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them. Her hands, by contrast, were small and pretty, and if she kept her left hand so constantly through Humphrey’s arm it was perhaps to keep her wedding ring in evidence. She beamed at me with such affection that I feltobscurely flattered, though I had never set eyes on her before that moment.
    ‘Congratulations,’ I said, although it felt odd and inappropriate for the young man I was then to offer congratulations to an elderly woman on her marriage to a much older man. The young man I was then was also more intent on tracking down Sarah, whose red head could be seen in a distant corner, and who, momentarily detached from her two friends, seemed to be talking animatedly to a man I vaguely remembered as my mother’s regular escort to the theatre.
    A hand posed on my hand brought me back to order and to Jenny who was smiling at me fondly.
    ‘I have so wanted to meet you, Alan. My dear Alice talks of you all the time. Has she told you about me?’
    ‘Yes indeed. Forgive me for mentioning this, but your accent is quite French. Mother told me you were Polish.’
    She laughed delightedly. ‘But my dear, I lived in Paris for over thirty years. I went there as a young girl. I think of myself as a Parisienne.’ This last remark stirred Humphrey into some kind of protest. ‘But now of course I am English, an English wife with an English husband and an English family.’ She laughed again.
    I decided that there was no irony in this remark, although I could not distinguish the family to which she alluded. In brief there was no family: I had myself, only half an hour earlier, been regretting the fact. Certainly there was Humphrey, who took on some kind of importance now as a latter-day paterfamilias; certainly there were Sybil and Marjorie, who occupied a distant part of the room and seemed to be radiating awkwardness and isolation. They had come up from the country for this affair; despite their reluctant acceptance of my mother they never missed one of her parties. It gave them deep satisfaction to note that professional caterers hadbeen hired to prepare the canapés and vol-au-vents. ‘I see you decided to have it catered, Alice,’ was usually their parting remark, thus leaving my mother with a reproachful vision of their former culinary munificence, or so they thought. I could not see that Sybil and Marjorie would be likely to extend the hand of friendship to the woman who had so effectively taken over their former charge. Of course there was Sarah, but Sarah did not seem to be part of anyone’s family. Sarah, at that moment, had summoned her two friends, who seemed to act as pilot fish, and was making for the table which had been set up as a bar.
    ‘Sarah,’ called Humphrey. ‘Come and say hello. We’ve seen nothing of you.’
    She turned her back to the table and surveyed them for a moment before deciding to come over. To myself she paid no attention at all. Then she strolled languorously to Humphrey’s side and linked her arm through his, so that he stood with a woman on each arm. Despite the fact that this seemed to enchant him—for even a man as old as Humphrey was susceptible to flattery—I could see that Sarah’s intention was to point up the stunning contrast between herself, taut as a whipcord in her minute black suit and her low-cut silk shirt, and her uncle’s elderly wife with her broken feet. In this she succeeded. Jenny detached her arm from that of her husband and moved nearer to Sarah. I registered the fact that Sarah was the family to which she now wished to lay claim. As if to reinforce this impression, Jenny put out a tentative hand and stroked Sarah’s cheek. I hope that she turned away before she saw the girl’s slight moue of distaste. Or was it a grimace? Whatever it was, we all decided not to have noticed. Sarah was to be allowed to behave badly on account of her youth, although she was not that young. I reckoned that she must have been twenty-three or -four, old enough to know better.