hostess yet and it was something she must do before she left.
There was a sweep of staircase at one end of the room, and she ascended it to a mezzanine floor that overlooked the party. It was quiet up here, with a good view of Emily standing nervously beside her father. She turned and saw a set of double doors behind her. It was roped off, but that only added to its intrigue. She unhooked the rope and opened the door to see what was behind it, gasping in delight as she saw that it led on to a beautiful terrace with views of the back of Belgravia’s finest houses – huge bay windows lit up and glowing like pumpkins in the dark.
Faintly she could hear that the speeches had started, and she was glad she was away from it all. She opened her bag, pulled out her cigarettes and lit a Gauloise. As she inhaled, she could taste the tar and smell the honeysuckle that was creeping up a trellis next to her.
‘Could I have one?’
She turned and saw a pair of the brightest blue eyes she had ever seen.
‘I’ve only got two,’ she stuttered quickly at the handsome young man who had come out on to the balcony. He had short dark blond hair and the hint of a winter tan, and he filled out his dinner jacket better than any other deb’s delight she had seen at the party.
‘Perfect,’ he grinned as she offered him the remnants of her pack.
He stuck his cigarette tip into the flame that Georgia offered him from her lighter and smiled languidly at her.
‘Couldn’t bear the speeches either?’
‘He’s just a proud father, I suppose.’ She took another drag of her cigarette. ‘No, I came out here because I hardly know anyone in there and I thought it would be better to be alone with my thoughts than alone with a bunch of strangers.’
‘Well, I can introduce you to some people. This is the second year I’ve done it. It’s not so bad if you just relax into it.’
‘You’re an old hand at the Season then,’ she grinned.
‘It’s a way of getting fed and watered for six months of the year. Plus it’s rather nice to spend the evening with beautiful girls on moonlit terraces.’
She glanced away, embarrassed.
He blew a smoke ring, his inherent confidence obvious without him even saying a word.
‘Allow me to introduce myself. I’m Harry Bowen.’
‘Georgia Hamilton. Pleased to meet you.’
‘Who would you like to meet? Although I’d be happy to stand out here all night talking to you.’
‘But you don’t even know me.’
‘I’ve always found people who like being alone with their thoughts more interesting than most.’
‘Actually I’d rather be sitting at a pavement café with a group of friends or in a jazz club listening to music. I’m not really the painfully introspective sort,’ she smiled.
‘So why don’t we?’
‘Do what?’
‘Split from this place. We could go into Soho or to the King’s Road. Actually, I have an even better idea. There’s another party in Richmond, starting in about an hour, that a bunch of my friends you would really like are heading over to. We could drive out there, stay up all night and head for breakfast at Heathrow.’
‘Richmond? Heathrow?’ she said, secretly feeling swept up in the adventure of it all.
‘I love the airport. It’s a good job I haven’t got my passport with me or who knows where we might end up. It’s one of the reasons I joined the army. Other than the fact that I was too thick for university. I love the idea that we could get deployed anywhere.’
Georgia looked at him wide-eyed.
‘But surely if you were sent away, you’d be going to war? I can think of safer ways to travel.’
‘You say that as if you care.’ He smiled and she felt her heart do a little flip. She was blushing, too, and was glad the moonlight was dim.
‘What do you say? Stay or go?’
‘I’ve love to get out of here, but I fear the speeches might go on for some time. I get the feeling that Mr Nightingale likes the sound of his own voice.’
‘So let’s
There was a sweep of staircase at one end of the room, and she ascended it to a mezzanine floor that overlooked the party. It was quiet up here, with a good view of Emily standing nervously beside her father. She turned and saw a set of double doors behind her. It was roped off, but that only added to its intrigue. She unhooked the rope and opened the door to see what was behind it, gasping in delight as she saw that it led on to a beautiful terrace with views of the back of Belgravia’s finest houses – huge bay windows lit up and glowing like pumpkins in the dark.
Faintly she could hear that the speeches had started, and she was glad she was away from it all. She opened her bag, pulled out her cigarettes and lit a Gauloise. As she inhaled, she could taste the tar and smell the honeysuckle that was creeping up a trellis next to her.
‘Could I have one?’
She turned and saw a pair of the brightest blue eyes she had ever seen.
‘I’ve only got two,’ she stuttered quickly at the handsome young man who had come out on to the balcony. He had short dark blond hair and the hint of a winter tan, and he filled out his dinner jacket better than any other deb’s delight she had seen at the party.
‘Perfect,’ he grinned as she offered him the remnants of her pack.
He stuck his cigarette tip into the flame that Georgia offered him from her lighter and smiled languidly at her.
‘Couldn’t bear the speeches either?’
‘He’s just a proud father, I suppose.’ She took another drag of her cigarette. ‘No, I came out here because I hardly know anyone in there and I thought it would be better to be alone with my thoughts than alone with a bunch of strangers.’
‘Well, I can introduce you to some people. This is the second year I’ve done it. It’s not so bad if you just relax into it.’
‘You’re an old hand at the Season then,’ she grinned.
‘It’s a way of getting fed and watered for six months of the year. Plus it’s rather nice to spend the evening with beautiful girls on moonlit terraces.’
She glanced away, embarrassed.
He blew a smoke ring, his inherent confidence obvious without him even saying a word.
‘Allow me to introduce myself. I’m Harry Bowen.’
‘Georgia Hamilton. Pleased to meet you.’
‘Who would you like to meet? Although I’d be happy to stand out here all night talking to you.’
‘But you don’t even know me.’
‘I’ve always found people who like being alone with their thoughts more interesting than most.’
‘Actually I’d rather be sitting at a pavement café with a group of friends or in a jazz club listening to music. I’m not really the painfully introspective sort,’ she smiled.
‘So why don’t we?’
‘Do what?’
‘Split from this place. We could go into Soho or to the King’s Road. Actually, I have an even better idea. There’s another party in Richmond, starting in about an hour, that a bunch of my friends you would really like are heading over to. We could drive out there, stay up all night and head for breakfast at Heathrow.’
‘Richmond? Heathrow?’ she said, secretly feeling swept up in the adventure of it all.
‘I love the airport. It’s a good job I haven’t got my passport with me or who knows where we might end up. It’s one of the reasons I joined the army. Other than the fact that I was too thick for university. I love the idea that we could get deployed anywhere.’
Georgia looked at him wide-eyed.
‘But surely if you were sent away, you’d be going to war? I can think of safer ways to travel.’
‘You say that as if you care.’ He smiled and she felt her heart do a little flip. She was blushing, too, and was glad the moonlight was dim.
‘What do you say? Stay or go?’
‘I’ve love to get out of here, but I fear the speeches might go on for some time. I get the feeling that Mr Nightingale likes the sound of his own voice.’
‘So let’s
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