Woody glowed. ‘Politics is kind of the family business,’ he said. Then he was irritated by a tug at his elbow. Too polite to ignore it, he turned to see Charlie Farquharson, perspiring from his exertions on the dance floor.

‘Can I talk to you for a minute?’ said Charlie.

Woody resisted the temptation to tell him to buzz off. Charlie was a likeable guy who did no harm to anyone. You had to feel sorry for a man with a mother like that. ‘What is it, Charlie?’ he said with as much good grace as he could muster.

‘It’s about Daisy.’

‘I saw you dancing with her.’

‘Isn’t she a great dancer?’

Woody had not noticed but, to be nice, he said: ‘You bet she is!’

‘She’s great at everything.’

‘Charlie,’ said Woody, trying to suppress a tone of incredulity, ‘are you and Daisy courting?’

Charlie looked bashful. ‘We’ve been horse riding in the park a couple of times, and so on.’

‘So you are courting.’ Woody was surprised. They seemed an unlikely pair. Charlie was such a lump, and Daisy was a poppet.

Charlie added: ‘She’s not like other girls. She’s so easy to talk to! And she loves dogs and horses. But people think her father is a gangster.’

‘I guess he is a gangster, Charlie. Everyone bought their liquor from him during Prohibition.’

‘That’s what my mother says.’

‘So your mother doesn’t like Daisy.’ Woody was not surprised.

‘She likes Daisy fine. It’s Daisy’s family she objects to.’

An even more surprising thought occurred to Woody. ‘Are you thinking of marrying Daisy?’

‘Oh, God, yes,’ said Charlie. ‘And I think she might say yes, if I asked her.’

Well, Woody thought, Charlie had class but no money, and Daisy was the opposite, so maybe they would complement one another. ‘Stranger things have happened,’ he said. This was kind of fascinating, but he wanted to concentrate on his own romantic life. He looked around, checking that Joanne was still there. ‘Why are you telling me this?’ he asked Charlie. It was not as if they were great friends.

‘My mother might change her mind if Mrs Peshkov were invited to join the Buffalo Ladies Society.’

Woody had not been expecting that. ‘Why, it’s the snobbiest club in town!’

‘Exactly. If Olga Peshkov were a member, how could Mom object to Daisy?’

Woody did not know whether this scheme would work or not, but there was no doubting the earnest warmth of Charlie’s feelings. ‘Maybe you’re right,’ Woody said.

‘Would you approach your grandmother for me?’

‘Whoa! Wait a minute. Grandmama Dewar is a dragon. I wouldn’t ask her for a favour for myself, let alone for you.’

‘Woody, listen to me. You know she’s really the boss of that little clique. If she wants someone, they’re in – and if she doesn’t, they’re out.’

This was true. The Society had a chairwoman and a secretary and a treasurer, but Ursula Dewar ran the club as if it belonged to her. All the same, Woody was reluctant to petition her. She might bite his head off. ‘I don’t know,’ he said apologetically.