‘Oh, I couldn’t sit in the front row—’ Glenda began, on automatic, but thesherry cut in with, ‘Shut up, stop thinking like your mother, will you, and goand sit down in the damn front row.’

One of the ever-present young ladies chose this exact moment to take Glenda bythe hand and lead her slightly unsteady feet through the settling chaos, outthrough the door and back into fairyland. There was indeed a seat waiting forher.

Fortunately, although in the front row it was off to one side. She would havedied of shame had it been right in the middle. She clutched her handbag in bothhands and risked a look along the row. It was packed. It wasn’t exclusivelydwarf, either; there were a number of human ladies, smartly dressed, a littleon the skinny side (in her opinion), almost offensively at ease and alltalking.

Another sherry mystically appeared in her hand and, as the noise stopped withrat-trap sharpness, Madame Sharn came out through the curtain and began toaddress the crowded hall. Glenda thought, I wish I’d worn a better coat… Atwhich point the sherry tucked her up and put her to bed.

Glenda only started to think properly again some time later, when she was hiton the head by a bunch of flowers. They struck her just over the ear and asexpensive petals rained around her she looked up at the beaming, radiant faceof Juliet, at the very edge of the catwalk, halfway through the motions ofshouting ‘Duck!’

… And there were more flowers flying and people standing and cheering, andmusic, and in general the feeling of being under a waterfall with no water butinexhaustible torrents of sound and light.

Out of it all Juliet exploded, throwing herself at Glenda and flinging her armsaround her neck.

‘She wants me to do it again!’ she panted. ‘She says I could go to Quirm andGenua, even! She says she’ll pay me more if I don’t work for no one else andthe world is an oyster. I never knew that.’

‘But you’ve already got a steady job in the kitchen… ’ said Glenda, onlythree-quarters of her way into consciousness. Later, more often than she liked,she remembered saying those words while the applause thundered all around them.

There was a gentle pressure on her shoulder, and here was one of theinterchangeable young women with a tray. ‘Madame sends her compliments, miss,and would like to invite you and Miss Juliet to join her in her privateboudoir.’

‘That’s nice of her, but I think we should be getting—A boudoir, you say?’

‘Oh yes. And would you like another drink? It’s a celebration, after all.’

Glenda looked around at the chattering, laughing and, above all, drinkingcrowd. The place felt like an oven.

‘All right, but not that sherry, thank you all the same. Have you got somethingvery cold and fizzy?’

‘Why, yes, miss. Lots.’ The girl produced a large bottle and expertly filled atall fluted glass with, apparently, bubbles. When Glenda drank it, the bubblesfilled her, too.

‘Mm, quite nice,’ she ventured. ‘A bit like lemonade grown up.’

‘That’s how Madame drinks it, certainly.’

‘Er, this boudoir,’ Glenda tried, following the girl rather unsteadily. ‘Howbig is it?’

‘Oh, pretty large, I think. There must be about forty people in there already.’

‘Really? That’s a big boudoir.’ Well, thank goodness, Glenda thought. That atleast is sorted out. They really ought to put proper explanations in thesenovels.

She had never been sure, given that she had no idea what sort of thing aboudoir was, what sort of thing you would find in it when you did. She foundthat it contained people, heat and flowers-not flowers in bunches, but inpillars and towering stacks, filling most of the air with clouds of stickyperfume while the people below filled the rest of it with words, tightlypacked. No one could possibly hear what they were saying, Glenda told herself,but perhaps that wasn’t important. Perhaps what was important was being thereto be seen to say it.

The crowd parted, and she saw Juliet, still in the glittering outfit, still inthe beard… being there. Salamanders were flashing on and off, which meantpeople with iconographs, didn’t it? The trashy papers were full of peopleglittering for the picture. She had no time for them. What made it worse wasthat her disapproval mattered not a fig to anyone. The people glittered anyway.And here was Juliet, glittering most of all.

‘I think I could do with a little fresh air,’ she mumbled.

Her guide led her gently to an unobtrusive doorway. ‘Restrooms through here,ma’am.’ And they were–except that the long, carefully lit room was like somekind of fairy tale, all velvet and drapes. Fifteen surprised visions of Glendastared at her from as many mirrors. It was overpowering enough to make her sitdown in a very expensive bendy-legged chair that turned out to be very restful,too…

When she jerked awake, she staggered out, got lost in a dark world of smellypassages choked with packing cases and finally blundered into a very large roomindeed. It was more like a cavern; at the far end were a pair of double doors,probably ashamed to let in a grey light which did not so much illuminate asaccuse. Another chaos of empty clothes racks and packing cases was scatteredaround the floor. In one place, water had dripped from the roof, and a puddlehad formed on the stone, soaking some cardboard.

‘There they are, in there with their glitter and their finery, and it’s allmuck and rubbish round the back, right, dear?’ said a voice in the dark. ‘Youlook like a lady who can spot a metaphor when she stares it in the face.’

‘Something like that,’ muttered Glenda. ‘Who’s doing the asking?’

An orange light glowed and faded in the gloom. Someone was smoking a cigarettein the shadows.

‘It’s the same all over, love. If there was an award for the arse end ofthings, there’d be a real bloody squabble for first place. I’ve seen a fewpalaces in my time and they’re all the same: turrets and banners in the front,maids’ bedrooms and water pipes round the back. Fancy a top-up? Can’t bewalking around here with an empty glass, you’ll stand out.’

The cooler air was making her feel better. She still had a glass in her hand.‘What is this stuff?’

‘Well, if this was any other party it’d probably be the cheapest fizzing wineyou could strain through a sock, but Madame won’t stint. It’s the real stuff.Champagne.’

‘What? I thought only nobby people drank that!’

‘No, just people with money, love. Sometimes it’s the same thing.’

She looked closer, and gasped. ‘What? Are you Pepe?’

‘That’s me, love.’

‘But you’re not all… all… ’ She waved her hands frantically.

‘Off duty, love. Don’t have to worry about… ’ He waved his hands equallyfrantically. ‘I’ve got a bottle here of our very own. Care to join me?’

‘Well, I ought to be getting back in there—’

‘Why? To fuss around her like an old hen? Leave her be, love. She’s a duckwho’s just found water.’

Pepe looked taller in this gloom. Maybe it was the language and the lack offlapping. And, of course, anyone next to Madame Sharn would look small. He waswillowy, though, like someone made of sinews.

‘But anything could happen to her!’

Pepe’s grin gleamed. ‘Yes! But probably won’t. My word, she sold micromail forus, and no mistake. Told Madame I had a good feeling. She’s got a great careerin front of her.’

‘No, she’s got a good, steady job in the Night Kitchen, with me,’ said Glenda.‘It might not be big money, but it’ll turn up every week. On the nail, and shewon’t lose it if someone prettier comes along.’

‘Dolly Sisters, right? Sounds like the Botney Street area,’ said Pepe. ‘I’msure of it. Not too bad, as I recall. I didn’t get beaten up much down there,but at the end of the day they’re all crab buckets.’

Glenda was taken aback. She’d expected anger or condescension, not this sharplittle grin.