Laura made a rough calculation. ‘That’s nearly a bottle per person, no wonder they were shocked.’

‘That’s just the red wine. The champagne and the white is all being chilled.’

Laura laughed. ‘My goodness!’

‘Rupert says dinner parties where the empty bottles don’t exceed the number of guests are niggardly affairs. And Eleanora says writers all drink like fish.’

‘Well, I don’t think we need worry about anyone going thirsty!’

‘There’s masses of soft stuff as well, if you don’t want to drink much.’

Laura made a rueful face. ‘I’d prefer not to tonight. Rupert still needs to run through his pieces for Saturday, so we’ll have to get up at a reasonable time tomorrow.’

‘Rupert’s cooking breakfast, so unless it’s before dawn, I’m afraid you’ve missed that slot.’

This was a bit of a blow. Doing something like this without proper preparation could end up the most amateur disaster: hideously embarrassing. Suppressing a feeling of panic, Laura said, ‘Oh well, might as well get pie-eyed then!’ Seeing Sarah’s searching look she added, ‘It’s all right, I’m joking.’

There was a pre-dinner reception in the long gallery that had, Fenella told Laura proudly, been the venue for a celebrity wedding that had featured in all the gossip magazines. Laura hadn’t liked to admit she didn’t read gossip magazines, but when she had passed this information on to Monica, she was very impressed.

Monica was sharing Laura’s little cottage for the festival while Grant was in a local b. and b. Monica arrived back from sorting out yet another ‘slight hiccup’ on the music side of things while Laura was ironing her best white shirt.

After hellos, the discussion about opening a bottle of wine or not and the bewailing of Dermot’s as yet no-show, Monica said, ‘You’re not wearing that, are you?’

‘Why not? It’s clean, freshly ironed, and I’ve got all the dog hair off my black trousers!’ Laura was feeling combative, mainly because she felt she was going to look a little dull next to Monica’s glittering pink number that perfectly toned with her glittering pink hair.

‘Haven’t you got anything else?’

Laura sighed. ‘I was going to go into town and buy something, but the time slipped away.’

‘OK, let’s think. You’re a bit shorter than Fenella. Shoe size?’

Laura told her and Monica rushed off. For want of something better to do, Laura picked up a bottle of nail varnish that had fallen out of Monica’s make-up bag and began to apply it. Lucky Monica – this was just a jolly dinner for her. It could make Laura look a complete fool.