Page 22 of A Snowfall of Silver

As congratulatory speeches go it is not exactly effusive. There’s a muted ripple of applause, and then he sweeps from the room, followed by Miss Meriden.

“Rest be damned!” Russ exclaims, when they are safely out of earshot. “I’m gasping for a drink!”

This time, the cheer is much louder.

I spot the missing shoe and snatch it up, then gather the remaining pieces of costume and go to find Nora. As I hurry down the corridor I run almost head first into Kit.

His red hair is tousled, sticking out at peculiar angles, and his eyes are shining. “Freya!” he exclaims. He swings me around in a little jig. “How about that for a first night?”

“It was wonderful,” I reply, beaming up at him. My heart clatters in my chest, and I feel warm, almost feverish, with a crashing mixture of excitement and relief that everything went well.

“Don’t let Nora keep you, will you?” Kit says, releasing me and heading off down the corridor. “Make sure the two of you get back to Del’s for the party.”

“A party?” I frown. “I thought it was just a drink…” But Kit is already gone.

CHAPTER TWELVE

By the time Nora and I walk through the door at Del’s I see that Kit was not exaggerating. This is a party, all right. In fact, it’s an absolute squeeze.

“Who are they all?” I ask Nora as we push through the front hallway. People are propped along the wall, deep in conversations, laughing, smoking, and drinking from a variety of strange receptacles. There’s a general air of dishevelment, as though everyone has rushed over from the theatre as soon as possible.

I realize that I haven’t even looked in a mirror for hours, and run one hand quickly over my hair, jabbing at the loose pins there, and another down the front of my slightly crumpled frock.

“Nora!” An attractive woman with dark hair cut boyishly short catches Nora by the arm.

“Darling,” Nora’s voice is a purr, “I didn’t know you were in Oxford.”

“I heard you were going to be in town.” The woman’s voice matches Nora’s, and smiling, Nora pulls her slowly into her arms and kisses her very soundly, full on the lips.

Blimey. My eyes widen, and I leave Nora to it, pushing my way through towards the sitting room, keeping my eyes peeled for Alma or the flash of Kit’s hair.

I follow the compelling jangle of jazz music coming from the record player, weaving my way past a group gathered at the foot of the stairs who – for some reason – are all wearing animal masks. A badger lifts his mask as I pass, in order to give me a leery wink, and a hand brushes – not quite accidentally – across my hip.

I shove and squeeze my way into the sitting room, where I can see neither Alma nor Kit, but find Russ instead, holding court, telling a story that has the group around him laughing. There’s more than one pretty girl there, and he looks extremely pleased with himself, flashing his perfect white smile. I wonder if, like the Cheshire Cat, the rest of him could fade away and the self-satisfied grin would remain. I chuckle at the thought. At that moment, he catches my eye.

“Little Freya!” he exclaims, reaching for my hand and drawing me into the circle. “Someone fetch a drink for little Freya, the only girl here who’s had the pleasure of undressing me. So far, anyway,” he adds in a low voice and the giggles that greet this remark leave me raising my eyes to heaven.

Someone presses a chipped teacup full of water into my hand. I take a swig and almost spit the whole thing out. Not water. Gin. Neat gin.

Russ looks upon me with the sort of fond amusement one may reserve for a young sibling and I straighten my spine, instantly riled. I certainly don’t want him thinking of me in that light. I sip carefully at my drink and try not to grimace.

He must notice, because he drops an easy arm around my shoulder. “Don’t be cross, darling,” he murmurs, close to my ear, his breath warm against my cheek. Then he pulls away, his dark eyes dancing. “Although you do look adorable when you pout.”

I shrug his arm away and feed my cup of gin to the sad-looking potted fern beside me. “I’m not cross,” I say. “And I’m perfectly happy to be adored.” I hesitate. “Although, to be honest, I wasn’t pouting so much as making a face over the gin, and I find it hard to believe that was especially attractive. I think you must be a little drunk.”

He stares at me for a moment, and then, suddenly he laughs, a real laugh, long and loud, and – after a very brief pause – his crowd of sycophants join in.

That’s when I spot Alma, marooned across the room with a young man, who is wearing a lot of black and standing much too close to her while gesturing earnestly. Her eyes are darting around the room and I get the strong impression she is not enjoying herself.

“I must go,” I say, and Russ clutches at his chest.

“You can’t leave me. Stay!”

I laugh, and leave him to his fans, though I feel his eyes on my back as I cut through the crowds until I reach Alma.

“Freya!” she exclaims in obvious relief. “I was just telling … um…”

“Nathaniel,” the young man supplies, frowning.