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Arch to see the end of it—we’ll have to be in the crowd then, but that’s part of the fun. There’ll be singing and speeches and I hear there may be a bonfire!” He knocked on a door, which was opened by a footman, or manservant of some kind, who clearly recognized Sir Alan.
    “Come in, girls,” Sir Alan said, and led the way up a steep flight of stairs. “Then afterwards,” he continued, as we followed him, “I thought I might give you a spot of dinner at the Blue Nile.”
    Betsy turned around and raised her eyebrows at me. I shrugged. You can go anywhere in a silk shirt with pearls, I thought, even a nightclub more sophisticated than we’d ever visited.
    By this time we were at the top of the stairs. The footman opened a door, letting us in to what was obviously a party. The room seemed full of people—a flutter of women in jewel-colored afternoon dresses and men in tails. They were all holding glasses and talking and laughing.
    “Did your mother know?” I murmured to Betsy as a man who was obviously the host came up and shook hands with Sir Alan.
    “She can’t have,” Betsy said, then she stepped forward to be introduced.
    “Sir Mortimer, Miss Maynard, Sir Mortimer, Miss Royston,” Sir Alan said. Sir Mortimer Whatever was fat and looked a little drunk. His palm was moist and fleshy.
    “Drinks are on the sideboard, put your coats in the bedroom,” Sir Mortimer said to Betsy, and to me, “Where has Alan been hiding your
    “Thank you so much for inviting us,” Betsy said.
    I just smiled, and looked aside. Aside happened to be at a blond woman in peacock blue silk, who was looking at me as if she wouldn’t have offered tuppence for me. I looked back at Sir Mortimer, but he had drifted off.
    “Coats in the bedroom,” I said, grimly, to Betsy.
    “No, hold on to your coats,” Sir Alan said. “We’ll be dashing off after the parade has passed, remember. Let me get you some drinks.”
    It was the middle of April, and the bow window that gave onto the square was open, but there was a cheerful fire in the grate and I felt too warm in my sweater and raincoat. I took the coat off and folded it over my arm, with my bag dangling. Betsy copied me, grimacing. “We should have worn some of our Paris dresses,” she said, through gritted teeth.
    “They’re all strangers, it doesn’t matter,” I said. I wished we could have gone into the bedroom and put on the pearls. I felt dowdy in my mauve sweater and heather tweed skirt.
    Sir Alan returned with two drinks, cocktails. I sipped mine as he went off to fetch another for himself. I wasn’t sure what the mixture was, but I could definitely taste gin, which meant Betsy wouldn’t like it. I didn’t drink much, but I much preferred cocktails to beer. The smell of beer always made me feel slightly sick. It reminded me of the way my mother had smelled the last time I had seen her, when she had come home briefly to tell us she was leaving for good.
    “This is jolly,” Sir Alan said, coming back. “Let’s see if we can see anything yet.”
    We made our way to the window, and I leaned out. The sun had set, and presumably the parade had started off, but all I could see was the crowded pavement below, where people were waving Union Jacks and Farthing flags. People were calling out that they had candyfloss, wet sponges, marshmallows. Across the street, there were parties at other windows. The sky was fading behind the roof peaks and chimney tops, which stood out like cardboard cutout silhouettes, and I looked from them to the lit windows, and back again. A flock of birds, pigeons probably, wheeled across the sky, heading home before dark.
    “A penny for them, Cinderella,” Sir Alan said.
    “My thoughts are worth much more than a penny,” I said, flirtatiously.
    “Well, half a crown for them, then?”
    “Not worth as much as that. I was only wondering where city birds sleep,” I said.
    Just then I heard the first strains of the band, and turned to look out