It was rare that I found myself missing the pomp and ceremony of those evenings, and yet tonight I long for just a moment of that time when I might enter a room and know that heads would turn. Know that every member of my staff would be attentive to even my smallest, most discreet request. Know that as hostess I had some power, at the very least, to request a drink. So what’s the worst that will happen if I now ask for a glass of wine? Still dancing, I make my way to an empty table, not noticing at first that people have started running. In the commotion that follows, I feel someone grab hold of my wrist. I think it’s an earthquake so I try ducking beneath a table. Then I feel someone lift me up.