Must Be Love by Cathy Woodman

the kitchen – Alex and I had cheese on toast with ketchup with the children.
    The kitchen is vast like the other rooms in the house – vast and primitive, with an Aga, two butler’s sinks, an old fireplace, big enough to roast one of Alex’s bovine patients whole, and an antiquated fridge and freezer that don’t match. The waitresses who were serving the drinks and nibbles have retreated here, apparently to finish up rather than clear up. One of them is Shannon, and she isn’t so quiet and shy among friends. She’s in black, of course, and standing on the kitchen table with two others, casting off her white pinny and draining a bottle of champagne at the same time. Vampire, activist and binge drinker. Emma and I have chosen well! I only hope she recovers from her hangover before she starts work at Otter House in a couple of days’ time.
    On my way back along the gloomy corridor that links the hallway to the of the house, I hear voices. I hesitate, staggering back into the spiky shadow of a set of antlers mounted on the wall and draped with streamers. I look towards the light, where Delphi in the lilac dress is talking to Sophia and Old Fox-Gifford, their backs to me.
    ‘Alexander insisted on inviting her,’ Sophia says.
    ‘You know what he’s like,’ says Delphi. ‘He’s always so generous.’
    ‘I don’t know where he gets it from,’ Sophia says, ‘not from his father, that’s for sure.’
    ‘Are you taking my name in vain?’ Old Fox-Gifford cuts in.
    ‘We’re talking about Madge,’ says Sophia.
    ‘One of the mad cows from Otter House,’ says Old Fox-Gifford. ‘Her name’s Maz, which makes her sound like a woman trying to be a man to me.’
    I’d like to show myself, to contradict them, but my legs are a little unsteady after consuming rather more Buck’s Fizz than I intended and on an empty stomach. I am neither mad nor a man.
    ‘I can see the attraction, but her family connections–’ says Old Fox-Gifford.
    ‘We don’t know her family,’ Sophia cuts in. ‘We haven’t met the parents.’
    ‘We don’t know that she has any, and if she has, they wouldn’t be our type. It’s no use looking them up in Debrett’s .’ Delphi titters as Old Fox-Gifford goes on, ‘She’s a Londoner, born in the shadow of Battersea power station and a stone’s throw from the dogs’ home. Alexander thinks he’s going to teach her to ride, but she’s always got some excuse. It’s too cold, too wet, too muddy.’
    ‘What a shame,’ says Delphi. ‘I’d ride out with him anytime.’
    There’s an edge to her flirtatious tone that makes me realise she’s serious, and I make a mental note to watch out for Delphi Letherington in future.
    ‘Well, if it’s any comfort, Delphi, it won’t last,’ says Sophia. ‘He’ll soon see she’s completely unsuitable.’
    ‘I have no doubt you’ll make absolutely certain of that, Sophia,’ says Old Fox-Gifford.
    ‘He’s besotted by her looks, that winning smile of hers and her city ways, but once he’s taken her out and about in society a few more times, he’ll realise she has no social graces,’ Sophia insists.
    ‘According to Alexander she was dragged up on some council estate,’ Old Fox-Gifford says.
    ‘So she’s more ladette than lady. A bit of a chav, in fact.’
    A chav? I doubt that even Sophia realises how hurtful that is. How dare she talk about me like that. I’m not ashamed of my roots. I bite back tears and straighten my spine. I mustn’t let them get to me. It’s the Fox-Giffords who should be ashamed – they are contemptible.
    ‘I’ve had such a wonderful time,’ Delphi says. ‘It’s my favourite night of the year.’
    ‘We’re very glad you could join us,’ says Sophia. ‘It’s lovely to see some of the old set up at the Manor. We have to stick together, those of us who are left. It was such a shame about you and Jake.’
    Sophia reminds me of a lamb I saw at vet school, a stillborn creature with two heads, two faces