I was glad to be sitting South. It meant I remained at the same table throughout the session, and so far, after the first three rounds, the reception had been very good. I was having no difficulty perceiving my uncle.
"What are your defensive signals, please?" asked the dignified woman in the East seat.
"Standard," I said, having memorized the answer to that question.
"Is your primary answer attitude or count?"
"Um …"
"Attitude," said Toni, "unless count is obviously more important."
"Of course," said the woman.
I should explain.
When you are on defense, if you are not trying to win the trick, then the card you play sends a signal to your partner. Just like in the bidding, you are not allowed to have any secret signals. The opponents can ask what signals you use.
I usually got by with saying "Standard."
It basically works like this. A high card encourages. A low card discourages. Let's say your partner leads the 
3, and the 
A is played from the dummy. Since you are unable to win the trick, you can signal your partner for later. If you held the K62, you would play the 6, encouraging, telling your partner you had something good in clubs. If instead you held 
862, you would play the 2, discouraging your partner from leading clubs again.
Those are called attitude signals because you are telling your partner your attitude toward clubs. But sometimes it's hard to tell. Is the six high or low? If you have 
K32, the 3 is the highest card you can signal with. If you have 
987, the 7 is a low card.
That's the problem I was having with Toni. I couldn't read her signals. I didn't know if she was encouraging me or discouraging me. And I'm not talking about bridge anymore.
"Seven of hearts," said Trapp.
I set the card on the table and tried to focus on the game. It was dangerous to let my mind drift.
I looked across the table at Toni. She was the picture of concentration.
Toni saw me looking at her. She smiled and winked.
"You shouldn't have done that," I told her after the opponents had left the table. If the opponents had seen her wink at me, they might have thought she was giving me some kind of secret signal.
"Done what?" she asked.
"Wink."
"Wink?"
"You winked at me."
"I did not!" she insisted. "Why would I wink at you?"
A new East-West pair sat down at our table, abruptly ending our discussion and saving me from further embarrassment.
I removed my cards from the South slot and sorted my hand.
"One heart," said Trapp.
I set the bid on the table.
She had winked. I could still see it in my mind: a slight upturn of the left corner of her mouth, then the quick but purposeful flick of her right eyelid.
Before I knew it, it was my turn to bid again. Trapp's voice was extremely fuzzy, no doubt because my mind was still thinking about the wink.
I looked at my cards, and at all the bids on the table. I bid two no-trump and hoped it was right.
Toni bid three no-trump and everyone passed.
I must have made the correct bid, because Trapp didn't call me a donkey. He was the declarer, and I forced myself to concentrate on his instructions.
Halfway through the hand, I realized I'd been wrong. Toni hadn't winked. There was no way she would have risked doing that in the middle of a bridge hand. She was also too shy.
The wink had come from Annabel.