To Cut a Long Story Short

I introduced myself by explaining that I had been at Cambridge with our host. ‘And how do you know the Keswicks?’ I enquired.

‘I was in the same office as Kathy when we both worked for Vogue in New York.’

I remember feeling disappointed that she lived overseas. For how long, I wondered. ‘Where do you work now?’

‘I’m still in New York,’ she replied. ‘I’ve just been made the commissioning editor for Art Quarterly.’

‘I renewed my subscription only last week,’ I told her, rather pleased with myself. She smiled, evidently surprised that I’d even heard of the publication.

‘How long are you in London for?’ I asked, glancing at her left hand to check that she wore neither an engagement nor a wedding ring.

‘Only a few days. I flew over for my parents’ wedding anniversary last week, and I was hoping to catch the Lucian Freud exhibition at the Tate before I go back to New York. And what do you do?’ she asked.

‘I own a small hotel in Jermyn Street,’ I told her.

I would happily have spent the rest of the evening chatting to Susie, and not just because of my passion for art, but my mother had taught me from an early age that however much you like the person on one side of you, you must be equally attentive to the one sitting on the other side.

I turned back to Mrs Collier, who pounced on me with the words, ‘Have you read the speech my husband made in the Commons yesterday?’

I confessed that I hadn’t, which turned out to be a mistake, because she then delivered the entire offering verbatim.

Once she had completed her monologue on the subject of the Draft Civic Amenities (Landfill) Act, I could see why her husband wasn’t in the Cabinet. In fact, I made a mental note to avoid him when we retired to the drawing room for coffee.

‘I much look forward to making your husband’s acquaintance after dinner,’ I told her, before turning my attention back to Susie, only to find that she was staring at someone on the other side of the table. I glanced across to see that the man in question was deep in conversation with Mary Ellen Yarc, an American woman who was seated next to him, and seemed unaware of the attention he was receiving.

I remembered that his name was Richard something, and that he had come with the girl seated at the other end of the table. She too, I noticed, was looking in Richard’s direction. I had to confess that he had the sort of chiselled features and thick wavy hair that make it unnecessary to have a degree in quantum physics.

‘So, what’s big in New York at the moment?’ I asked, trying to recapture Susie’s attention.

She turned back to me and smiled. ‘We’re going to have a new Mayor at any moment now,’ she informed me, ‘and it could even be a Republican for a change. Frankly, I’d vote for anyone who can do something about the crime figures. One of them, I can’t remember his name, keeps talking about zero tolerance. Whoever he is, he’d get my vote.’

Although Susie’s conversation remained lively and informative, her attention frequently strayed back to the other side of the table. I would have assumed she and Richard were lovers, if he had given her as much as a glance.

Over pudding, Mrs Collier took a hatchet to the Cabinet, giving reasons why every one of them should be replaced - I didn’t need to ask by whom. By the time she’d reached the Minister of Agriculture, I felt I’d done my duty, and glanced back to find Susie pretending to be preoccupied by her summer pudding, while actually still taking far more interest in Richard.

Suddenly he looked in her direction. Without warning, Susie grabbed my hand and began talking intently about an Eric Rohmer film she had recently seen in Nice.

Few men object to a woman grabbing their hand, particularly when that woman is graced with Susie’s looks, but preferably not while she is gazing at another man.

The moment Richard resumed his conversation with our hostess, Susie immediately released my hand and dug a fork into her summer pudding.

I was grateful to be spared a third round with Mrs Collier, as Kathy rose from her place and suggested that we all go through to the drawing room. I fear this meant I had to miss out on the details of the Private Member’s Bill Mrs Collier’s husband was preparing to present to the House the following week.

Over coffee I was introduced to Richard, who turned out to be a banker from New York. He continued to ignore Susie - or perhaps, inexplicably, he simply wasn’t aware of her presence. The girl whose name I didn’t know came across to join us, and murmured in his ear, ‘We shouldn’t leave it too late, darling. Don’t forget we’re booked on the early flight to Paris.’

‘I hadn’t forgotten, Rachel,’ he replied, ‘but I’d prefer not to be the first to leave.’ Someone else who had been brought up by a fastidious mother.

I felt someone touch my arm, and swung round to find Mrs Collier beaming up at me.

‘This is my husband Reginald. I told him how keen you were to learn more about his Private Member’s Bill.’

It must have been about ten minutes later, although it felt more like a month, that Kathy came to my rescue. ‘Tony, I wonder if you’d be kind enough to give Susie a lift home. It’s pouring with rain, and finding a taxi at this time of night won’t be easy.’

‘I’d be delighted,’ I replied. ‘I must thank you for including me in such charming company. It’s all been quite fascinating,’ I said, smiling down at Mrs Collier.

The Member’s wife beamed back. My mother would have been proud of me.

In the car on the way back to her flat, Susie asked me if I had