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kitchen.
    Automatically, Jane continued to arrange slices of quiche on a plate. It was some minutes later that she realized she was crying.
    Usually Jane enjoyed the dances in the lighthouse. The experience reminded her a little of Dee’s parties in the old house. It wasn’t that Dee’s media friends had gone in for fiddle and accordion music and they didn’t dance eightsome reels or the Dashing White Sergeant, but Jane had the same sense that she was managing the event. She liked watching people having a good time and knowing that her cooking and her organization had made it happen.
    Now she was determined that Angela shouldn’t know she was upset. This was a celebration and it wouldn’t do to spoil it. Besides, why should she allow an arrogant and manipulative woman any sense of victory? Jane couldn’t believe that Maurice would allow Angela to sack her. Jane made his life easy and Maurice was all for an easy life.
    She watched Perez lead his fiancée on to the floor for the first dance, felt a moment of envy for the intimacy, the matching grins when Fran stumbled over a step. I never had that. Not even with Dee.
    Maurice’s teenage daughter Poppy appeared in the break, just as the food was coming out. Throughout her troubles she’d always kept her appetite. She was dressed entirely in black and had intended to shock. The skirt was very short. Jane thought she didn’t have the legs to carry off the look and had made herself ridiculous, almost pitiable. She had a couple of young islanders with her – college students who’d got into Fair Isle for their reading week before the weather closed down. Jane thought Poppy had been entertaining them in her room; she’d got to know them on previous trips to the island. It was clear they’d all been drinking, but at the moment they were well behaved. The island kids wouldn’t cause a scene in front of their parents and grandparents and at the moment Poppy was taking her lead from them. They joined the queue for food. From behind the counter Jane watched the girl and felt sorry for her.
    The music started again and Maurice asked Jane for a dance. For a man who was rather unfit, who took very little exercise, Maurice danced well. He dressed up for these occasions, a parody of himself, in a bow tie and shiny black shoes. Jane had realized during her first season what a part traditional music and dancing played in island life and had determined to master the steps. She’d watched, taken notes and practised in her room. Now she could do them automatically. She no longer had to count the beats in her head.
    ‘Angela says you don’t want me back next year,’ she said. They were in the middle of a circle of clapping people. They held hands, arms crossed, elbows bent, and began spinning, their bodies leaning out with the speed of the movement. He didn’t have time to answer before they separated and skipped out of the circle, but with some satisfaction she saw a flush of anger. A moment later they came together again, linked arms, and promenaded around the room, following all the other couples. Ahead of them Mary and James Perez were light and easy on their feet so you could believe they’d keep going all night.
    ‘Nothing’s been decided,’ Maurice said. ‘She had no right to discuss it with you.’
    ‘I think I have every right to know what’s going on.’ Jane thought she sounded very reasonable. ‘I have my own plans to make.’
    ‘Leave it to me. I’ll sort it out.’
    The music stopped and the dancers clapped and laughed. Outside, the storm grew even more fierce.
    Poppy lost her temper at the end of the evening when many of the guests were leaving; by then Jane had been thinking they’d get through the party without a problem. The tantrum had been brewing for days. Jane thought Poppy was like an enormous two-year-old, chubby, demanding and inarticulate. She wouldn’t have been surprised to see the girl lying on the floor kicking and screaming. How could you