Confessions of a Reluctant Recessionista

at every party I go to, do I?’ she asked crossly. Finally, she waslooking at me. Actually, she was looking me up and down. ‘That dress isn’t so bad,’ she said, giving me a half-smile. She put down her drink. ‘I’m just going to go and talk to Sophie. I’ll catch up with you later.’
    Well, that was weird. She was cold, distracted, unfriendly and – I sniffed her glass – she was drinking water. She’d driven up here with Sophie. She’d been sitting with Sophie during the service. And now she needed to talk to Sophie again? Feeling confused and upset, I grabbed a second glass of champagne and knocked it back in one. A gaggle of Hamilton Churchill women walked past, eyeing me with disdain. Oh, God. I couldn’t just cower in the corner getting pissed. I had to get out there and mingle.
    For about a half hour or so, I did quite well. I forced myself to go over and make small talk with Nicholas, who was surprisingly friendly to me.
    ‘We miss you in the office, Cassie. Christa’s terribly efficient but she doesn’t anticipate my needs in quite the way you did,’ he said, giving my arm a squeeze. I wondered whether he was drunk. Next up were Christa and Angela, the two who had shunned me in the street after the recent dog-walking debacle. They smiled at me stiffly.
    ‘How are you, Cassie?’ Christa asked. ‘It’s such a terribly difficult market out there at the moment, isn’t it? Have you managed to find any work?’
    ‘Oh, you know, this and that,’ I said vaguely. She smiled sympathetically. I resisted the urge to punch her in the face. ‘Actually, I’m thinking of taking sometime off,’ I lied. ‘Going travelling. Vietnam, maybe, or South America. London’s so grey this time of year, isn’t it? It’s just so dull.’
    ‘Sounds expensive. I didn’t know you were independently wealthy, Cassie,’ Angela smirked. I noticed that she had a piece of toilet paper stuck to the bottom of her shoe. That cheered me up.
    ‘There’s a lot about me you don’t know, Angie. In fact, I’m sure there’s a lot you don’t know about a lot of things,’ I said with a laugh. They stared at me, incredulous. I realised that I was feeling quite drunk. And that I was starting to enjoy myself. I moved on through the crowd, chatting amiably to those ex-colleagues who acknowledged my existence, and even managing to exchange a few words with the bride.
    I was in the middle of telling Emily how lovely she looked when we were interrupted by a tall, dark-haired woman wearing what looked to me like Prada with a pair of Louboutins exactly like mine.
    ‘Hi, babe,’ the woman said, giving Emily a kiss on the cheek. ‘Don’t you look fabulous?’ She turned to me and smiled. ‘I don’t think we’ve met. I’m Tania.’ She held out a perfectly manicured hand. ‘But then you probably knew that, didn’t you?’
    I didn’t know what to do. I just stood there, smiling stupidly at her, desperately trying to think of something cutting or clever or at the very least vaguely amusing to say. Nothing came to me.
    ‘You’re walking dogs now, I hear?’ she said. How the fuck did she know that? ‘What’s that like?’
    ‘It’s … uh …’
    ‘That good, huh? Still, you obviously enjoy walking. Because you walked here, didn’t you? I think we passed you on the way.’
    This could not get worse. It just could not get worse. From nowhere, clutching two glasses of champagne, Dan appeared at her side. It had just got worse. He, at least, had the good grace to look ill at ease as he handed her a drink.
    ‘Hello, Cassie,’ he mumbled, looking at his shoes. ‘You having a good time?’
    He shifted awkwardly from one foot to another, looking excruciatingly uncomfortable.
    I didn’t say a word. Eventually, he looked up at me.
    ‘Are you all right, Cassie?’ he asked. He looked apologetic.
    Tania slipped her hand into his.
    ‘Come, darling,’ she said, pulling him away from me. ‘Let’s go find someone fun to talk to.’
    My champagne buzz well and truly killed, I retreated once more to the loo. Hiding in the cubicle, I wondered how in God’s name he had fallen for her. How could he have chosen to be with someone so cruel? It was almost enough to make me feel sorry for him. It wasn’t as though she had anything to fear from me: she was the one in the expensive dress and the great shoes. She was the one who had her man. What would make her want to stick the knife into another woman like that? The doors