Milo Braithwaite snugged the ties on his dressing gown and continued his strutting pace around the living room. Melaine had politely listened with half an ear, thumbing through a magazine, while he went on about the afternoon's council meeting. He made no bones about his displeasure with the new members, and the arrogantly easy way they insinuated themselves without so much as a nod toward a probationary phase.

Melaine was more than familiar with her husband's petty peeves, probably the main reason, aside from his poorly concealed peccadilloes, that led her to seek solace with Cal Amarca.

"Our traditions aren't good enough for the 'new gentry'," he complained. "Oh no, we have to have rock bands and midway attractions to appease their pedestrian tastes."

"I thought you compromised on some kind of motorcade or something," she said with a sigh, wishing he would just quit his high horse, but not wanting to provoke by exhibiting disinterest.

"Yes, well, I'm sure that will even turn into some kind of- of- follies, before it's all decided." He went and stood staring at his reflection in the window, back ramrod straight, hands clasped tightly behind his back. "This Proctor fellow even suggested that we get together socially. Probably wants to hold some ghastly barbeque or something in his newly sodded backyard. Can't you just see it; all these yuppies in baggy shorts and t-shirts, or aprons, promoting some beer or other, clustered about a smoking pot, branding hot dogs and calling one another, 'Dude'?"

"Milo... what a ridiculous exaggeration." He frowned and squared his shoulders again. "So it's true then," she asked, tossing the magazine aside, ignoring his ridiculous posturing. "Nigel's back in town?"

"He is. And Susan, of course, is on his trail like a heat seeking missile."

Brightening suddenly, Melaine got up and did a short circuit of the room. "You know, it might be fun to do something like that again."

"Hmmh? Like what?" He turned to follow her route.

"Like we did the last time... with the play, only different."

"Good Christ, woman! That was a humiliating disaster!" Melaine stopped and cocked her head, looking at him pitifully until he began to blush from her silent reproach. "Well, you weren't in it." He said weakly in his defence.

"No I wasn't. But I was among the sellout audience that wildly approved." She turned away to allow him a moment's respite to consider her comment. "I'm actually intrigued with the idea of a red carpet theme of some sort. I might just give Susan a call and see if there's anything I can do to help." She turned back, clapping her hands and nodding sharply. With a pained expression, Milo watched her strut from the room.

*****

"What were the others like?" Patty McCorkidale moulded the spinning glob of clay into a tall grey column that began to wobble unsteadily before she pressed it back down.

"Most of them seemed okay, a little stuffy maybe, but this Braithwaite guy..."

"The chair."

"Yeah. He's a real piece of work. Thinks he's some kind of English Lord or something." Peter set a fresh pail of water beside his wife and squatted down to watch her work.

"Are there many women on the council?"

"A couple, plus the recording secretary." He ducked back a bit as she splashed some water on the spinning mould.

"What are they like?"

Peter gave her a curious glance. "Is something wrong?"

"No," she said quickly, "I just wondered..." Her hands moved confidently over the wet clay, drawing it up into a tall column.

"Patty, I think I know when something is bothering you."

She looked at him and shrugged, knocking the new shape down and arresting the spin of the modelling stand. He waited in silence as she rinsed her hands in the pail of water and wiped them on an old towel. "I thought it might be different when we moved here. That there would be people- someone I could talk to, you know, someone I could get to know... a friend to do things with."

Peter looked surprised and leaned back on his hands. "What about Felicity? She's a friend, isn't she?"

Her mouth compressed in a frown. "She's nice enough I suppose, but she makes me feel uneasy. She and Gavin both seem a little- a little... different."

"Hey, Pet. C'mon now." He crawled around the stand to her side, hugging her tightly. "I know Gavin certainly seems a little out there sometimes, but he's a nice guy. Really. I'm sure if you give her a chance, his wife would become a friend." He swallowed his suggestion in a hard lump.

Patty folded her hands and sat still, looking down. "I need to meet someone who- who is as- as... inexperienced as me." She said, softly. Peter rested a hand on her arm and stared at her with a touch of guilt.

Patty was the only child in a strict, religious family. Her father worked as a chemist in a pharmaceutical laboratory, while her mother sewed for a local woman's guild, setting aside her project at precisely the same time every day to prepare for her husband's return, and an evening of bible reading that continued until bedtime.

Although raised with her parent's pious teachings, Patty somehow remained unaffected, and when at college, she enrolled in a sculpting class, which gave her an eye-opening view of the world, through art. It was while on a sketching excursion with her class, that Peter spotted the shy, handsome girl, rendering a drawing of a park bench, and stopped to watch, introducing himself, and with effort, convincing her to meet for coffee later.

The meetings became more frequent, and in time, a romance blossomed, leading to her first exposure of real passion, and eventually an elopement. Patty's parents wiped her from their minds and lives from that point on.

He ducked his head to look at her face. "Okay, look. How about this. There's a special committee being set up to organize this anniversary thing. If you want, I'll introduce you to Susan, she's the head of it; maybe you could give her a hand. She's a Chinese or Asian, or whatever. She seems very pleasant, what do you think?"

Scouring bits of clay from her nails, Patty canted her head in thought. "Yeah. I think I'd like to do something like that. Do you mind?"

"Why the hell would I mind?" He said, squeezing her shoulders and calculating the potential benefit. "Tell you what. I'll call her right now."