that I wasn’t sure which one should come first. Anger at Rory for telling Octavia this? Betrayal that he hadn’t then told me he’d spoken to her? Embarrassment? Astonishment that Octavia would raise it again? But before I had a chance to reply, she’d carried on.
‘Do forgive me for upsetting you. Nothing would thrill me more than you and he getting married.’ As a performance, this was even less convincing than one of Eugene’s, but I didn’t have time to dwell on that because Marigold misheard her.
‘Sweet! You pair of lovebirds. I didn’t know you were engaged!’ she said, looking from me to Rory and clapping her hands together.
‘Is someone getting married?’ piped up Lord Belmarsh.
‘Nobody’s getting married,’ I replied, rallying myself and smiling back at Octavia. ‘He’s just very good in bed.’
It slipped out. I couldn’t help it. I was that fatal combination of fairly pissed and fairly cross.
The table fell silent and Lord Belmarsh’s face turned so puce I thought he might be having a heart attack.
Under the table, Rory’s hand gripped my thigh. ‘Florence, darling, let’s try a glass of water.’ He reached for a bottle and topped up my glass.
‘Lucky Rory,’ said Clive, winking at me.
‘Clive!’ reprimanded Marigold.
‘Perfect timing,’ muttered Rory, as a band started up on the stage. He stood and held a hand out for me. ‘I think we should dance.’
I’m scared of dancing. At teenage parties, I used to watch the girls who could sway in time to Britney Spears with envy. There seemed to be a direct correlation between those who knew the steps to ‘Oops!… I Did It Again’ and those who had boyfriends. I didn’t know the steps and never had a boyfriend. So, over the years, on the rare occasions I needed to dance, at a wedding or a birthday party, I’d developed tactics to avoid the dance floor. I needed another drink or I needed the loo. But here was Rory’s outstretched hand, no avoiding it.
Without saying anything, he led me to the chequered floor as the band played a Sinatra and, to the backdrop of saxophones and a man at the microphone crooning ‘That’s Life’, Rory spun me out and back into him again. I managed this and rolled back into his arms without skittering to the floor.
‘I’ve been up and down and over and out and I know one thing…’ crooned the singer, eyebrows waggling above the microphone.
Rory lifted his arm and I twirled underneath it, catching a glimpse of his thunderous face. I tried not to care. I just had to get through the rest of the party without anything else going wrong.
‘Each time I find myself flat on my face, I pick myself up and get back in the race…’ belted the singer, as Rory unravelled me from his chest again like a yoyo.
I felt it happening milliseconds before it actually did, as if the very moment that my right heel started sliding sent an alarm to the rest of my body to brace itself. My foot slipped from under me and then my knee, my hand and the rest of me came crashing to the floor like a chess piece knocked to its side.
Ah. Turns out something else could go wrong.
People around me stopped dancing and looked down and then Rory was crouched beside me, his hand digging into