Read The Men in her Life for Free Online

media division, her invitation had been issued with the request that she come along early and help with the preparations. Handing round nibbles is such a good way of meeting people, Louis’s wife had told her, dropping a very heavy silver tray into her arms and pointing her towards the throng. It sounded good to Holly, until she realized that nobody who goes to election parties in large houses in Hampstead, even if they have the most impeccable left-wing credentials, expects to engage in conversation with the girl who’s offering the chicken satay. By 1992 she had become an assistant agent selling film and television rights in the books the agency represented. At the election party Holly had been free to mingle, but she had found it so difficult to engage with any of the tight little groups of People that she had been almost tempted to grab a tray of tapenade crostini to make it look as if she had a function. It had been a dismal evening, with everyone leaving stunned by the revelation that it wasn’t time to change after all.
    Now a director of the agency, Holly knew how to work a room with confidence. But although she had become adept at handling small talk with the movers and shakers in the media, she had not forgotten the women who had stared over her shoulder when she had nervously tried to join in their conversation, and the men who had waved away her platter of canapés, dismissing her like a servant, who now shook her hand warmly and loudly expressed their delight in meeting her at last.
    As Holly took a scallop wrapped in bacon from a passing tray, Piers sidled up beside her.
    ‘Why don’t we slip away somewhere more comfortable?’ he whispered, an inquisitive finger trying to ascertain whether she really wasn’t wearing knickers.
    ‘No, I’ve only just got here and, anyway, I want to see the results coming in,’ she said with her mouth full and shifted her bottom away from his furtive grope.
    ‘They’re all safe Labour for the first couple of hours. If we slipped away now, we could be back in time for Edgbaston.’
    ‘Edgbaston?’
    ‘It’s the first key marginal.’
    ‘You’re such a sweet-talking guy,’ she hissed and wandered away in search of Robert, who was talking to a very handsome Irish actor who had recently appeared in a film one of her clients had written.
    ‘Ruffled again,’ Robert said, looking at her wild hair and leaning forward to give her a kiss, ‘piss off, eh, darling, I rather fancy my chances,’ he whispered before straightening up.
    The swing in Sunderland South was eleven per cent. It was real. There was going to be a change of government. There was going to be a landslide. Even the Tory ex-cabinet minister on the television looked despondent as he insisted they reserve judgement until some more results were in.
    Champagne corks started popping all over the room-For the first time in her life, Holly felt as if she were participating in a moment of history. In the future, people would ask each other what they were doing the night the Labour government swept to power and she would remember this room, these people, the faint smell of red roses and cigarette smoke, this moment. Under the cover of all the celebratory kissing and hugging, Holly found herself in Piers’s arms.
    ‘Why are you crying?’ he asked, stepping back quickly, as if there were a danger of contracting emotion.
    ‘It’s the first time I’ve voted for the winning party,’ Holly told him, brushing away the tears that had surprised her as much as him. ‘I think it’s the first time I’ve had a sense of democracy being something to do with me...’ she tried to explain.
    ‘Do you mind if I use that?’ Piers took out his notebook.
    ‘Are you writing this party up?’ She couldn’t believe he wanted to lift something she had struggled to articulate and use it in an article.
    ‘Well, the editor did ask me to do a kind of how-was-it-for-you column...’
    ‘And how is it for you?’ Holly demanded to