Page 28 of Leaning In

“Should I be concerned?” I ask carefully.

“She means well.” Sophia glances at me, seeming to weigh something up. “Most of the time.”

Before I can answer, voices drift faintly from down the corridor.

“… just think you could try a little harder, Claire.”

Even from here, I hear the strain in Claire’s voice when she replies. “Mum—”

“Honestly, darling. Of all the men here tonight…”

The rest disappears beneath the swell of conversation. Then I see Claire briskly walking towards us in her heels, hair apparently pinned back into place, though I can’t notice a difference. She takes her place at my side, slipping her hand through my arm again.

“Let’s go through.”

“Do we have to?” Sophia whispers. “I really really don’t want to have to start talking to this guy Mum’s found now. I’ll use up all my conversation skills in the first ten minutes.”

“He might not be that bad,” Claire counters.

Waiters weave past us and polite laughter echoes off marble and glass. I spot Sam looking deeply uncomfortable, his shoulders hunched as a middle-aged man in a dinner jacket corners him, waxing lyrical about “athletic discipline”. Sam nods, but his eyes are darting towards the exit like he’s planning a swim for freedom. Kath’s standing beside him smiling; she was always the chatty one of the pair of them.

We eventually find our table, where an impeccably dressed man stands drinking champagne and surveying the room. His sleeves aren’t too short—no—they’re perfect. I fight the urge to tug at mine again. Sophia takes a deep breath, and then walks over, extending a hand. Even without wearing heels she’s taller than him, and I see her begin to hunch again. She shoots Claire a look and the two of us go to introduce ourselves as well.

“Freddie.” He extends a hand to me. “My mother’s on the board with Claire and Sophia’s mother. How do you know the girls?”

“Hi, I’m Tom.” I shake his hand. “I’m Claire’s plus one.”

“Right.” He continues looking over my shoulder before turning back to Sophia.

Claire squeezes my arm again. I take another sip of champagne. This evening isn’t anything like I’d expected. I know she warned me, but I thought I’d get to spend time with her, just the two of us in a crowd, maybe even make her laugh through the awkward speeches and the endless small talk. Instead Claire’s slowly becoming quieter and more distracted.

Before I can draw her back in, her mother materialises, nails gleaming as she hooks an arm through Claire’s. “Darling, there are people you must meet.”

And just like that, Claire’s gone, swallowed into the tide of donors and dignitaries, leaving me standing alone by the table as Sophia is whisked off somewhere by Freddie.

I try to engage in conversation with someone standing nearby, but they don’t seem interested. They just nod politely until someone better comes along. The next person immediately sidles away the moment they see a famous athlete. I go to find Claire again, but she’s dragged away by her mum within minutes. I have no idea where her dad is, if he’s even in the country. Claire mentioned he goes abroad for work a lot.

I’m momentarily stranded in the corner until my sister comes to find me, armed with another glass of champagne. She’s right, champagne seems like a good idea right about now.

“Ugh,” Kath whispers to me. “I’m used to being the ‘untalented one’ at Sam’s events, but usually people are a bit friendlier than this.”

“Hey, if anyone’s the untalented one here, it’s me. You’re at least going out with the famous guy. I’m just the person working out how many canapés I can snag without the waiters thinking I’m weird.”

“Five,” Kath says. “I’ve counted. After four they start making eye contact with each other. At five they start avoiding you.”

“Good to know.”

“On the plus side, expensive champagne doesn’t give you a hangover. Medical fact.”

“Can’t argue with medicine.” I raise my glass. “To the dregs of the guest list.”

“The dregs.” She clinks it, and we drink.

Chapter 11

Claire

The food is exquisite. But I’ve only eaten approximately four bites of it. The rest of the time I’ve been performing. An attentive laugh at the right moment, a careful redirection when Freddie starts talking over Sophia again. I watch Mum’s eyeline, aware of the fact that she winced when Tom used the fish knife for the wrong course.