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There was sparkingl cider, sort of a hint that in future years it might be champagne, though most of the couples I knew in the social sex scene didn't really drink. The idea was to not dull the senses.The DJ played light classical music We talked, mosty about school, but also about who was (surprisingly) with whom, and so on. People also talked between tables, about this, that, and all of the other things that might be important. But then the eating was done (except for the desserts) and it was time for ythe foirst dance.Traditionally dancing is how a couple gets to know each other's bodies without getting their clothes off. We didn't have that problem, but dancing was fun in and of its own right. There's a pleasure in doing something together.The DJ didn't do just slow dances, or fast ones. He knew how to mix things up, and we got into a fine rhythm of dancing, gossiping, and just having fun. It was quite a while before things began to come off.The saying is that no party really. ‘You know Dad, if it wasn’t for your face it’s as if you were never away.’ I appreciated that. And it was Jan, who, as he got out of the car told me how great it was to have me back. ‘I just wish…’ he said and stopped. ‘What?’ I asked. ‘Nothing.’ He said as he turned away, but I thought I knew what the ‘nothing’ was and I couldn’t see it happening. The lads bounded into Ann’s arms, each outdoing the other in telling her what they’d done, and the various proficiency certificates they’d got. Greta hugged her and would wait until later to confide in her. Ann was wrapped up in welcoming the children back so I begged off staying for tea and went back to the flat, promising to get in touch early the following week. Jenny was not there, but there were signs she had been. The post was neatly placed on the hallway table, apart from that day’s, Saturday. I picked it up. There was one manila envelope I recognised: it was from Keith. I decided not to open it yet. I made a pot of tea, and noted.
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