‘This is Charles Mancini,’ I said.

Charlie nodded enigmatically. With his Mexican bandit’s face, pink suede suit and dark grey shirt, he looked both sinister and glamorous. No girl could be ashamed of being seen with Charlie.

‘Why don’t we all have a drink?’ I said, ignoring a vicious kick on the ankles from Charlie.

Gussie looked up at Jeremy. ‘Why not?’ she said.

He nodded. ‘Charlie, get the waitress to bring some more chairs,’ I said.

‘What were you drinking?’ said Charlie sulkily.

‘Champagne,’ I said. ‘It’s a celebration.’

‘I’ve had quite enough to drink, I’m already getting giggly,’ said Gussie. ‘Can I have some orange squash?’

I told you she was wet.

‘But you’ll have champagne?’ Charlie said to Jeremy.

‘I much prefer whisky. Let me buy this round.’

Charlie shook his head and summoned the waitress.

‘You actually got engaged today?’ I said.

‘Well, yesterday,’ said Gussie, hauling a bra strap up a fat white shoulder.

‘Have you got a ring?’

‘Yes. Isn’t it lovely?’ She held out a short stubby hand that had never seen a manicure in its life. On the third finger glowed an antique ring — rubies and pearls surrounded a plait of hair.

Of course he would choose something as subtly pretty as that. All the guys I knew would have given me solitaires or sapphires as big as a gull’s egg.

‘It’s gorgeous,’ I said looking through my hair at Jeremy. ‘You are lucky, Gussie. Really beautiful men with exquisite taste into the bargain are at a premium these days.’

Charlie, busy ordering drinks, missed that remark. Jeremy blushed slightly.

‘Yes, he is beautiful, isn’t he,’ sighed Gussie. ‘I have to keep pinching myself to prove it’s not a dream that he should have chosen an old frump like me.’