I also felt a clear, absolute certainty that from now on all things were and would be possible. Happiness became wound up with anticipation to a point of tension that was almost unbearable, and it made me suddenly giddy. As Xan swung us in an exuberant circle I tripped and overbalanced on my high heel. A hot skewer of pain stabbed from my ankle up my calf and I would have fallen if he hadn’t wrapped his arm more tightly round my waist.

‘Are you all right?’

I drew in a breath and blew it out hard to stop myself howling.

‘Just … twisted it.’ The dancers formed a circle round us.

‘Here, I’ll carry you.’ He slid his other arm beneath my thighs, ready to lift me off my feet. At that moment I saw Sandy. He came steaming through the dancers towards us, crimson in the face, the studs popping out of his shirt front. His eyes seemed to swivel in opposite directions.

‘What’s going on?’ he shouted. ‘Molyneux. You … what d’you think you’re doing?’

‘Helping Miss Black to a chair,’ Xan drily replied, straightening up. ‘She has twisted her ankle.’

I took a step away from his side and nearly fell over, Xan immediately lunged to my rescue, and we almost toppled in a heap. As we struggled to right ourselves in a tangle of arms and legs I laughed up at him, in spite of the pain in my ankle, and I heard a wounded bellow from Sandy. He came flailing at Xan and caught the collar of his evening coat. Xan let go of me and twisted round to face Sandy who planted a wild punch on his jaw.

‘Leave my girl alone,’ Sandy shouted, but having landed his awkward blow the belligerence was visibly draining out of him. He gazed around at the circle of onlookers but he couldn’t see any ready support. His big, shiny red face seemed to crumple inwards, oozing whisky from every pore. I watched miserably, balancing on one foot, wanting to tell the sticky air – but for Xan to hear – that I wasn’t Sandy’s girl at all, and feeling ashamed of the impulse.

‘You know, I really don’t want to hit you back, Allardyce,’ Xan drawled. One hand slipped into the pocket of his coat. He sounded amused, not at all perturbed. ‘It would make such a mess.’

‘He’s right, it would,’ another voice chipped in. Jessie James had appeared, with Faria beside him. Her sharp eyes took in everything. She held out her arm and I leaned on it as Sandy caught hold of me on the other side. His hand was hot and damp, and there were little glittering rivulets of sweat running from his hairline to his stiff collar. He jerked his head at Xan and Jessie, but he was already in retreat.

‘It’s not funny.’

‘Are we laughing?’ Jessie innocently asked.