As so often happens at events like this, there were two outstanding dancers. The woman was a brunette in a red dress. She swirled about, showing an extreme length of very good leg. The man was built and moved like a gymnast and every step they made was in perfect synch. Most of the other dancers stopped to watch, and some of the women looked daggers at their men who were showing excessive interest in the legs.

The barmen and waiters were hard at it and a lot of the calories on the food table had been transferred to the guests. I took my second drink and Thomas, the man who'd quizzed me on my arrival, appeared at my shoulder.

'I told you not to drink.'

'You told me not to get drunk. I won't. You also said to circulate and look natural. That's what I'm doing.'

He smelled strongly of alcohol himself and something stronger than wine. 'Keep your eyes open. Mr Clement's going to make a speech soon. There could be demonstrators.'

'What, getting past you? Never.'

'You're pissing me off, Hardy, but for your information they came up from the water one time. Worked their way up from one of the other houses.'

'What was the occasion in aid of? Aboriginal land rights?'

I was sorry as soon as I said it. Hank needed this gig not to be a fuck-up and I wasn't helping. I turned towards

Thomas to say something conciliatory, but he'd gone. Failing an invasion from the water, it looked like being a quiet night. Fine by me.

There was a stirring among the guests that signalled a significant moment and Jonas Clement appeared almost magically on the bandstand as the musicians let out a quiet riff and fell silent. Clement looked to be in his late forties; he was tall and well built with a full head of dark hair greying at the sides. He had a tan and white teeth and he wore his evening clothes as if they were something to relax in. The woman standing beside him was tall and blonde and everything else she should be. She stayed slightly behind Clement, but he reached back and squeezed her hand before stepping up to the mike.