out one line in three.
The audience seemed to fare better, following the performance well enough to cheer, laugh and heckle in equal measure. It was a novel experience for Cat, and in spite of her discomfort, she found herself caught up in the atmosphere, clapping and laughing regardless of whether she’d got a particular joke.
Eventually the show came to an end, with whoops and cheers signalling that it had been more of a success than not. The one good thing about being so far back was that they were able to make a relatively quick getaway. It was almost dizzying to emerge into the relative airiness of the foyer after the closeness of the event. ‘The bar,’ Susie said, immediately dragging her away from the direction of the street and deeper into the bowels of the building. ‘I’m gagging for a drink.’
The bar was no less crowded. People stood three deep waiting to be served. Susie groaned and glanced at her watch. ‘Andrew will be here any minute; he can do the donkey work for us. Come on, let’s find a seat, my feet are killing me.’ Cat wasn’t surprised. Even a teenager would have had more sense than to go out for the evening in the ridiculous shoes Susie had bought that morning.
Finding a seat didn’t seem a likely prospect to Cat, but Susie was undaunted by the crowds. She spied a table occupied by a group of young people who were clearly together, bunched around wine bottles and glasses. Susie marched straight up to the table and plonked herself on the end of the banquette. ‘Squeeze up, darlings,’ she said, waving her hands in a shooing motion.
Despite their anarchic appearance, this was evidently a group of nicely brought-up students. They obediently squashed closer together, creating just enough space for Susie and a sliver of seat for Cat. But politeness didn’t extend to including the pair in their conversation. Cat felt invisible and unattractive. All at once it dawned on her that she had never been in a crowded place where she didn’t know most of the other people present. It was simultaneously thrilling and unnerving. The potential for romance or danger was all around her; it was time to embrace the unfamiliar, not shrink from it.
She turned to share her insight with Susie, who was scouring the room with a pout on her face. ‘Unbelievable. I emailed and Facebooked at least a dozen of my best friends to say we’d be here tonight and there’s not a single one of them to be seen. I wanted you to meet the Elliots, they’ve got a son around your age. And the Wintersons, their twin girls must be off to university at the end of the summer. But no. Not a soul in sight.’
Cat felt the bubble of excitement burst within her, pricked by Susie’s discontent. But before she could say anything, Mr Allen appeared, pushing his way through the press of bodies. ‘This is impossible,’ he said, breathing a cloud of whisky fumes over them both. ‘There’s no pleasure in this. Let’s just walk home and have a drink there.’
‘But we’ll miss seeing everybody,’ Susie complained.
‘You can’t see anybody in this mob, never mind have a conversation. We’ll catch up with people soon enough. This is no introduction to Edinburgh life for poor Cat. Look at the girl, she’s practically melting in here.’
Cat was sure it had not been his intention, but Mr Allen’s words only served to make her feel more unappealing and unsophisticated. Flushed, she stood up and stepped aside to free Susie from the banquette. As she set off in the wake of the Allens, one of the young men at the table put a hand on her wrist. She startled away from him and he winked at her. ‘Cool top,’ he said.
She took off after Susie before she lost sight of her flamboyant peasant dress, even more hot and bothered than before. But as they emerged into the chill of the evening, she realised that brief final contact had made the entire evening worthwhile. Edinburgh really was a city of infinite promise.
Cat was surprised by how quickly her Edinburgh days fell into a routine. In the morning after a late breakfast, she and Susie used the excuse of art to get out of the flat and explore. It was true that they saw many paintings, sculptures and obscure installations, but more than that, they saw the city, from the regimented grid of streets of the Georgian New Town to the multi-layered maze of vennels and closes that formed the old town where Burke and Hare had plied their trade. Cat had googled the dark side of Edinburgh history, and it was she rather than Susie who enlivened their prowls through the city with tales of body-snatchers and Janus-faced citizens who held their sinister secrets behind the mask of respectability. On more than one occasion, Susie put her hands over her ears and laughed nervously, ‘Stop, Cat, you’re scaring me.’ And that was before she even touched on the vampire lore she’d picked up on the Internet. Cat was in her element, seeing potential for terror and adventure around every twist and turn of the narrow streets.
Of course, neither art nor sightseeing was sufficient to hold Susie’s attention for long. Somehow, their routes around the city centre invariably washed them up against some fascinating shop window like flotsam on the shore at Cramond. Cat understood it was the price she had to pay for the delight of exploring so exotic a city. That and Susie’s constant complaint that she couldn’t understand why she wasn’t bumping into anyone they knew from their London days.
On the fifth day, they returned footsore to the flat to find Mr Allen laying the table with a selection of cheeses, meats and vegetable delicacies, several of which Cat was depressingly unable to identify. ‘I was passing Valvona and Crolla on my way back from a rather promising show based on the songs of Chris de Burgh, and I thought I would treat us to lunch,’ was his greeting. He distributed plates and cutlery then opened a bottle of pale white wine with a corkscrew that had the look of something that had won a design award. ‘Oh, and this came by hand while we were out.’ He nodded at a thick piece of card tucked into the flap of the sort of heavy white envelope that signals senders with a good opinion of themselves.
Curious, Susie picked it up and flipped the card over. ‘Oh, Andrew, the Highland Ball! I’ve always wanted to go. It’s been one of my dreams for as long as I can remember.’
He looked mildly surprised. ‘You never said. They invite me every year. But I’m generally here on my own so I’ve given it a miss.’
‘We are going to go, though? Aren’t we?’ Susie reminded Cat of her younger sister Emily faced with the prospect of the latest Pixar animation. She’d been like that once, but she preferred to treat her enthusiasms in a more mature way these days. Even her mother would have struggled to spot just how excited she’d been by the latest Twilight movie, for example. ‘Oh, Andrew, please say we’re going.’ She turned to Cat. ‘The Highland Ball is the social event of the Edinburgh season. Absolutely A-list, Cat. The perfect place for you to find a real catch.’
Cat felt the tide of colour rising from her chest up her neck to her cheeks. Mr Allen shook his head and gave his wife an indulgent smile as he sat down at the table. ‘Leave Cat alone. Not everyone goes to the Highland Ball to find a man, Susie. But if it matters to you that much, we’ll go. And we can take Cat.’ He chuckled. ‘The Highland Ball. That’ll be an experience for you. All those men in kilts. You do know how to do Scottish country dancing?’
Susie subsided into a chair. ‘Don’t be silly, Andrew, where would Cat have learned Scottish country dancing? We’ll have to get her some lessons.’
‘Robbie Alexander’s wife runs a class specifically geared to the Highland Ball,’ he said. ‘She told me about it a couple of years ago. Why don’t you give her a ring and see if she can fit Cat in?’
And so that afternoon, Cat found herself on a bus to Morningside, where Fiona Alexander had
