my underarm. I stood slowly, like a toddler who’d just learnt to walk, and tried my fake laugh again but it wouldn’t come. Instead, the purple lights of the marquee went blurry.
‘Right,’ he said, ‘let’s go home.’
‘I didn’t mean to fall, I’m sorry,’ I said, as he pulled me towards the entrance, pushing through people. ‘What about my bag?’ I added, with a thick voice.
‘You sit here,’ he instructed sternly, as we reached a line of black cabs. ‘I’ll collect everything.’ He opened the door for me to climb in and then leant through the front window to speak to the driver, all polite again.
‘I’m terribly sorry but could you hang about while I get our coats?’ The driver nodded and Rory strode back towards the marquee. As I unbuckled my shoes, tears slid down my cheeks, making dark spots on the velvet of my dress. One dark spot, two dark spots, three dark spots; I counted them until they merged into one while the driver eyed me nervously in his mirror. Probably thought I was a vomit risk.
Rory came back minutes later with my coat and bags. He climbed in, gave the driver my address and sat back against the seat.
Neither of us said anything as the lights of Battersea roundabout slid past the windows and my tears stopped, eclipsed by relief at having left that marquee. Marigold and Clive were all right but the rest of them could jump in the Thames. And Octavia was a witch in lipstick. If you pulled a strand of her blonde hair, I wondered whether it would slide off to reveal a bald scalp underneath. The thought made me smile and I turned from my window to glance at Rory.
‘What on earth is funny about any of this?’ he snapped.
I sighed and fluttered my lips. ‘The whole evening? I’m sorry, I know it meant a lot to you, but…’ I sighed. ‘Those people!’
‘Those people are my colleagues,’ he said, ‘and friends. And you made a scene.’
Ah. ‘A scene’. A scene was one of Patricia’s biggest phobias too. ‘Mustn’t make a scene, darling,’ she’d told me often when I was younger, out shopping when I wanted to count the coins in her purse or whenever I’d count the street lamps out loud.
‘I didn’t mean to fall over.’
‘It wasn’t just that,’ he said, loosening the knot of his black tie while glaring at me, his eyes narrow with anger. ‘It was what you said to Octavia, and that absurd dress. And I don’t think the wine helped much either.’
For a moment, I was so winded I couldn’t answer, stunned by the power of somebody I liked so much, who was normally so charming and sunny, to reveal another, cruel side of themselves. But emboldened by the wine, I fought back. ‘Rory Dundee, don’t be such a pompous wanker!’
The taxi driver’s eyes peered nervously through his rear-view mirror again, but I carried on.
‘I’m sorry that I wore the wrong colour, but nobody died because I wore red, did they? And do you know how nervous I was before that party? Do you know how loathsome Octavia is? Every time I see her she comes up with something poisonous. And I’m sorry about the fucking shoes but I practised wearing them for half an hour last night, up and down the kitchen, like some sort of amateur supermodel, although I was wearing tracksuit bottoms. And I hate dancing. I was never any good at it. But I only did it because you wanted to and then look what happened. All I wanted,’ I said, almost hoarse by this point, ‘was to make you proud.’
Speech delivered, I sat back against the seat and felt a renewed wave of tears spring. But Rory just laughed.
‘What are you laughing at?’ I said, sniffing.
‘Did you actually practise in those bloody things?’
‘Yes! For ages. Mia made me.’
‘It didn’t work.’
‘I know!’
‘You might as well have worn your work shoes.’
‘I know!’
I turned my head from the window to look at him and we both smiled.
‘I’m sorry,’ I said again, as I shuffled along the seat towards him.
‘That’s all right,’ he said, putting his arm around me. ‘An easy mistake to make.’
I looked up at him. ‘What was?’
‘The dress.’
‘Oh. Right,’ I said, resting my cheek back against his jacket. ‘But I meant for everything.’
‘I know,’ he said, kissing the top of my head. ‘Tonight wasn’t one of our better outings but do you know what?’
‘No,’ I mumbled into his shoulder, noticing that Rory hadn’t