Woody was now the same height as his father, and he put on one of Papa’s old dress suits. It was a bit worn, but that was all right. The younger boys would be wearing school suits or blazers, but the college men would have tuxedos, and Woody was keen to look older. Tonight he would dance with her, he thought as he slicked his hair with brilliantine. He would be allowed to hold her in his arms. The palms of his hands would feel the warmth of her skin. He would look into her eyes as she smiled. Her breasts would brush against his jacket as they danced.

When he came down, his parents were waiting in the drawing room, Papa drinking a cocktail, Mama smoking a cigarette. Papa was long and thin, and looked like a coat-hanger in his double-breasted tuxedo. Mama was beautiful, despite having only one eye, the other being permanently closed – she had been born that way. Tonight she looked stunning in a floor-length dress, black lace over red silk, and a short black velvet evening jacket.

Woody’s grandmother was the last to arrive. At sixty-eight she was poised and elegant, as thin as her son but petite. She studied Mama’s dress and said: ‘Rosa, dear, you look wonderful.’ She was always kind to her daughter-in-law. To everyone else she was waspish.

Gus made her a cocktail without being asked. Woody hid his impatience while she took her time drinking it. Grandmama could never be hurried. She assumed no social event would begin before she arrived: she was the grand old lady of Buffalo society, widow of a senator and mother of another, matriarch of one of the city’s oldest and most distinguished families.

Woody asked himself when he had fallen for Joanne. He had known her most of his life, but he had always regarded girls as uninteresting spectators to the exciting adventures of boys – until two or three years ago, when girls had suddenly become even more fascinating than cars and speedboats. Even then he had been more interested in girls his own age or a little younger. Joanne, for her part, had always treated him as a kid – a bright kid, worth talking to now and again, but certainly not a possible boyfriend. But this summer, for no reason he could put a finger on, he had suddenly begun to see her as the most alluring girl in the world. Sadly, her feelings for him had not undergone a similar transformation.

Not yet.

Grandmama addressed a question to his brother. ‘How is school, Chuck?’

‘Terrible, Grandmama, as you know perfectly well. I’m the family cretin, a throwback to our chimpanzee forbears.’

‘Cretins don’t use phrases such as “our chimpanzee forbears” in my experience. Are you quite sure laziness plays no part?’

Rosa butted in. ‘Chuck’s teachers say he works pretty hard at school, Mama.’

Gus added: ‘And he beats me at chess.’

‘Then I ask what the problem is,’ Grandmama persisted. ‘If this goes on, he won’t get into Harvard.’