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was a flicker of surprise in his eyes. He certainly took his time to look her over. Then, with a smile that wasn’t entirely friendly, he said, ‘I can assure you you don’t. How do you do?’
    Then he turned to Constance.
    ‘Sorry I took so long. This deal’s reached a really delicate stage. If we pull it off though, Charles’ll make enough bread to pay for Gay’s wedding.’
    Constance didn’t look in the least mollified. But at that moment a maid announced dinner was ready.
    Until then Bella had drunk enough whisky to sail through any situation, but as they went into the dining-room she was overwhelmed with a fear so violent that she had to clutch on to the table to stop herself fainting.
    What was that terrible sickly smell? Then she realized it was the lilies – a huge clump was massed on a Grecian pillar at the far end of the room and another great bowl filled the centre of the table.
    Bella stared at them horrified, remembering the wreaths of lilies that had filled the house before her mother’s funeral, just after Steve had walked out on her. And how closely, at the time, the white waxy petals had resembled the translucence of her mother’s skin as she lay dead upstairs. She felt the sweat rising on her forehead. She was trembling all over.
    Looking up, she saw Lazlo watching her. Immediately on the defensive she glared back, then cursed herself as he looked away. It would have been so much more politic to smile.
    They sat down at a table that could easily have accommodated a couple of dozen people. Bella was between Charles and Teddy. Rupert was hidden from her by the centrepiece of lilies. A maid began handing round a great bucket of caviar.
    Constance and Gay discussed the wedding.
    ‘It’s amazing how people cough up,’ said Gay. ‘The most unlikely relations have sent vast cheques.’
    ‘When I was married,’ said Constance, taking a far bigger helping than anyone else, ‘all the West Wing was cordoned off to accommodate the presents. I’d forgotten how much there is to do. I’m quite exhausted. I’ve been tied up with the bishop all afternoon.’
    ‘How very uncomfortable for you both,’ said Lazlo gravely.
    Constance ignored this. ‘The bishop was most impressed by our work for the blind,’ she went on. ‘Particularly with the number of new guide dogs we’ve provided.’
    Lazlo held up his wine so that it gleamed like a pool of gold. ‘You should start a society of Guide People for Blind Dogs,’ he said.
    ‘Do you know Baby Ifield?’ Charles shouted to Bella down six feet of polished mahogany.
    She shook her head.
    ‘Should have seen her in her heyday. My word she was a smasher. Used to go back-stage and see her. Often took her to the Four Hundred.’
    Constance’s lips tightened.
    ‘I simply can’t bear to discuss the mess this government is making,’ she said, and proceeded to do so for half an hour.
    Listening to her, Bella found herself becoming more and more critical, and as her critical spirit waxed, her tact and caution waned.
    Constance switched to the subject of Northern Ireland. ‘If only they’d bring back hanging.’
    ‘Why should they?’ said Bella, her trained actress’s voice carrying down the table.
    Constance looked at her as though one of the potatoes had spoken.
    ‘It’d soon stop them planting bombs so casually,’ said Constance.
    ‘No way,’ said Bella. ‘There’s nothing the Irish like better than feeling martyred. Hanging would only make them step up the campaign.’
    Constance was revving up for a really crushing reply, when Lazlo said,
    ‘How’s Jonathan?’
    ‘A case in point,’ said Constance sourly. ‘Young people today are allowed far too much freedom. His housemaster wrote to me only this morning saying Jonathan painted “Death to Apartheid” in red all over the chapel wall.’
    Lazlo and Charles grinned. Rupert started to laugh.
    ‘But that’s great,’ said Bella, whose glass had been filled for the fourth time. ‘He’s