Love and Robotics by Rachael Eyre Page B

suit with a sky blue shirt. There were shoes as well - two tone, his size.
    It was only when Josh had taken the wrong turning twice, ending up by the same stuffed swordfish, he realised he had no idea where the Function Room was. His sense of direction fogged at Chimera.
    “Has my wicked niece left you in the lurch?”
    Alfred leant over the balcony on the landing above. Josh had never seen him in dress clothes. They were a few years out of date, perhaps, but still stately. He came downstairs gradually, obviously uncomfortable.
    “Thanks for the -”
    “Don’t mention it. I auctioned off this vase I’ve been trying to break for years.”
    They trailed downstairs, Alfred demonstrating his slapstick attempts to wreck the vase. Josh felt affectionate exasperation. Why did Alfred, normally so talkative, shy away from this sort of thing?  Just now, when Josh had said he looked “sumptuous”, he’d frozen.
    “Don’t wander off!” A hand on his elbow. “This way.”
    Nanny had done them proud. On ordinary days the Function Room’s main features were a swoop of velvet curtains and gilded mirrors. Not only was the grand piano topped by a buffet, she’d set the chandelier revolving so lights shimmered across the walls. A musicbox flipped disks as they watched.
    “They always have dancin’ at these dos.” Nanny popped out from behind the chocolate fountain. “Thought we should teach you.”
    “Dancing?” Josh exclaimed.
    “It’s not that bad.” Gwyn ladled out servings of punch. ‘Dress’ in her case was a burgundy suit. “What’s a good track for a beginner?”
    “ Epiphany , I think.” Nanny padded to the musicbox. She wore her black bombazine. “You can’t beat an oldie!”
    The querulous note of a clarinet, followed by a dreamy, out of focus band. She stuck out a stubby mitt. “May I have this dance, Alfie?”
    They bowed. He passed her a yellow rose from a nearby vase and she crammed it into her cleavage. As the music swelled they started to shuffle.
    “You dancing?” Gwyn mumbled.
    “If you’re asking.”
    “Then you’re dancing.”
    “I haven’t done this before -”
    “I’ll lead.”
    It was the first time she’d smiled at him. She was pretty under all the surliness. She held out her hand, took his, and brought him close to her chest. “Copy what I do.”
    He mimicked the lines of her arms, the sidesteps of her shoes. She executed a neat twirl, talked him through it. “See? Easy as pie.”
    Her hands were on his waist, steering him round. It felt ticklish; he couldn’t help laughing. The song drew a last wistful sigh. Gwyn opened her arms and let him drop into them. As her hands curved around his back, she bent towards him.
    A sound like cloth tearing. The disk was wrenched off its circuit.
    “That will do.”Alfred’s mouth twitched. “Let’s get started on the buffet.”
     
    Josh wandered the grounds with a plate of cheeses. He had a nagging feeling he was at fault. He went to sit beneath a tree, remembered the suit and chose a bench instead.
    He always knew when somebody was behind him. They’d tested him: blackouts, blindfolds, switching off his hearing. Even unfamiliar cologne didn’t mask the sense impression.
    “Hello, Alfred.”
    “Hello, lad.” A musical lilt - had he been drinking? Turning, he saw that no, he was only upset.
    They spoke at once. “I’m sorry.” Awkward laugh, then they did it again. “You first.”
    “No, you.”
    “Don’t be stubborn, Josh.”
    “You’re one to talk. Gwyn’s a good girl.”
    Undeniable pride. “She is. You couldn’t mistake her for anything but a Wilding.”
    “She’s not like other girls.”
    A quick, disquieted look. “No. She’s had a tough life. As her guardian -”
    Josh caught something in Alfred’s tone. “Are you warning me?”
    “I suppose I am.”
    “You’ve nothing to worry about.”
    “You’re not completely repulsive and her head’s easily turned. I hope you understand.”
    Josh didn’t. Yes,