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fruit punch? I don’t think so. Give yourself more credit, girl. Or alternatively, start the day with a couple of vodkas. Works for me.’
    I tried to see Thomas’s face, but he was turned away from me. Was he laughing?
    ‘Oh yes,’ I said sarcastically. ‘Instead of waking … each morning wondering how to fill the hours ahead, I can … pull a bottle from under the pillow and …’ I stopped. And what? What would I do if I could? If I had a choice, what would I choose? Frightening chasms yawned at my feet. This was why I stayed in my room.
    ‘Well, I don’t mean you should hitch-hike across India, for God’s sake. Start small. Here’s an idea. What do you know about buckets?’
    OK, no more alcohol for me. I obviously had zero tolerance and it was already affecting my brain. However, I knew the answer to this one.
    ‘Plastic things,’ I said proudly. ‘In many colours. Or metal. Shiny. They have holes. There’s a … song about it. You kick them when you die.’ And sat back, pleased with the completeness of my answer.
    ‘Excellent, you’re obviously a leading authority. What are you doing tomorrow morning?’
    ‘Nothing,’ I said, without hesitation.
    ‘Good. Meet me outside the post office at 10.30. No, better make it 11.00 – I’ll need a bit of a lie-in. You can help me buy buckets.’
    ‘ Look out, ’ said Thomas, suddenly. ‘ Incoming. ’
    I looked up. A very unhappy looking Uncle Richard was approaching.
    ‘Yes,’ I said to Russell, and then my uncle was upon us, his gentle face frowning.
    ‘Russell. I heard you were here.’
    Russell stood up, suddenly alarmingly sober. ‘Richard, good evening. Jenny and I have been catching up.’
    My uncle looked at me, then at the glass on the table and said in apocalyptic tones, ‘Jenny? Have you been … drinking?’
    I didn’t know whether to laugh, cry, hiccup, or panic. As usual, everything inside me clumped together for safety and nothing emerged.
    ‘Good heavens,’ said Russell, indignantly, ‘of course she hasn’t. Unless you count coffee, of course.’ He gestured to the cup and saucer.
    ‘Jenny, you know your aunt doesn’t like you to drink coffee. It can be very stimulating.’
    ‘Have a heart, Richard, it’s a party. Let her have a little fun.’
    I knew he was laughing at my uncle. I wondered if he was laughing at me, too.
    ‘Of course, I’m sure just one …’
    ‘Will not set her on the road to eternal damnation,’ finished Russell.
    I stood up and he steadied me while pretending to shake hands. ‘Nice to have met you again, Jenny.’
    I nodded, thankful for once that no one would be expecting me to say anything, but very aware of Uncle Richard radiating gentle disapproval. I smiled at Russell who winked at me and mouthed, ‘Buckets! Don’t forget.’ At least, that’s what I think it was.
    ‘Come along, Jenny. It’s half past ten and your aunt is feeling tired.’
    ‘Better make that six hundred words,’ Russell called after me as I meekly followed my uncle out of the room. Thomas walked alongside, rather closer than usual, occasionally (and quite unnecessarily) having a quiet snort.
    So that was my first party.
    Shortly afterwards, I got my first proposal of marriage.
    I woke really early the next morning, full of excitement. I had an appointment. I was meeting someone. I had a purpose.
    ‘ It’s only half past six, ’ said Thomas from the corner. ‘ It’s not light yet and you didn’t get to bed until nearly eleven last night. You’ll wear yourself out. ’
    ‘Yes, very funny.’
    ‘ Make yourself a cup of tea and get back into bed. ’
    So I did.
    Halfway down the mug I began to have doubts.
    ‘Do you think he’ll forget?’
    ‘ No. ’
    ‘He was pretty drunk.’
    ‘ Not when he was talking to you. ’
    ‘Do you think he’ll change his mind?’
    ‘ No, a man always needs buckets. ’
    ‘Suppose he can’t come?’
    ‘ Then he won’t be there at 11.00 and you’ll be disappointed