Page 72 of A Sky Painted Gold

“It’s for a midnight feast,” Caitlin explains. “People will need food to soak up the drinks.” She turns to me, her voice nervous, expectant. “Well, what do you think? It’s harder to tell when you’re wearing a mask.”

“What do I think?” I ask, dazed. “I think … I think it’s the most magical, ridiculous, extravagant, wonderful thing I’ve ever seen.” I shake my head. “I think you’d better pinch me because I feel like I’m in a dream.”

Caitlin obligingly gives me a good pinch, proving that I am, in fact, very much awake.

“Happy birthday,” she says, raising her glass. “Here’s to you!”

“I’ll drink to that,” I say, and we both drink, the green cocktail somehow both sweet and spicy at the same time.

“I’m so glad we got the chance to throw a last, really big party before we leave,” Caitlin says, slipping her arm through mine and turning to wander back towards the crowds. “And that it is for such a good reason.”

Despite the balmy evening I feel a cold shiver rush through me at her words. Of course they’re leaving, I tell myself sternly. The summer is ending and you know that they will leave. You have always known. I hear Alice’s voice ringing in my head again: You’re not like them, Lou, no matter how much you want to be. Pushing the words away, I drain my drink in one go, feeling a rush of light-headedness.

“Easy, darling,” Caitlin says. “Those things will go straight to your head.”

“And why not?” I say, enjoying the reckless feeling that sings through my body. “It’s a party, isn’t it? My party.”

Caitlin’s eyes shine behind her mask. “Well, when you put it that way…” she says, emptying her own glass.

I laugh, delighted. If all of this is about to end, then tonight I want to believe in the fantasy. I want to be bright and young and impetuous. I am enjoying this world, in which all the sharp edges seem to have been rubbed off and I have only to think about what will make me feel good. We trip, giggling, across the lawn towards the bar. The band are set up now, and they are playing something sparkling. The lanterns tremble overhead in the light breeze that is rolling in from the sea and the sea stretches out in front of us, dark and unfathomable. It is as if we are on a boat, I think dreamily, one of those big ships all lit up and bobbing about on the inky water, headed for who knows where.

“Daaaaaaaarlings!” I hear a familiar voice cry, and there is Bernie, descending upon us with his arms outstretched. “Happy birthday, darling. I’ve been looking for you everywhere,” he says, kissing me on both cheeks. “What a scrum,” he groans, turning his attention to Caitlin. “It’s already the party of the season. Too, too sick-making that you have such style you can pull this together in under a week.” He steps back, allowing me to admire his costume. Had it not been for his greeting I may not have been able to pick him out of the crowd. He is dressed as a matador, in a black coat with gold embroidery and a red cloak. A red domino mask gives him a rakish look.

“You’re not doing too badly on the style front yourself,” Caitlin says, eyeing his outfit.

“You’re too kind,” he says preeningly. “But how can I compete with you two beauties? And you, birthday girl.” He lifts my hand and spins me around, sending my silk skirt rippling around me. “What a revelation you are. You look like a beautiful nymph.”

“A sprite, actually.” I giggle.

Bernie lets out a low whistle then, and I glance over my shoulder to where he is looking. Laurie is walking towards us and her costume is turning every head as she passes. She is dressed as Scheherazade, in flowing blue silk pantaloons and a blue-and-silver top that exposes her smooth, golden midriff. Bangles and scarves adorn her wrists and a jewelled headband crowns her short, dark hair. The blue mask that she is wearing does nothing to disguise her … no one else could wear such a costume, no one else sways in such a sultry way, and she wears an anklet covered in tiny bells that jangle as she walks towards us.

Behind her is the prettiest boy I have ever seen, and it takes me a moment to place that mischievous grin. It is Elodie, in a top hat and tails, a neat white waistcoat nipping her in at the waist. Her dark hair is coiled at the nape of her neck, and her hat sits at a rakish angle. A black mask frames her expressive eyes, and a small, thin moustache has been etched on her top lip with charcoal.

“Bernie,” Laurie says, upon reaching us and dishing out lingering kisses. “You remember Elodie?”

“Of course.” Bernie’s eyes travel from the top of Elodie’s hat to her toes with a languid show of appreciation. “You both look ravishing.”

“Elodie is going to sing.” Laurie gestures to the stage. “Dance with me, will you?” she asks Bernie.

“Delighted,” Bernie purrs, taking her arm. As they move away I realize that Laurie is completely oblivious to the eyes that follow her every movement.

“Lou,” Caitlin says, touching my arm. “I have to go and take Elodie up to the stage and check on the food for later. Will you be OK? I shouldn’t be long.”

“Go, go.” I wave them both away. “I’m going to get another drink. I’ll be fine.”

I push my way through the crowd to the bar. “Champagne, please,” I say to the man mixing the drinks.

“Make it two,” an unfamiliar voice says. It’s a man I don’t know, and he seems to be wearing some kind of toga. “I like your costume,” he says, running his eyes over me with a little too much interest.

“Thank you,” I say politely. “I like yours too.”

“My friend and I both came in togas.” He shrugs. “Afraid we had to rather throw things together to get down here from London in time. Bloody middle of nowhere, eh?”

“Oh, yes,” I say, gratefully accepting my drink from the bartender.

“Know the girl whose party it is, do you?” he asks, moving closer to me. “Lois?”

“No,” I say flatly.