‘When you’ve both finished discussing me like a prize bull. .’ said Jeremy, but he said it gently and, taking a loose strand of Gussie’s hair, smoothed it behind her ear.

The drinks arrived.

‘Gosh, thanks awfully. It’s terribly kind of you,’ said Gussie, beaming at Charlie. I remembered of old how ridiculously grateful she’d always been about the smallest things.

‘And that’s a beautiful suit,’ she added wistfully. ‘Jeremy would look divine in clothes like that, but he’s such an old square.’

I waited for Charlie to wince, but he didn’t and was soon telling her all about the shop. That was another thing about her, she always managed to make people talk about themselves, and gave the impression she was really interested.

I gave Jeremy a long speculative look. He dropped his eyes first and took a gulp of whisky.

‘That’s better. I’ve never been wild about champagne.’

‘I only like it for elevenses,’ I said. ‘When are you getting married?’

‘November, we thought.’

‘Not before! But that’s light years away! Why on earth wait so long?’

‘I’ve got a large overdraft already, and I don’t relish the idea of living off Gussie.’

Gussie, I remembered, had a bit of money of her own.

‘What do you do?’

‘I’m in publishing, as an editor. I write a bit myself as well.’

‘What sort of things?’

‘Oh, poetry, a bit of criticism, the odd review, nothing likely to make any money.’

He looked like a poet with those dreamy blue eyes and long blond hair, yet it wasn’t a weak face; there was a strength about the mouth and chin. I got out a cigarette; he lit it for me. I held his hand to steady the flame, looking up at him from under my lashes. Surely he could feel the electricity between us? He put away his lighter.

‘Why are you called Octavia?’

‘I was born on October the 25th. My mother’d gone off my father by then and was mad about someone else, and she couldn’t have been less amused by my arrival, or be bothered to think of a name for me. So she called me after the month. It’s a damn silly name to be saddled with.’