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“It’s the reunion, really, that is the host here. You very kindly offered…”
    “…to host the occasion,” said Isabel. “So I think we’ll have separate plates.”
    The young man grinned. He was waiting for his final instruction. Isabel crossed the floor to the cupboard and took out half a dozen plates. “Here we are,” she said. “These can be vegetarian, and those can be for meat and fish.”
    She felt the young man’s eyes on her. Then, after glancing quickly at Eleanor, he began to busy himself with placing the canapés on the appropriate plate.
    “Good,” said Isabel briskly. “That’s settled that.” She looked at her watch. “Five minutes to go.”
    They were slow to arrive, even allowing for the passage of the statutory fifteen minutes. But then, almost all at once, taxis drew up at the front gate and disgorged their passengers. Eleanor and Margaret met them at the front door, showing them—rather officiously, thought Isabel—to the table where their name badge was waiting. Coats were taken by the young man from New Zealand, who said “Good evening?” to each guest as she arrived. Then they made their way into the large downstairs drawing room, where another member of the catering team stood with a tray of glasses of Cava.
    If there was any ice to be broken, it was thin and did not take long to break. The level of noise in the room rose steadily—the murmur of conversation being interrupted by occasional shrieks of laughter or surprise. As the party got under way, Isabel looked around the room. All the name badges had been collected, so everybody was either there or in the music room, which was accommodating the overflow. So Barbara Grant would have arrived, as would Claire Sutherland.
    She saw Claire Sutherland first. From where she was standing Isabel did not have a good view of her face, but she recognized her figure. Claire had been curvaceous—more so than any of the other girls—and she still was. If gravity was planning to strike, it had not done so yet, allowing her to carry off a clinging silk jersey dress to good advantage.
    Isabel crossed to join the small group in which Claire was standing. As she approached, Claire detached herself and turned to embrace Isabel, kissing her enthusiastically on each cheek. “So!” she said. “Here we all are! Twenty years!”
    “Quite a thought,” said Isabel. “It doesn’t seem like it, does it?”
    “Not at all,” said Claire. She peered at Isabel’s badge. “You’re married, I see. Is he here?”
    “Yes,” said Isabel. “He’ll appear.”
    Claire smiled. “I seem to recall that you married earlier on. Somebody told me…”
    “Yes,” said Isabel. “I had a pretty disastrous first marriage. I survived, though.”
    “As we all do,” said Claire. She pointed to her own badge. “They’ve misspelled my name, you know. I have an
i
and an
e.
People keep leaving it out.”
    “I remember,” said Isabel. “It’s annoying when people misspell your name.”
    “It certainly is,” said Claire. “But we shouldn’t worry about things like that, I suppose.”
    “No,” said Isabel.
    Isabel looked at Claire’s badge. “And you’re no longer Sutherland, I see.”
    “I use the name Ross,” said Claire. “Michael and I have been married for fifteen years now. We have three children—two boys and a girl.”
    Isabel suppressed a smile. Claire had settled down; of course she would.
    “I’ve been very lucky,” said Claire. “I found the right man.”
    After a long and active search
, thought Isabel; but reproached herself silently and immediately. “I’m so pleased for you,” she said. And that was quite true; she was.
    Claire leaned forwards. “I must confess that I was a bit…how shall I put it? I was a bit
boy mad
in those days.”
    “Oh, I don’t know,” said Isabel. “We all were—in our way.”
    “Oh but I was a bit of an
enthusiast
. I suspect that I was the first amongst us to have a boyfriend.”
    Isabel