Clouds among the Stars. Victoria Clayton

to Rupert. But perhaps this isn’t the right moment –’

      ‘I do love Woopert. Tho much! But he never taketh me theriouthly.’ Her eyes swum a bit more.

      ‘I’d probably better go – another time –’

      ‘Don’t be bashful, darling. Woopert’th over there, being nithe to evwybody.’ She pointed to the corner of the room. ‘Exthept me.’ She hiccuped sadly and turned away.

      A fair young man of epicene beauty who wore a dinner jacket and tiger-skin shorts, winked at me and blew me a kiss. An equally gynandrous figure with long red hair and a stubbly chin offered me the cigarette he or she was smoking. I did not like to refuse, though the butt was uninvitingly soggy. I was careful not to inhale.

      Peering between the heads of the crowd gathered around him, I had a chance to observe Rupert. He was dressed in a striped blazer with a bow tie and his black hair was slicked back from his forehead with glistening pomade. His face was covered with white makeup. His eyebrows were upside-down Vs, pencilled starkly in black, and his lips were cherry red. He was recounting a story that was drowned by explosions of laughter from his audience. His was an interesting face, expressive, mocking, almost wicked. I wondered which of us had changed most during the intervening years. It ought to have been me, since I had grown from a child to a young woman. Trying to get a better view of Rupert, the man next to me trod hard on my foot without noticing. As soon as I could I limped away to the other end of the room where it was less crowded.

      A pair of French windows revealed a garden of wavering beauty. I cupped my hands round my face and pressed my nose to the glass to see it better. Lanterns in jewel colours were strung from dark masses of trees. A helmeted statue, perhaps Hermes, stood on one leg in the centre of a long rectangular pond. As my eyes grew accustomed to the darkness I saw stone fish – dolphins, probably – on each corner, spewing water.