Page 54 of A Snowfall of Silver

“My sister,” Kit says, coming to stand close behind me. “Now, what seems to be the problem?”

“It’s just those last few buttons,” I say, twisting slightly. “I think you would have had to be a contortionist to get yourselves in and out of these things alone. I suppose they had maids.”

He does up the few remaining buttons on my dress. I have got my breathing back under control, but there is a moment when I feel his hands brush, ever so lightly, over the skin between my shoulder blades, and something peculiar happens to my knees.

“Are you all right?” he asks. His voice is low.

“I think I must be hungry,” I frown. “It’s been hours since those jam sandwiches.” My stomach growls, and I laugh. “You see?”

Kit does up the final button and steps back. “There you go,” he says. “Let’s go and find sustenance. Although … take a look at yourself first.” Our eyes meet in the mirror and his crease up at the edges in a faint smile. “You look very lovely.”

I shake the lavender skirts out and tilt my head to the side. “I feel like I’m Cinderella, about to be swept off to the ball.” I turn to admire the dress from the side. “I’ll start making deep curtsies to everyone again, just like I did when I first started, and Mr Cantwell will sack me!”

Kit laughs. “I’m sure you can rein in the curtsies if you try.”

“Perhaps, but I should at least have a fan that I can flutter coquettishly, and slap across people’s wrist’s while saying ‘La!’”

“That is very specific.”

“All right,” I say, giving my reflection one more quick examination. “I’m ready, let’s go.”

Kit puts his hand to his chest, and executes a smart little bow, before holding out his elbow to me.

I slip my hand into the crook of his arm. The fine black material of his topcoat is smooth. “Don’t bow, or I will start curtseying.”

“Sorry,” he says. “I think it’s the dress.”

We make our way down the corridor, and my beautiful dress rustles, whispering across the wooden floorboards like a secret.

“Are you ready?” Kit asks, a gleam in his eye, as we head towards the wings.

I glance at him. “Of course I am.”

But I’m not at all. When we erupt on to the stage I come to a clattering halt, my gasp audible even above the record player that is sending slow, sweet music curling through the air.

As if we are in a play, the company stops what it was doing and swings around to welcome us, and there is a pause, a silence, that lasts only a moment in which I take in the incredible scene before me.

The stage is dressed like an enchanted forest in the snow. Beautiful silk screens, painted with slender, silver-trunked trees, stretch out around us. Impossibly, magically, there is snow on the ground coating the stage and building up into little piles at the side. A low, rosy glow is cast over the scene.

Running the length of the stage is a long banquet table, surrounded by seats with deep red velvet cushions. The table groans under the weight of pies and cakes and platters of fruit. There is cold roast chicken and a beautiful shell pink salmon. Nestled between the dishes are enormous, heavy candelabras, the lit candles in them shining like tiny stars. There are jars with candles in them dotted around the darkened auditorium, giving the feeling that we are standing amid the constellations.

“It’s impossible,” I whisper, and I feel the vibration of Kit’s laugh under my hand. “How did you all do this? The snow?”

“Magic,” he replies.

“No, but really,” I ask. “How is this possible?”

“Tomorrow I will tell you the prosaic ways in which we create snow for the stage,” he says. “Tonight, let’s just agree … magic.”

“All right,” I say. “Magic.”

Sophie, in a gorgeous gold dress that matches Nora’s waistcoat, fusses over the table, and Mr Pennington – who really does make a very convincing vicar – is gazing adoringly at Eileen Turner, who is resplendent in a gown of midnight blue velvet, with a collar of sparkling diamonds at her neck. Ordinarily, I’d say the diamonds were simply glass costume jewellery, but tonight who knows? I wouldn’t be at all surprised to find Eileen dripping with the Crown Jewels themselves.

Dan and Russ are both in full military regalia, and I’m reminded of the first time I met Russ. He looks just as dashing now. Next to them, Kit’s outfit is stark in its simplicity, but somehow all the more elegant for it.

“Thank goodness you’re here!” Nora calls over. “Now we can eat!”

There’s a cheer at that, and we drop eagerly into our seats, talking all over each other and admiring one another’s costumes, passing dishes around in an intricate dance as we fill our plates.