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said Sandra, ‘but I never dreamt you’d be here.’
    â€˜No, well …’ The Sillitoes drifted past. They smiled at Ted. He changed his tune rapidly. ‘Could I have a sliver of salmon, please, waitress?’ The Sillitoes had passed out of earshot. ‘I didn’t know either, Sandra.’
    â€˜You’re ashamed of me,’ said Sandra flatly. ‘You don’t want anyone to see you talking to me. And it’s sea trout, anyroad.’
    They began to move along the buffet table. Sandra put dollops of the various salads on Ted’s plate as they talked.
    â€˜Rubbish,’ said Ted. ‘It’s rubbish, is that, Sandra. I don’t want anyone to see you talking to me .’
    â€˜You what?’
    â€˜In case you get sacked and lose your double overtime.’ Liz was approaching. ‘I’ll have a bit of the salad niçoise, as we in the catering industry call it.’
    Sandra put a sizeable dollop of salad on Ted’s plate. A piece of anchovy slid onto the carpet unnoticed.
    â€˜So!’ she said, when Liz had gone. ‘A sensational development.’
    â€˜Sensational!’ said Ted with relish, forgetting that he was supposed not to be pleased.
    â€˜And you’re pleased.’
    â€˜I am pleased. I admit it. But only because he’s not right for her, not because I … Rita and I are over, Sandra.’
    â€˜I know.’
    â€˜Honestly, love! We are! Over. Finito. You what?’
    â€˜I know. I’ve seen how you talk to that tarty piece.’
    â€˜Sandra! She is not a tarty piece.’ Ted realised his mistake. ‘And I’ve no idea who you’re talking about.’
    â€˜So!’ A scoop of potato salad. ‘You’re smitten!’ A scoop of Waldorf Salad. A couple passed close by. ‘Bean salad, sir?’ said Sandra, playing Ted’s game scornfully.
    â€˜Thank you, Sandra.’
    The couple threw hostile glances at Ted. He recognised Rita’ssneezing uncle and his wife. Her hat matched his nose. They moved on without speaking. It was a deliberate snub, for what Ted had done to Rita.
    â€˜I am not, Sandra,’ he said. ‘I am not smitten. But I like to get my facts right. And the lady to whom I assume you refer, with whom I had a brief sophisticated exchange of views on Beaujolais Nouveau, happens not to be a tarty piece. All right?’
    â€˜â€œBeaujolais Nouveau”! The only Nouveau you’ve ever drunk is Theakston’s Nouveau. She’s a tarty piece and you’re besotted.’ Ted began to raise his voice, forgetting that he was supposed to be having a casual conversation with a waitress who happened to be a colleague.
    â€˜She’s a classy, elegant, attractive woman and I am not besotted.’
    For a moment they glared at each other, eyeball to eyeball. Ted, expecting a deadly insult, was surprised to hear Sandra say, ‘Mayonnaise, sir?’ He was even more surprised to see the huge scoopful of mayonnaise that she plonked onto his absurdly heaped plate. It dropped off the edges. There would be a yellow stain just beneath the pale stain on his trousers. He turned away, trying not to show his anger.
    The Sillitoes sailed unsuspectingly towards him and met the full force of the gale.
    â€˜Hungry?’ said Rodney, seeing Ted’s piled plate.
    â€˜Get stuffed,’ said Ted, as he stomped off.
    â€˜What did I say?’ said Rodney.
    Betty indicated Sandra with her head.
    â€˜Ah!’ Rodney nodded, as if he understood, then realised that he didn’t understand. ‘What?’
    He found himself staring into Sandra’s disconcertingly knowing young eyes and turned away. Now the Sillitoes were on collision course with Neville and Liz.
    â€˜Ah!’ said Neville. ‘The Sillitoes! Calmer waters!’
    â€˜What?’ said Rodney. ‘Well, who’d have thought Rita’d ever do a thing like that?’
    â€˜Will we ever