– Her poetry makes me die every time I read it.

– What’s the new director like at the Theatre Royal? she asks him.

– Cruickshank, he is efficient! He’s partner in his dad’s builders firm, they built King’s Theatre.

He sips champagne.

– Were you in the Cameo last week, Flora?

– Easy Virtue?

– Aye!

– I knew I’d seen you somewhere. Are you still in touch with…

– Clara Bow?

He raises his fingers to his lips. Someone calls his name. Flora reclines on a chaise. Behind her there are four women in suits, no bras, breasts on show when they lean forward. The glimpse of a nipple and laughter to turn her head, a flash of white teeth. Each is smoking. They have perfect real-looking little moustaches on. They sit with their legs spread wide. The way men do. Mr Torrance has admirers gathering. A small group of men flutter around him. They all wear leather. Eyes sparkle. People arrive in twos, threes. Some of them go into the bedroom to get changed. There is a long trail of glitter down the hallway. Stockings are pulled on. Lipstick is blotted. High heels stood up in. Legs elongate. Cheekbones materialise. Eyes pop. Tits rise. Over in the corner a circus vixen – in a diamond-encrusted bikini – flirts with a girl in a half-moon hat. Rubies dangle either side of her ears. Three jewelled strands sparkle between her eyes, heavily lined in kohl. There’s a girl in a pumpkin mask and orange striped stockings. She has a promising bulge. Could do with bumping up against her later. Cleopatra starts a hand jive. Lips red. Shiny black hair. Her ex-lover is at the door, saying hello as each person comes in.

Flora watches him the way she used to.

The social butterfly.

A maestro.

She wants to go up and touch him. Kiss his cheek. That is not allowed, no, no, no!

Flora goes to the bathroom.

Takes a small bump of cocaine to help her stay awake.

Another to sparkle.

One for luck.

A fourth for our Sainted Mary, Mother of God.

Two touches for the Father, one for the Son, another for the Holy Ghost.

There’s no reason to be cheap, is there?

She does one for Snow White and another for each of the Seven Dwarves.

It takes a long, long while of gripping onto the bathroom sink before she stops feeling like her heart is going to explode across the walls.

– Done too much! Done too much! It’s okay. Just breathe…

She whispers to herself.