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Charlie considered the six pillars ahead, each dressed in fairy lights that wound from bottom to top. The hall’s entrance had been softened by swirls of chiffon. In the daylight, they would have been garish and tacky, but lit by a thousand soft bulbs the size of ladybirds, they looked like a dream.

She pulled up the front of her dress, every step pinching her toes, and walked to the main doors, where hollow laughter spilled out. With one final check of her neckline, she tilted her chin, pressed her lips, and marched in.

“Charlotte, you look wonderful tonight.” Edward Foster, KC, put his arm around her waist and claimed her. He reeked of stale alcohol and sweat.

“Mr Foster, thank you for the kind invitation,” she said.

“Not at all. You deserve a place at the table. It’ll be yours soon, after all.” He winked.

Charlie swallowed her own saliva and plucked a glass of champagne from a passing tray. As they were led to the table, Charlie realised that she would be the only woman present. She became more conscious of her dress clinging at her waist and the cold air at her bare chest. She found herself sandwiched between the head of litigation and a retired professor.

“Of course, we attract cheap young graduates and squeeze them for every billable hour. We’re off to see the Vice Chancellor next week, aren’t we, Bob? Get our next batch lined up.” The professor was in full swing. He eyed Charlie from the side and lifted his glass to acknowledge her presence.

“Quite right, Maurice. Get them while they’re yet to ripen,” Bob said.

He had the emotional intelligence of a house brick. Charlie blinked.Disgusting.

“They don’t know what work-life balance is at that age. Eh, Charlotte, remember those days?” Bob asked.

She forced a laugh and gripped her champagne flute. She was so far down the chain, late nights and early starts were still very much her thing. “Sadly, Bob, I’m yet to achieve the Friday afternoon golf swing.”Please laugh.

The men frowned and turned away, while a young waitress served a prawn mousse. Charlie became aware of someone on the stage, recognising him from TV re-runs. Underneath his warm-up act, there was a rumble of conversation, clanking of cutlery, and the odd shriek of laughter. It was a collection of old professionals with more money than sense, flirting over lukewarm food and bad shiraz.

Over the tail end of the braised beef, Charlie would’ve eaten her own foot just to get away.

“Miss Charlotte Mason, how wonderful to see you again.”

Her heart bounced a little at the familiar voice. She turned to see Jack at her shoulder, grinning. The men flanking her took no notice when she was swept off by an unfamiliar man in a dinner suit. He demanded her attention and looked part-client, part-lover.

“Jack, what are you doing here?” She guided him to a botanical plant house in the centre of the venue.

“The corporates bought us a table as a reward for hitting sales targets or some shit. I don’t know. I just organised the taxis. Anyway, you look completely different. What are you doing in that dress? I didn’t even know you owned one.”

“Don’t. I hate these things. But I have to look the part.” She looked down at her black heels and didn’t recognise her own feet.

“Do you?” Jack challenged. “That’s not like you, Charlie.”

“Nothing is like me at the moment, Jack.” She faltered and didn’t want to say more but couldn’t stop herself. “I’m a wreck. Have you heard from her?”

“Yes. She’s in Paris. She’s trying to find herself and failing miserably—because she left half of herself here.”

Charlie’s heart pounded, and she held her breath. “What do you mean? Elda left a lot behind when she ran off.”

“She left you behind, Charlie. You know that. She’s a dick, and she’s trying to fill a gap in her life, somehow not realising that she left you here.” He touched her hand. “I think you should go and get her back.”

Charlie tried to push back the tears with a wipe of her hand. “She doesn’t want me. She made that clear. We didn’t just break up like normal people. She went so far away.”

Jack looked up at the ceiling and sighed. “Charlie, she wasn’t running away from you. Or even sad, old Linda. She was running away from herself and dealing with shit that she still can’t handle. But Elda needs you, and me, for that matter. She doesn’t know how bloody lucky she is.” He laughed and nudged Charlie gently in the ribs. “Go and get her.”

“I can’t go back in there. Those men are so awful.” Charlie looked past him at the vast room of round white tablecloths. She laughed through her tears.

“Let’s go back to mine and getBeacheson.” He grabbed her hand, and Charlie followed him through the heavy double doors.

Outside in the cool air, she held Jack’s sleeve and came to a halt. “Whereexactlyis she, Jack?”

“I have the address at home. Let’s go.”

Her head was swimming, but she knew one thing. Elda needed her, and she’d do anything to bring her home.