Mrs Harris escaped me with an insincere ‘Sorry, Constance, would you excuse me a moment? Do go in and make yourself at home.’

Yes. Of course. Because this was so like my home.

I necked the champagne faster than was acceptable. My glass was near empty by the time I’d reached the lounge.

Alison’s desperate wave greeted me from across the room and I weaved through the overpriced saccharine colognes and perfumes to reach her.

‘Oh my God, Constance, I hardly recognized you. Then I said to Kevin, “Kevin, I think that’s Constance over there” . . . and it was you. Didn’t I, Kevin?’

Kevin was so nondescript I can’t even recall his face. He nodded and raised his glass.

‘Sip it slowly, Kevin . . . He’s driving,’ she said, looking at me. ‘You’ve not met Kevin, have you, Constance?’

‘No . . . but I’ve heard so, so much about you.’

He nodded and raised his glass again. And I, at last, understood why Alison never shut the fuck up. She was used to having to be both sides of the conversation.

‘So, who’s here?’ I asked.

‘Well, Dr Harris is around somewhere. I’ve already wished him a very happy birthday . . . and he said, “Alison, you are so sweet.” And Dr Short was here a moment ago chatting to Dr Franco, and Linda is around too. Her husband, Graham, well, he . . .’

My mind drifted for some time until I heard ‘. . . and Dr Stevens was in the hall when I arrived . . .’

I continued listening as if those words had no impact. Hadn’t caused my heart to double-beat. Kevin had unfortunately found his voice and I pretended to be interested in his story of how they almost ran out of petrol on the way there because he wouldn’t stop at the Esso garage that had once refused a ‘perfectly genuine’ twenty-pound note. It must have been a great comfort to Alison. Knowing there was someone in the world more boring than her.

I excused myself. Tilting my glass for them to see its emptiness.

‘Already? You are funny.’ Alison laughed and slapped Kevin’s arm.

As I made my way through the Tories, I was faced with Dr Harris’s fat back. Out of politeness, I tapped his jacket. ‘Hi, Dr Harris. Happy birthday.’

He turned, performed a cartoon double-take, then thanked my tits. I escaped him by asking directions to the toilet.

Legs crossed, I tried the handle of the door in a hallway off a hallway, but it was locked, and I could hear more than one voice laughing inside.