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herself turn into a better version of herself. Her vision seemed crisper, her words wittier. Activities that had felt awkward in finishing school – dancing, knowing the correct cutlery to use at an English table, offering a compliment to a man – all flowed out of her more easily. With a little champagne inside her, Joy felt relaxed and at ease, as if she had somehow arrived in her body for the first time. The titled boys, known as ‘Debs Delights’ were positively crawling after Joy that year in London. She had money and beauty and wit and she found the British were more discerning than American boys her age. She could have taken her pick. Instead, she returned to New York and, while her parents were wintering on the West Coast, found herself alone at Norah and Victor Truman’s party.
    She had not been expecting much of the Trumans’ staid, Plaza-suite party. Norah’s blunt matchmaking attempts were embarrassingly obvious and invariably off the mark, her tongue constantly acerbic, but only occasionally witty.
    â€˜This is Frank Fitzpatrick,’ Norah said, adding in a stage whisper, ‘He’s Irish and a little old for you, but he’s also terribly rich... and clever, I believe.’
    Joy thought she had never seen such a magnificent man. He had thick black hair that was slightly longer than it should have been, barely tamed into a businessman’s parting. He had broad shoulders and his jaw was already darkening with tomorrow’s shadow. The man’s eyes were so blue and piercing that she found them almost impossible to look into.
    â€˜Why do you look so sad, when your name is Joy?’ His eyes held hers.
    Although her knees were shaking, Joy took a deep drag on her cigarette and deliberately stared back before answering, ‘How did an Irishman get into this party... and in such a cheap suit?’
    â€˜Well, perhaps the Trumans just took pity on poor Paddy and embraced me so that I wouldn’t have to spend New Year’s Eve selling oranges on the streets of New York.’
    â€˜You don’t look like a man that would inspire pity – despite the atrocious tailoring.’
    â€˜I’ll have you know this suit was very expensive.’
    â€˜Did no one tell you? Money can’t buy taste.’
    â€˜I thought in America money could buy you everything?’
    Joy deliberately paused before answering and arched a perfectly shaped eyebrow. ‘Not quite everything ...’
    â€˜I see,’ he said, trying not to laugh. ‘In which case, aren’t you going to ask me how rich I am?’
    â€˜I’m not remotely interested in money,’ she replied, taking a drag on her cigarette. ‘It comes from having too much of it, my father says.’
    â€˜I thought Americans believed you could never be too rich.’
    â€˜Oh, certainly you can! Overt wealth can be insufferably common if it’s not used with taste.’
    â€˜And are your family rich?’
    â€˜Why? Are you after my money?’
    â€˜Absolutely.’
    â€˜Well, my mother’s string of day-pearls are certainly worth more than the average man earns in a year. However, you are not an average man. You must be very rich indeed, otherwise Norah would certainly never have introduced you to me and you certainly wouldn’t be making comments like that .’
    He laughed, and Joy felt as if she was suddenly filled with sunshine.
    â€˜You certainly know your way around these people.’
    She smiled. Not just her ordinary smile but the dazzling, from the inside out smile. ‘These people? Goodness, I’ve never heard us called that before.’
    â€˜Why, what do us ordinary folk call the upper classes in America?’
    â€˜ The people, Mr... what was your name again?’
    He paused and looked at her quizzically. ‘You’ve got a very short memory for such a smart girl.’
    Joy found she wanted to reach over and touch his arm, and