The glamorous raven-haired beauty displayed a row of perfect teeth as she sat opposite Mummy. “We meet again after so long, Claire,” she said. “I can see that the years have been as good to you as they have to me.”

She spoke in a deep, husky voice, her English accent now tinged with years of living in America.

Mummy stared at her, then she threw back her head and laughed. “It’s Gertie. My God. Little Gertie Oldham.”

She turned to the rest of us. “We were in a pantomime together before the war. I was the principal boy, of course, and Gertie and her sister were the babes in the wood. It all comes back to me now. Gertie and Flossie, the Oldham Sisters. Absolutely adorable. They sang, they danced, they did acrobatics. So talented. You know, I thought I recognized you when I saw your latest film.”

Stella Brightwell didn’t look too amused about being reminded of her days as Gertie Oldham. “Gertie and Flossie. Can you imagine how awful that sounds now?” Stella Brightwell gave a tinkling laugh. “Soon after you married your duke we dropped those names and became Stella and Bella Brightwell.” She paused to take a sip from the martini that the waiter had placed in front of her.

“And what became of your sister?” Mummy asked.

“Left show business,” Stella said. “She never quite had my looks and talent, did she? And I was smart enough to go to Hollywood to chance my luck in films. She didn’t want to leave England. I haven’t seen her for ages.” She reached across and put her hand over Mummy’s. “But it’s so lovely to meet you again, Claire. You know, Cy, she might be the answer to our prayers.”

“You know, you may be right, honey.” They were both staring at Mummy.

“Which prayers are these?” Mummy asked, looking half amused.

“We’ll talk about it later,” Cy Goldman said. “I’m sure these other good people don’t want to be bothered with show business talk.”

“Oh, but we find it fascinating,” Lady Porter said. “Such a different manner of living when one’s own life is confined to living in an English country town and organizing the Women’s Institute.”

“You do a splendid job with your charity work, my dear,” Sir Digby said. “And you are quite the star in your amateur dramatics.” He turned to us. “She was outstanding in The Pirates of Penzance.”

“Oh, Digby. We don’t want to talk about my little stage triumphs.” Lady Porter tittered, going very pink.

“Were you one of the pirates?” Princess Promila asked.

Mummy choked into her champagne and managed to disguise it with a cough.

“And I don’t believe we’ve been properly introduced yet, Miss Brightwell,” Sir Digby went on in his fruity voice. “I’m Sir Digby Porter and this is my wife, Mildred.”