‘Watch out! Here come the Texas Rangers,’ Jean warned. ‘You watch, they’ll push their way in and ruin all our rehearsals. I wish they could dance as well as they can ride! We do all the serious stuff, charity displays and dancing classes. They get all the glory turning up in a posse of fur coats and a cloud of blue smoke.’ But Netta couldn’t take her eyes off Ginnie Mackeever. She looked like a mannequin, tall and curvy with a stylish perm. As she twirled, the diamonds on her engagement finger flashed in the gaslight. How confident she looked and how wildly glamorous. She was wearing a New Look full skirt cinched by a waspie waist band in the very latest style. Even her boat-neck sweater was straight out of Vogue: such casual careless elegance, cutting her own workaday homespun clothes down to size.

Jean was watching her partner, eyeing her enviously. ‘Forget it, they Texas Rangers take no prisoners. Many are called but few are chosen. We’re no in their league. To be one of them you have to ride like the devil, own your own horse and drink like a fish. Oh, and have some poor soul up yer sleeve to fund all their fun and games, hen.’

You could be useful to them, Netta thought to herself, sew them up outfits as up to date as any they are wearing. But if you want some of their clothing allowance you’ll have to run yourself up something stunning for the Ball, something they will notice and want to know where you bought it. Yes, St Andrew’s Night must be the next stepping stone on her path to success.

*

The buffet supper was demolished. An afterglow of speeches and toasts lay like a smoky haze over the assembly. The hotel ballroom glittered with silver buckles and tartans in the lamplight, from deepest scarlet to midnight blue: Macgregor, Macduff, Macleod, Black Watch, Scott, Ogilvie, all the colours of the rainbow set against black velvet and white satin.

Tonight Netta felt the colours around her so keenly that she could almost taste them. Carmines smelled of burnt rose petals; yellows brought a tinge of mustard and gorse flowers; greens were the newly cropped fields of grass, and blue and purple brought whiffs of smoke and heather honey to her nostrils. She sat back to admire the guests, glad to have joined the dancing group.