Amber, chameleon-like today in her own school uniform of jeans and T-shirt (oh if only the women in the League could see her now…), sits on the bench in the playground in school watching Grace hold hands with Molly as they both squeeze together on the slide.

‘How sweet are they,’ says Deborah, plonking herself down on the bench next to Amber, cardboard cup of coffee in hand. ‘And how nice to see you today. Where’s Lavinia?’

‘She’s at home waiting for Jared’s bus. I thought it would be nice to pick Gracie up myself, plus we have…’ she pauses, unsure of whether or not Deborah has been invited to Hunter’s birthday party, ‘um…’

‘Hunter’s birthday party?’ Deborah laughs. ‘Don’t worry, the whole basketball class is going.’

Amber had learnt the rules of suburban socializing quickly, and one of them was never mention where you are going in case the person to whom you are talking has not been invited.

Admittedly not everyone followed these rules. The more gauche or desperately upwardly mobile, including of course the competitive women in the League, tended to tell everyone where they were going, or post it on their noticeboards, just so everyone knew they had been included too, irrespective of who else might have been excluded, but Amber tried to be careful, tried not to hurt anyone’s feelings.

And even though Deborah was her closest friend, there were times when she turned up to dinner parties and there was Deborah, to whom she had spoken less than an hour before, when neither had mentioned they were off to the house of a mutual friend.

Deborah tended to be pragmatic about it. ‘You can’t invite everyone to everything,’ she always said, but Amber knew that the few times she had been excluded, she had taken it personally and had wondered why not her, what was wrong with her that she hadn’t been invited, was it perhaps that they thought her not good enough?

Poor Amber. Still so self-conscious, despite being married to a Winslow, still worried that if the girls whom she seeks to impress were aware of her humble beginnings, they might sneer at her, might ostracize her from the in crowd.

Of course Amber never stops to think of their own backgrounds. Never questions their own overwhelming need to impress with labels, ostentation, name-dropping.

Although Deborah has noticed. ‘God, they’re all so nouveau,’ she said, just last night, to her husband, Spencer, putting on a Brahmin Boston accent. ‘Half these girls were brought up with nothing, but to look at them today you’d think they were born in Buckingham bloody Palace.’

Spencer shrugged. ‘What about your friend Amber? If you don’t like it how come you see so much of her?’

‘Amber’s different,’ Deborah said. ‘Deep down she’s a good person.’

‘But still, you always say she’s just as desperate to keep up with the Joneses.’

Deborah nodded sadly. ‘I know, you’re right, but here’s the difference: she doesn’t judge me because we don’t have what she has, whereas the others, that Suzy for example, probably wouldn’t even set foot in our house.’

‘What’s the matter with our house?’ Spencer was genuinely bemused, and Deborah laughed and sat on his lap, putting her arms around him.

‘That’s why I love you,’ she grinned. ‘You haven’t even noticed that our entire house could fit into Amber’s kitchen.’

Spencer frowned. ‘But you like it, don’t you? Not that we could afford more, but would you want to live in something bigger?’

‘Would I want to? Sure. In a dream world I’d love to have a big, beautiful house, but in the real world the only thing I want, other than my darling husband, is a finished basement so the kids have somewhere to play.’

‘I know, I know. Hopefully I’ll get a bonus at the end of the year and I promise that will be a priority, that’s what we’ll spend the money on.’

Deborah snuggled up to him. ‘I don’t care that we’re poor,’ she said. ‘We have each other. And the kids.’

‘We’re not poor,’ Spencer insisted. ‘We’re just not rich.’

‘Same difference when you live in this area.’ Deborah laughed. ‘But still, I don’t care. At least we have our priorities in the right place, which is more than can be said for some people.’

‘Including your friend Amber?’

‘Oh give the girl a break. She’s a good friend to me and I love her.’

Today, after school, is Suzy’s son, Hunter’s birthday party. It’s being held at Gymini Stars, the local Jungle Gym which opened only six months ago and has rapidly become the in place for birthday parties.

Initially the parties were all the same. You would open the same invitation from Gymini Stars, have the same allotted time on the gym equipment, play the same games during circle time, eat the same pizza and birthday cake, and receive the same balloons tied to your loot bags on the way out.

Lately, though, Amber has noticed a change. Now some of the invitations are not the generic invitations from Gymini Stars, but have been specially ordered from Sarah Belmont who has opened a stationery business from her home. And the parties are changing. In the last sixweeks Amber has been to children’s birthday parties that had face painters, clowns, and an inflatable bouncy castle in the car park.

‘What can we do?’ shrugs David, the amenable, consistently cheerful owner of Gymini Stars. ‘Everyone wants to outdo everyone else.’

Just last week Amber picked up Jared from Henry’s birthday party where they had flown in a karate teacher from Los Angeles to give the kids customized karate lessons. It was over the top, but got worse when Jared got in the car after the party and ripped open the wrapping paper on his party favour to find it was a Transformer – a fire truck that turns into a robot, which made Amber feel sick with shame because it was exactly what they had given Henry as his actual birthday present, and she drove home in a cloud of humiliation that she had spent the same amount of money on the birthday gift as the parents had for party favours – thirty-two of them.

This time she isn’t going to make the same mistake for Hunter. Even though he is only three years old, Amber has bought him a building block castle that, when assembled, is the size of a playhouse. It has cost a fortune, but is worth it to know that she won’t have to suffer the same humiliation.

Oh God. It is so exhausting, this constant competition. Sometimes Amber longs for a simpler life. Not that she’d ever want to go back to where she came from, but sometimes she thinks about her life in Manhattan, before she met Richard, or in those early days when they were married, before children, when they just had fun. No responsibilities, no children to worry about, nothing to get up for on the weekends, life had been so carefree and easy.

Not that she’d want to change her children; she does, after all, adore them, even though she doesn’t spend very much time with them, but life seems to have become so busy, so harried, and there are times when she disappears into her office and goes to realtor.com, when she looks at farms in Montana, cottages by the water in Vermont, places where there are no Joneses with whom to keep up, places where money doesn’t matter and happiness is not about who is the best dressed or has the most expensive handbag.

But of course that’s just a dream. How can they possibly leave Highfield when Richard commutes in to Wall Street every day, and even if they moved to a different town, would it really be any different? She has friends in Westport, friends in New Canaan, friends in Rye, friends in Englewood, and all of them seem to have similar issues. As long as Richard is working in the city Amber knows they have to stay within the commuter belt, and as long as they stay in the commuter belt Amber will have to play the game, and as long as she is going to play the game, why not win? Or at least make an attempt. Remember, Amber didn’t get to where she is today without a thread of steel running through her.

Oh what the hell, Amber laughs as she pulls off her Manolo boots and follows Gracie onto the jungle gym, clambering awkwardly up the rope ladder to the jumbo swirly slide as Jared and Gracie shriek with laughter and excitement, unable to believe that their mother is the only mother who is playing up there with them.

‘Yay, Mom!’ Jared whoops. ‘Come on the slide with me!’

‘Can I come on your lap?’ Gracie shouts, pushing Jared aside.

‘Come on, guys,’ Amber laughs, opening her legs so Jared can sit in the middle as she pulls Gracie onto her lap and the three of them tumble down the slide, coming out the other side to a gaggle of women, heads together, talking intently.

Suzy looks up to see Amber and shakes her head. ‘Amber Winslow, I cannot believe what I am seeing. Are you crazy?’

Amber forces a laugh. ‘Just trying to keep my kids happy,’ and she rolls her eyes as if she’d rather be anywhere else than barefoot on a jungle gym, although the truth is she’d far rather be on the jungle gym than sitting on the benches by the side, gossiping with the other women.

Twenty minutes later Amber has no choice but to join the women. She’s exhausted, and despite Gracie clinging on to her and begging her to come on the trampoline, she has to sit down.

‘Oh boy,’ she says, collapsing on a bench next to Deborah. ‘I am exhausted. I thought my workouts were bad but that is something else.’

‘How do you think Lavinia manages to stay so thin?’ Deborah grins. ‘I’ve seen her up there running after your children.’

Amber shoots Deborah a sharp look. ‘Please tell me you’re not trying to make me feel guilty about not spending enough time with my children…’

‘Are you kidding? I’d kill for a full-time nanny. If Spencer’s bonus comes through he thinks we’re going to be finishing the basement, but frankly I’d rather spend the money on a babysitter. I’m exhausted every night, the television is the only babysitter I’ve got so my kids are watching about two hours a day, which I hate, but God knows I need a break by then, and it’s all I can do to stay up to say hello to my husband before collapsing into bed. Not to mention the fact that by the time the witching hour comes along I’ve turned into a screaming harridan. My poor kids have forgotten that it’s even possible for me to talk in a normal voice.’

‘At least you’ve got an excuse,’ says Amber. ‘I fall into bed every night at eight thirty and I’ve got Lavinia. Why the hell am I so exhausted? What happened to my energy, my zest for life?’

Deborah shrugs. ‘I suppose it’s just being a mother and having a busy life and being thirty-five. And it’s not as if you’re sitting around doing nothing all day. You’re at the gym, you’re doing all the charity stuff, the League stuff. With all your running around you’re bound to be just as tired.’

‘You’re probably right. I just felt that we hibernated all last winter. Richard went crazy not going out, and I promised that in the summer we’d be back to socializing, and I’d have people over all the time, and we’d be barbecuing every night, and meanwhile it’s now almost the end of March, the weather’s unseasonably beautiful and do you think we’ve entertained once?’

‘We came over last weekend. That’s entertaining.’

‘Nope. It doesn’t count if the kids are there. I mean proper grown-up entertaining. Richard wants us to have a party this summer, cocktails round the pool, grown-up music, that kind of thing.’

Deborah shrugs. ‘Richard needs to accept that he’s a family man now. It’s different once you have kids.’

‘But it wasn’t,’ Amber pleads. ‘Up until about a year ago we used to go out all the time, we always had energy. Now when we’re out for dinner I start having an anxiety attack as nine o’clock approaches because I’m not home and in my bed.’

Deborah starts to laugh. ‘We went to Jerry and Stacey’s house for dinner last week, and they asked us to get there at six thirty, so we found a babysitter and thought great, it will be an early night.’

‘What night of the week?’

‘Thursday.’ Amber raises an eyebrow to which Deborah nods, ‘Exactly! So we turned up and sat around the kitchen table talking and Stacey kept saying she was going to cook, and she really ought to start cooking, and meanwhile she didn’t even start chopping onions until half past eight.’

‘You’re kidding!’ Amber gasps in horror.

‘I kid you not. So we sit down for dinner at quarter to ten by which time I’m so exhausted I can barely keep my eyes open, and we don’t get out of there until midnight.’

‘God, how selfish.’ Amber grins. ‘Don’t they have children the same age? How are they able to do it?’

‘I know. That’s what we were saying. Who the hell stays up that late with young children? On a Thursday! So, if Jerry and Stacey ever invite you over, make sure you say no.’

‘Good advice. So have you figured out what you’re going to wear to the gala?’

Deborah shakes her head. ‘Not yet. I’ve got a black dress that I wore to a wedding a couple of years ago which I’ll probably wear. But how about you? I bet you’ve bought something fabulous.’

Well of course Amber has bought something fabulous. This gala isn’t any old gala, it’s the high point of the Highfield social calendar, the sparkling society ball where everyone dresses to see and be seen.

This year it’s at Sweeping Views, the town country club, and although those on the committee, Amber included, claim to view it as the biggest fundraiser of the year (which it is), it’s caused many a near-nervous breakdown amongst women planning their wardrobes.

Amber didn’t even bother with Rakers this year. She didn’t want anyone to have seen her outfit. It was straight into Bergdorfs for Amber, and straight upstairs for a delicate, feathered, Oscar de la Renta cocktail dress which Amber had already earmarked in last month’s Vogue.

Months had been spent planning the gala. Local businesses had been approached to make donations to the silent auction, and anyone with connections was asked to try and finagle something special.

Highfield being Highfield, amongst the items being offered this year were a week on Necker island, travelling back and forth in Virgin Upper Class, a guest cameo appearance on Will and Grace, and the opportunity to work as a roadie on Maroon 5’s upcoming tour (this was the pièce de résistance, the husband of one of the women on the committee having a best friend who was a music promoter, and would prove to be hotly bidded for by parents of hip teenage girls with crushes on the lead singer).

Amber herself had gone to Uncle Bobby – Robert Winslow III, the only member of the Winslow family, other than Richard, who still has money, even though it is self-made – and requested he donate some time on his yacht. Naturally he had complied, and Amber was thrilled to have a page donated to a free sail around the Hamptons for a long weekend this summer, donated by Amber and Richard Winslow.

Let Suzy put that in her pipe and smoke it.

Suzy and her husband had donated a case of rare wine. She had talked for months about their house in the Bahamas, and how they were going to donate that, but in the event it seemed that it had suffered damage during the recent hurricanes, and she was so upset but it wouldn’t be ready in time.

In truth, the damage suffered consisted of two missing roof tiles, but Suzy was no fool. She wanted her friends to know they had a place in the Bahamas, she just didn’t want them to know it was a minuscule one-bedroom condo that was on the wrong side of the tracks, and a twenty-minute drive to the beach.

‘What are you two talking about?’ Suzy approaches with an approximation of a gracious smile and sits down with Amber and Deborah.

‘We were just talking about what we’re going to wear to the gala,’ Deborah smiles innocently. ‘What about you, do you have your outfit?’

‘Oh yes,’ Suzy nods. ‘I picked up this adorable little dress the last time I was in the city.’ The city. Codespeak for expensive. ‘I was just looking at Dolce & Gabbana and I really didn’t think I’d find anything, and it’s so expensive, but then I fell in love and I tried it on, and I just had to have it. My husband went crazy, so I don’t think I’m going to be allowed to buy anything else for the rest of the season!’ She trills with laughter, pretending to poke fun at herself. ‘How about you, Amber?’ she says. ‘Do you have your outfit?’ Deborah grins to herself, knowing that Suzy would never bother asking her, Deborah being no competition whatsoever.

‘Yes,’ Amber smiles. ‘I’ve got a lovely dress.’

‘Oh?’ Suzy waits for more information. There’s none forthcoming. ‘From Rakers?’

‘No.’ Amber shakes her head with a smile and decides to leave her hanging. There’s an awkward silence which Amber is tempted to fill, but she decides not to.

‘Well I’m sure you’ll look beautiful,’ Suzy says eventually. ‘Oh and by the way, thank you again for that yacht trip, I think that’s going to be a big winner at the auction. We had a last-minute addition this week, did you hear about Amberley Jacks?’

‘No.’

‘Well we got so lucky. I managed to get them to donate a full house makeover. Obviously whoever wins will have to pay for the furniture, but they’re donating their time for free. Isn’t that extraordinary? I was so lucky to even get hold of them, apparently they don’t even return eighty per cent of their calls, and they only take on a handful of clients at a time.’

Deborah nudges Amber. ‘See? You should have waited. Richard’s already having a fit about how much money they’re costing.’

There’s a pause. ‘Oh.’ Suzy raises an eyebrow. ‘You’re using Amberley Jacks?’

Amber shrugs apologetically.

‘Well!’ She sniffs in an attempt to hide her jealousy. ‘You’re very lucky to have got them, I must say. You’re going to be the envy of all the town. Girls, I have to go and socialize, excuse me, but help yourself to Diet Coke.’

‘You are so bad!’ Amber turns to Deborah who flashes an evil grin.

‘I know!’ she chuckles. ‘But I couldn’t help it. God, she’s such a desperate social climber. Dolce & bleedin’ Gabbana. Who does she think she is? I’m surprised she didn’t tell us exactly how much her outfit cost.’

‘I’m sure she would have done if we’d shown a bit of interest,’ Amber laughs.

‘Did you see her face when I told her you were using Amberley Jacks?’ Deborah rubs her hands together. ‘Talk about ruining her birthday party.’ Deborah turns around and sees Suzy talking closely to three other women, all of them looking over at Amber. Deborah gives them a small wave and turns back to Amber. ‘Don’t look now but I think you’ll find the whole room’s going to know about Amberley Jacks any second.’

‘Oh God,’ Amber groans, suddenly tired of trying to keep up. She turns to Deborah with a sigh. ‘Can’t we just give it all up and go and live in Vermont? Don’t you get tired of all this?’

‘Nope. I love it,’ Deborah says lightly. ‘But that’s because I don’t get involved. Actually I can’t get involved. Haven’t got the money, and that’s probably why I enjoy it so much. Look, you’ve got to admit it’s ridiculous. Someone should write a book about it. Social Climbers in Suburbia. Bet you that would be a bestseller.’

‘I wish I could be more like you.’ Amber sighs. ‘Sometimes I can look at it and see how awful it is, but other times I feel so insecure, and it’s as if the clothes, and the jewels and all that superficial stuff is like armour, it protects me, makes me pretend I’m as good as all of them.’

‘But you are as good as all of them.’ Deborah’s voice is suddenly serious. ‘In fact, no, Amber, you’re much better. I know you feel insecure with them, but life isn’t a competition, you know that, and you’re a real person, which is more than can be said for Suzy. You have a wonderful husband, two gorgeous children and a fantastic best friend,’ she grins. ‘The trick is to surround yourself with the good people and not to get involved in all the crap, other than for anthropological reasons, of course.’

‘You know, you’re right,’ Amber says firmly, standing up as she prepares to lead Jared and Gracie in for the requisite birthday pizza and cake. ‘After this gala, that’s it. I’m done. No more charities. No more mixing with people who care about stuff like that. I’m going to change my life.’

‘That’s it!’ Deborah says, clapping her hands. ‘See? You can do it.’

‘But…’ And Amber turns to her with a worried look. ‘Do you really think it’s possible to get away from all of that in a town like Highfield?’

Deborah shrugs. ‘I manage,’ she smiles. ‘And if not there’s always Vermont.’