He saw her surrounded, cornered even, by a gaggle of women. Two of them were part of the coven that he had stumbled upon a few hours earlier in the study, smiling as they greeted his wife and he could see that look on her face. It was that one she tended to adopt dealing with awkward patients.

Peter was some yards away deep in conversation with Daniel and his brother, finding them so much more amiable than the women he had encountered so far and it would be rude to break away. Besides, he thought she knew she probably knew them of old and knew what they could be like.

As soon as they descended on her, Camilla's heart sunk to her shoes; picking the perfect time when neither Isobel nor Peter were at her side. She knew that there would only be one subject and that was her marriage as she had been seen by them, walking carefully down the stairs on Peter's arm, her wedding ring displayed as she clung to his bicep half of out of fear of what she was facing and the other half out of trepidation that she would take them both head first down the stairs if she stepped on the hem of her dress.

She was subjected to a round of "Chummy! Darling, it's been years!" from people she could only describe as acquaintances before the subject quickly fell to her wedding.

"So when was it?" she was asked.

"September 24th", she replied, skin starting to prickle at the over enthusiastic group in front of her, pretending - she felt - to be interested.

"Oh! Autumn weddings are always lovely!" Chummy could hear how false this voice was. She was not entirely convinced if the person before her was one of two sisters she had known from childhood, one of which had almost married one of her brothers. A rush of memories came back to her of so many conversations of this nature in the past when she had been quizzed on her matrimonial status and her stuttering, shy responses.

"So tell us, is it right he's a Rozzer?" She hated the nicknames offered to Police Officers. 'Rozzer' was perhaps one of the more polite ones she had heard and it had at least some historical significance rather than the some of the ones so full of hate she had heard when her husband and his colleagues were mentioned.

"Peter is a Policeman yes" she replied.

"So he has to work for a living?"

"Yes".

"And you are working as a nurse?" How that little piece of gossip had made its way around so quickly was anybody's guess.

"A midwife".

"Still I suppose its essential with his wages. I can't believe Policemen are paid a fortune".

She heard the questions rattle away around her, barely allowing her a moment to respond with little more than a word or two. She stopped listening properly as she watched Peter and Daniel who were now on a circuit of the room, passing the group but only allowing a brief moment of eye contact.

"You know, I always imagine they have rather rough hands".

"Who?"

"The lower classes – from all the manual labour".

"He's a Police Officer, Louie! Hardly a coal miner!"

"I saw him talking to Frankie Halliday before. Rather delicious though". The description of her husband brought her attention back to the group. The less-than-Honourable Louisa Capstick – daughter of one of her mother's more influential friends - was on the prowl. She was normally someone who would never give Chummy the time of day but clearly her husband was unfortunately of interest.

"The policeman or Frankie?"

"Certainly not Frankie. He sends shivers!"

"The rozzer, Meggie darling! Mind you, he does seem to pay you a lot of attention. How do you stand it?"

"How do I stand what?" she asked, quite confused at the question. There was nothing to 'stand'.

"Being pawed all the time", she addressed Chummy. "He clearly has no etiquette whatsoever. Completely indiscreet behaviour if I have ever seen it!"

Camilla couldn't say she had noticed whether or not she was being 'pawed' all the time. She was quite used to the affection and attention he paid her so his arm around her waist or a touch on the hand was perfectly acceptable. She would miss it if he stopped.

"What was he up to?"

"Did you not see when they arrived? Talk about too many hands!"

Chummy tried to remember – he had put out his hand to help her out of the car; put his hand on her back as they walked up the stairs to the House and oh, yes, that hand that guided into the reception room was perhaps, in a world she once inhabited, a little inappropriate but she didn't have the heart to tell him off. She wondered for a moment, if she slipped away whether they would notice.

"What was his name again?"

"I heard it was Peter Noakes".

"And where's he from again? His accent is just so working class!"

"He's from Bow", Chummy finally answered.

"What does his father do?"

"He broke his leg years ago and can't work. His mother is a char", she replied.

"A cleaner?!"

"Yes", she replied, voice becoming terse.

"His mother works?!"

"Yes, she has to. Three jobs actually - to pay the bills". Chummy knew she was about to take on a fourth too even though Peter had tried to talk her out of it.

"But a char darling! Mother's cleaner is a diamond but I certainly would not want to marry her repellent offspring!"

"Camilla, what on earth possessed you?"

She decided to be obtuse. "I don't know what you mean", she replied, leaving a trace of innocence in her voice. She knew perfectly well what 'possessed' her in marrying him but of all people in this world, these three women were not ones she intended to explain herself to.

"Are you serious darling? A rozzer from the East End? You do realise you will be scraping to get by for the rest of your life? I couldn't bare it if I couldn't nip off to Harrods or Fortnums or the South of France at a moment's!" A round of giggles was heard but Camilla had started to drift. She recognised it easily, the sensation she had not felt in earnest for a long time of withdrawing from herself, voices becoming quiet and distanced as her soul almost lifted from her body.

"Its just so common!" she heard, letting the conversation happen around her, barely listening as she tried to scan the room for Peter again, desperate to be brought swiftly back down to earth. "Still it must be quite amusing".

"Amusing? How is lack of money and living right on top of your neighbours amusing?"

"The experience darling. Strike off the old list of seeing how the proletariat live".

"I don't think I could tolerate it. I always imagined the East End to be a hole".

She finally found him, talking to someone she vaguely recognised but thankfully walking in her direction. He had had a change of heart and decided that he would rescue her after all, sliding into the group hearing the insult that was delivered about his birth place.

"The East End is hole my dear. I remember going out to Thurrock to see Halibut's sister and we had to pass through Poplar as a road was closed. Blasted collapsed building as far as I remember. Children everywhere, screaming, shouting, women with rollers in their hair standing out in the street. Terrible!"

He slid into the group next to her, his arm a touch too tight around her waist, to the chorus of 'hellos' that were just a little too sickly sweet. He didn't bother addressing anybody but her.

"I think you promised you would dance with me" he said, as he felt him pull her hand away. She noticed as well, with some devilment, that his East End accent had just got a little thicker for effect. She was expecting the sentence to end in his Dad's favourite greeting for her. "Petal".

She was grateful for the interruption even though she had no plans to set foot on that dance floor.

"Thank you" she whispered and without addressing her companions, who barely noticed, she walked away apart from one comment.

"How rude not even to say 'hello'"

"Well that is the lower classes for you darling. I can't imagine how he speaks to her in private".

She went to walk them in the opposite direction but he stopped her.

"I meant it you know, come on, come and dance with me".

She surveyed the dance floor and the slow music that was playing as she was pulled across the crowd into the couples that were dancing out onto the veranda and gardens. She took a second glance around them, seeing couples all around her; bodies lilting to the gentle music.

"Once".

He smiled at her and she felt a hand slide around her hips as he pulled her closer before he took her hand in his and rested it on his chest.

"Who or what is Halibut?" he asked, going to build up to questions about the real conversation that he had seen taking place.

"A fish", she replied deadpan.

"I gathered that!" he replied, smiling gently twirling themselves so they slipped easily into the group.

"James Hallyburton. I can't say I know its whether a play on his surname or the fact he, well, resembles said halibut".

"Can we go for a walk instead? You know I have three left feet" she carried on offering a pleading face.

"I don't think this is dancing" he said, looking around them. "It looks more like swaying and I think even you and I can manage that".

He could see she was reluctant, watching people seeing if they were looking at her.

"How are you feeling?"

"Detached" she said bluntly. "I am here, but..." she looked skywards. "I am a million miles away too".

She felt his hand slide lower down her hip to be just this side of decent, holding her tighter as physical support if nothing else, seeing how distracted she was. "Peter what are you doing?!"

"There are 3 women behind you who are staring at you. Just giving them reason to!" he joked, wanting desperately to take that look from her eyes.

"Please don't" she whispered desperately trying to take the crack out of her voice as her pleas for a walk had been solely so she could breathe through the tension that had started to build in her body.

"You are going to get me into so much trouble one of these days", she said as his hand crept nominally further up her back.

"Can we go for a walk or upstairs? Please?"

He had seen that look that she wore before and nodded as she felt him take her hand and lead her away.