The Vault

A birthday party in the only place to be seen sounds like fun, but does the birthday girl know her friend's secret? And is the fun about to get serious? Amy Stuart teases out the suspense...

The Vault is the spot to hold dinner parties. Most would be lucky to reserve it six months in advance, but Katy? Katy has a way of getting what she wants. And for her 28th birthday, she wanted the new vault room at the famously hip Dominion Bistro.

The guest list is a mere six of us: Katy; her cousin Naomi; Naomi’s husband Riyaz; our dearest friend Mariska; and me. That’s five. Rowan, Katy’s ex-boyfriend, is the sixth. So help me.

In true Katy form, my invitation arrived by mail on black linen paper embossed with gold letters. She personalised mine -- Dearest Lucy xxx -- her calligraphy impeccable. Also Katy: she doesn’t email unless absolutely necessary. She knits. She bakes shortbread cookies and gifts them on vintage plates topped with a muslin cloth. For the year they were together, Katy wrote Rowan love letters by hand. Until last summer, when he broke up with her. Over email.

Usually one to throw bashes, this intimate group is a twist for Katy. Still, I can admit that I’ve been planning my outfit for weeks. That I’m planning it with Rowan in mind. As Katy surely is too. There’s a triangle there. Scandal. Betrayal. Whether Katy knows it or not.

But tonight? Forget all that. We’ll be at the hottest spot in town. What should it be but fun?

I arrive at 8pm sharp. The Dominion Bistro is housed in an old converted bank on a fast-gentrifying block. A hostess leads me through tight rows of tables to a dark set of stairs near the bustling kitchen. We descend and she waves me through a heavy steel door. Here we are, in an actual bank vault. Katy skips over to me, gushing.

“Lucy!”

“Happy Birthday, Katy Girl,” I say, handing her my carefully wrapped gift.