Page 14 of Be Less Panda

Olivia smiled seductively at the man who now had his arm around her waist. ‘Nancy, meet Pierre.’

Judging by the wrinkles around his eyes and the sprinkling of grey hair at his temples, he was nearer 40 than 30. But he sported an impressive tan and stubble, and he looked quite fit. She could see why Olivia might find him attractive.

‘Pleased to meet you,’ he said, though the look in his eyes gave Nancy the impression that he wasn’t pleased at all. ‘I need to whisk Olivia away for a while. We have a lot of catching up to do.’

Olivia looked apologetically at Nancy but didn’t resist as Pierre quickly led her across the living room and onto the balcony, shutting the door behind them.

‘Pierre doesn’t like to overdo the charm,’ Christa said. ‘Come on. I’ll introduce you to everyone else, but first, you need a drink.’

Christa led Nancy past a few other guests in the spacious living room and into a large, modern kitchen. One of the work surfaces was covered in an assortment of bottles of various shapes and sizes.

‘We bought gin with us, but Olivia’s got it with her,’ Nancy said apologetically.

‘Don’t worry,’ Christa said. ‘As you can see, we have plenty. We’re starting with mojitos. Can I tempt you with one?’

‘That would be lovely.’ Nancy had no idea what a mojito was, but she was willing to give it a try. Christa picked up a jug of clear liquid and poured it over a large tumbler full of ice. She stirred it vigorously with a plastic stick, added a sprig of fresh mint and a straw, then handed it to Nancy.

Nancy eagerly sucked in a mouthful. It was confusing. It tasted of rum, but the rum she was used to at home was deep brown.

‘Is there a problem?’ Christa asked.

‘No. It’s delicious. I was just trying to work out what was in it.’

Christa reeled off the list of ingredients, including white rum. Who knew you could get that? Nancy had a feeling she was going to learn a lot this evening.

Nancy spent the first half an hour or so having an animated conversation about sailing and surfing with three attractiveCalifornians who lived in the flat upstairs until Christa persuaded them to mingle with the rest of the guests.

Ingrid made an appearance an hour later, apologising for being late to her own party, which, judging by the ribbing she got from the other guests, was a regular occurrence. She was accompanied by a short, cheery, dark-haired man, who she introduced as her boyfriend, Dieter.

Olivia was monopolised by Pierre, who, as far as Nancy could tell, barely took his hands or lips off her all evening.

Christa, meanwhile, flitted from group to group, topping up glasses and snacks or offering fresh cocktails with recipes that seemed to get more complicated as the night wore on.

At one point, Nancy found herself stuck with an earnest PhD student who had just returned from Greece and was eager to share far too much detail about how the marble had been carved out of the rock above Athens.

Christa swooped in on a rescue mission. ‘Georges, Elise is dying to hear about your latest finds,’ she said, nodding towards an unsuspecting woman relaxing with a cigarette on the balcony.

‘Thank you so much,’ Nancy said when Georges was out of hearing distance.

‘My pleasure. You stay there. I’ll be back with something you’re going to adore.’

A couple of minutes later, she returned with an enormous martini glass full to the brim with bright blue liquid. A cocktail umbrella balanced precariously on the edge of the glass, with a maraschino cherry stopping it from falling in.

Nancy smiled. Olivia had been right. Nancy did like Christa and Ingrid. She’d also been right about their generosity with drinks. This was Nancy’s fifth or possibly sixth cocktail. It was getting harder to keep count.

‘I really shouldn’t,’ Nancy said, surprised by how much she was slurring now. She prided herself on being able tohandle her drink, but Christa and Ingrid must have been more generous with their measures than she thought. She took a sip. It was delicious - orangey with only a hint of alcohol. Surely something so sweet wouldn’t do any harm.

Olivia looked horrified as she swam into Nancy’s blurry vision. ‘Good god. You knocked that back in one.’

‘Did I?’ Nancy looked at the glass in her hand. How had it suddenly become empty?

‘This isn’t some of your homegrown Devon scrumpy,’ Olivia whispered in her ear. ‘There are probably at least three shots of vodka in that.’

‘I’ll have you know that scrumpy can be quite potent,’ Nancy said, feeling affronted on behalf of West Country cider makers.

‘There’s potent, and there’s potentially blinding. And Christa’s cocktails fall into the latter category. I should’ve warned you. I’m sorry I was so busy with Pierre. I’m obviously too late now.’ Olivia stood with her hands on her hips, looking thoughtful. Or at least Nancy thought she did. It was becoming very difficult to focus.

‘I’m perfectly fine!’ Nancy tried desperately to concentrate on Olivia’s face. ‘I’ll just sit still for a few moments, and all will be well.’ She closed her eyes.

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