'Fine. Really fine. And so much better for seeing you this morning. I feel ... well, I just feel rejuvenated, Lucy. Can't stop thinking about you.'

'Oh!' I clutched the receiver with two hands. 'Yes, me too.' 'And Lucy,' he lowered his voice, 'I know we said we'd take this thing really gently and sensibly and that it's literally only about two hours since I saw you, but guess what?'

'What?' I breathed, looking guiltily at the boys who were flat on their tummies now, diving under the dresser with sticks.

'The most tantalising thing. I suddenly have the most amazing excuse to go to London tomorrow. The BBC have just rung to say there's a possibility they're going to make a new Townbirds series, which they'd like to talk to me about. I'd be busy for much of the morning, but I'd be free after that. Lucy is there any chance of you getting away? Tell me if it's impossible, my love, but I would just adore it. I'm desperate to see you'

My knees buckled and I sat down hard on a convenient sofa.

'Not impossible,' I croaked. 'Not impossible at all. In fact, really rather possible.' My head whirled. 'Oh Charlie, I'm desperate to see you, too!' I whispered.

'Oh Lucy, that's brilliant. Listen, my meeting's at nine, so I should be able to get away by eleven and be at the flat from about twelve onwards. I have to be back here by tea-time, but we should have a couple of hours ... OK?'

The words 'a couple of hours' seemed to possess a resonance of illicit naughtiness. I shut my eyes and tried not to think of all the things that could happen in a couple of hours. 'OK,' I murmured.

'I must go, my love, I hear a car. Miranda's just got back from the shops. I'll see you tomorrow then, my darling. Oh, and by the way twenty-two Langton Villas!'

The phone went dead and I threw myself headlong onto the sofa, pressing my mouth ardently to a Kelim cushion.

'Twenty-two Langton Villas, twenty-two Langton Villas,' I whispered pa.s.sionately to the fringe. 'Oh my darling, I'm desperate too.'

'Desperate for what?'

I glanced up. Ben was standing over me, frowning.

'Oh!' I smiled radiantly up at him and sat up. Crossed my legs. 'The loo. I think Max is in there.'

'No, he's not. He's found his toad and he's cleaning it up. What are you doing to that cushion?'

'Hmm?' I glanced down. It appeared to be up my T-shirt. 'Oh.' I pulled it out. 'Feeling it. And smelling it too. Mmm . I sniffed. 'Divine. Imagine all those lovely ethnic hands, making it.'

'But who were you talking to?' he persisted.

'Oh, just someone I used to work with,' I said breezily. 'Why, darling?'

'Because you were pulling your tummy in and flicking back your hair and doing that silly shrieky laugh. Ah, ha ha haaa!' He mimicked, strutting round the room. Max joined in and they pranced around together, chests and bottoms thrust out, nostrils flared. 'Ah, ha ha haaa!' they shrieked in unison.

'Thank you, boys,' I said, straightening my hair. 'That will do. Oh, s.h.i.t! Tomorrow!'

's.h.i.t!' they squeaked, looking at each other in delight. 'Really bad mother,' said Max, in awe.

That's nothing, I thought grimly as I scurried to use the phone. What they didn't know, and what I hoped to keep firmly from them, was just how bad I was about to be.

As I dialled Netherby, I realised, in my fever, that I hadn't quite worked out what I was going to say. Oh G.o.d, pleasedon't let Rose answer. I hesitated, about to put it down, to formulate a plan, when Jack picked it up.

'Oh, Jack. Good, it's you'

'Lucy.' He sounded disconcerted. I had, after all, called him a b.l.o.o.d.y man not two minutes ago.

'Urn, listen Jack,' I ran an uncertain hand through my hair. 'Er, I was thinking. You know, you're probably absolutely right.'

'Oh? What about?'

'About wanting to go up to London tomorrow. To see Hector. I mean - you know, the sooner we get it all over with, the sooner it's finished. Sort of thing' G.o.d, did that sound callous? 'I mean, heavens,' I added quickly, 'we are a family, aren't we? A unit! Terribly important to stick together, don't you think? After all, blood is thicker than water, and all that.'

'Well, not your blood.'

'No, no, but Ned's blood' I glanced guiltily at the sky and crossed my fingers. Sorry, Ned. 'Just as important. Oh! Oh, and the boys,' I cried, suddenly remembering. 'The boys' blood, too'

'Yes, all right, I think that's enough blood,' he said drily. 'We'll be swimming in it soon.' He paused. 'You've changed your tune'

'I know but - well. You know. I've had time to think.' 'What, two minutes? I've just walked in.'

'Yes.' I ground my teeth and shut my eyes. 'Yes - two minutes. Because that was literally all it took, Jack, to see that you were absolutely right. As usual. As per bleeding usual you were completely and utterly spot on, and your way is undoubtedly the way forward, OK? So now that we've established that, got that bit of humble pie out of the way, why don't we make a plan and stick to it, as they say in the Army. Get this show on the road. I'm sure Trisha won't mind having the boys, so I'll pick you up at the house at ten o'clock tomorrow, OK?'

'Couldn't be more thrilled,' he said with weary indifference. 'Really. Couldn't be more thrilled. Whatever you say, Lucy. Just, whatever you say.'

Chapter Fifteen.

When the boys and I roared up the drive to Netherby the following morning - late, naturally - Ben and Max already had their hands on the door handles, keen, it seemed, to get away from me and tumble into Trisha's more relaxed hands. She'd got my message and was ostensibly waiting for them at the back of the house, although what she was actually doing, I noticed, as I screeched to a halt on the gravel, was flirting outrageously with Jack. He was balancing on the little wall around the fountain, arms outstretched and she was shrieking with laughter, goading him on, rushing up to whisper something in his ear as he jumped off, something too risque and unpalatable to say out loud, no doubt. I pursed my lips, tartly.

'Stinks in here,' muttered Ben as Jack opened the pa.s.senger door for him. 'And watch your p's and q's, Jack. She's really, really hyper this morning.'

'I am not hyper, Ben,' I hissed, getting out and running round to help Max out of the back. 'It's just you're so hopeless at getting out of bed, and now you're making me late!'

'There's no rush,' said Jack easily, lowering himself into the vacated front seat. 'I mean, they don't even know we're coming, do they? Blimey, Ben, you're right, there is a terrible pong in this car. What is it? Something died?' He looked around and sniffed. 'A rat?'

'It's Chanel Number 19, actually,' I snapped, getting back in and sniffing my wrist anxiously. d.a.m.n, I'd wondered if it was stale when I'd opened it. I hadn't used it for five years and the top was loose. Had I overdone it? 'And no,' I said, letting out the handbrake and reversing at speed, 'they don't know we're coming, because when I rang, the answer machine was on and I didn't think it prudent to leave a message in case the drawbridge went up. No, the point is Jack, I've got other things to do in London today besides seeing Hector and Rozanna, and I don't want to be late, OK?'

I ran a hara.s.sed hand through my hair and turned back to wave to the boys. As I did, I saw Trisha blow Jack a kiss. She looked lovely. Tanned, slim, and what was it now ... oh yes, young, that was it. I glanced in the rear-view mirror. I, on the other hand, looked like a Rembrandt self-portrait. b.u.g.g.e.r my mascara had smudged already. I licked a finger and ran it under my eyes.

'What things?' Jack clutched his seat in mock alarm as we shot off down the drive. 'Christ, you are in a hurry, aren't you? What things, and why are you all made up?'

He peered at me. I flushed and declined to answer.

'Ah right,' he nodded, 'don't tell me. Plan A is for you to go in all hot and vampy and steal Hector right from under Rozanna's nose, is that it?'

'I do not look hot and vampy!' I tugged desperately at my, admittedly, rather short skirt. Nothing was more annoying than making oneself look faintly s.e.xy for someone in particular, tofind someone else vicariously enjoying it.

'Nothing wrong with hot and vampy,' he mused, eyeing my legs appreciatively. 'Depends what it's all in aid of. Or who, more to the point. What other things?'

'Hmmm?' I sniffed my wrist again. Definitely stale. 'You said you had to do. In London'

'Oh. I'm, um, going to see Maisie and Lucas. You know, my parents' I felt my colour rise.

He regarded me quizzically. 'Yes, I know your parents.' He glanced ostentatiously at my skirt again. Raised his eyebrows. 'Right. I'll meet you there later on then, shall I? I too,' he gave a secret smile and folded his arms, 'have things to do this afternoon.'

'No, actually Jack, don't meet me there,' I said quickly. 'I'll pick you up when I've seen them. They live miles away, you know, right over in Westbourne Grove, and you don't want to trek all the way over there.'

'It's not miles. And anyway, I'd like to see them. Haven't-seen them for ages'

I'll pick you up, Jack, OK?' I said between clenched teeth. I flashed him a glare and nearly went up a lorry's backside. G.o.d, he was really annoying me now, and I wasn't sure I liked being forced into using my parents as an excuse, either. Although I phoned regularly, I should pop in on them. I hadn't seen them for ages. I felt suffused with guilt and irritation.

'Where will you be?' I snapped.

'Hmm?' He gazed down at my legs again, smiling. 'I said, where will you be!'

'Ah, yes, let me see. Where will I be?' He narrowed his eyes reflectively out of the window. 'Chelsea, I believe,' he concluded with a nod. 'Yes, Chelsea. If you insist, you can pick me up from there.'

'Chelsea?' I shot him a panicky look. 'Whereabouts?' 'Cheyne Walk. Just off, actually. Why?'

'Oh. No reason.' G.o.d, that was a relief. Cheyne Walk. Bit close for comfort, but at least it was right down by the river. 'What are you doing there?' I asked lightly.

'Oh, this and that,' he winked. 'Pa.s.sing the time. Concluding a little unfinished business.'

'Ah. I see.' I smiled knowingly. 'You don't change, do you, Jack? Trisha know about this unfinished business?'

He frowned in mock alarm. 'Now why on earth would Trisha want to know?'

'I can't imagine.'

'No, me neither. Now Lucy, please don't quiz me any more. I tend to crack under pressure and anyway, I'm not used to getting up at this unearthly hour. I'm a poet, not a Eurobond dealer. I need my shut-eye'

'Go ahead, you get your beauty sleep. Have a power nap. You're going to need all the power you can get if you're going to expend all that energy later on.'

'Well quite.'

He leaned back on the headrest with an equable smile, folded his hands across his chest, and shut his eyes. A few minutes later, the car reverberated to the sound of his faint, rhythmical breathing. I glanced across, envying him his totally relaxed disposition. Personally I needed to be horizontal in a darkened room, preferably with an eye-patch and a bottle of Benylin to hand before I could even contemplate winding down. I sighed and turned to Cla.s.sic FM for comfort. As wepurred up the motorway to the soothing melodies, I tried deliberately to relax, breathing all the way up from the diaphragm as I'd read one should in the Daily Mail and, oh yes, thinking about something pleasant, too. Charlie, obviously. Mmm ... Charlie. I breathed deeply and turned up Ravel's Bolero, letting it wash over me, humming along to the RUM, pu-pu-pu PUMS, which were getting really rather climactic. No wonder Torville had let Dean drag her about the ice like that. I gripped the wheel, going with the music, and as it rose to an almighty, final crescendo, felt my vital organs convulse with a palpable frisson, as no doubt Torville's had too. The windscreen seemed to be steaming up. I rubbed it with my hand and wondered, nervously, if I wasn't a bit old for all this. I drove on.

As I wove off the main A40 and down the North End Road, through the backstreets of Fulham, along the Broadway, and into the narrow roads I knew so well, I really did relax. I purred into wider avenues, gazing up at the tall, creamy buildings; pale and moody, they rose into a misty blue sky, window boxes tumbling with tasteful pink geraniums, black front doors and wrought iron railings gleaming in the hazy eastern light. Home. I turned into the bustling King's Road, crowded as ever, kicking with vitality, even at this hour; little cafes and wine bars spilled onto the street, and people clutching baguettes kissed each other h.e.l.lo, as they met on the pavement. I felt a rush of love for the place. People. A variety of people. Some in saris, some in turbans, some in high heels, some buying yams, some buying chillies that's what I missed. The conviviality, the chance meetings, the friendships with people one was thrown together with, the wonderful spontaneity of dear old, noisy, womb-like London. Not for me the formal, calculating way Lavinia saw her friends a dinner party in a diary two months hence and then a twenty-mile journey to sit around a vast table with sixteen clones of herself no. Spaghetti in the kitchen with my neighbours. A cappuccino with Jess on a hot pavement. That was my style, if I had one.

As I drew into my old road, I thought, too, how lovely it would be to see Charlie here. Back on familiar territory, in home clothes, mufti, as it were, where I felt most comfortable. As I glanced up at number 24, flicking my old, just about valid parking permit into the window, I realised, with an almighty pang, that stupidly, I hadn't even considered how I would react to being back home. How overwhelmingly nostalgic I would feel. How jealous of whoever was in my top-floor flat right now, walking about in my kitchen, putting the kettle on in my window. To my horror, a heavy weight descended on my heart and tears welled. I swallowed hard and willed myself to buck up, blinking desperately. Suddenly, I saw a face appear at Rozanna's ground-floor window. It was Hector. A light went on, the curtain closed, and I remembered, with a jolt, why we were here.

I glanced across at Jack, still sleeping soundly. Wiped my eyes. Oh G.o.d, we hadn't even talked about what we were going to say, let alone how we were going to approach this. I leaned across and shook him awake.

'Jack wake up! Listen, we're here, and we haven't really got a plan at all, have we? What are we going to say?'

'Hmmm?' Jack opened his eyes. He yawned and stretched. 'Oh, I'd say we pretty much play it by ear, wouldn't you?' He scratched his head sleepily.'Yes, but-'

'Look, Lucy. All we can do is watch and listen, really. We can't force anything out of him, and we can't drag him home by the scruff of his neck. thirty-six, for G.o.d's sake.'

I stared up at the house. Thirty-six. Christ, yes, thirty-six! What were we doing here, anyway? Hector was practically middle-aged, not a child. It was purely because he behaved like one that one forgot. I got out of the car and followed Jack nervously up the steps. My steps. The ones I'd dragged shopping up countless times, carried pushchairs and sleeping children up. I knew them intimately. Every line, every crack, every indentation.

I no longer had a key so we had to press the buzzer. As we stood on the step, Jack smiled at me.

'How does it feel to be back?' he asked gently.

I shrugged nonchalantly. Pulled a face. 'OK. A bit weird actually,' I lied. But it didn't. It felt safe. Like home.

'Oh!' Rozanna squawked through the intercom after we'd announced ourselves. 'It's you. Well, you'd better come in.'

We pushed the heavy black door and waded through the familiar sea of circulars which acc.u.mulated on the doormat no matter how often one picked them up, and then on down the long corridor.

Rozanna was waiting. She was standing at the entrance to her flat, arms folded in her blue silk dressing gown, leaning against the door frame. She smiled ruefully.

'Well, I don't know why I'm surprised,' she drawled. 'I suppose we should have expected this. Hey Hec,' she threw over her shoulder. 'It's the Seventh Cavalry. They've come to rescue you at last.'

'Idiot,' I said, kissing her as she let us in. 'We're not rescuing anyone. Just came to see you, that's all.'

'flees mother,' wheedled Jack, twiddling an imaginary Mexican moustache, 'she say she pay twenty thousand Amereecan dollars for the gringo's release.' He grinned at a surprised Hector, who was reading in the window seat at the far end of the room. 'Hi there, Hec.' He turned back to Rozanna. 'What you say to that, beetch?'

Rozanna grinned back. 'I say you tell her no! I say you take hees leetle finger back in a box and tell her - for twenty thousand dollars, ees all she's getting!'

'And that's the only extremity you're prepared to relinquish?' Jack enquired, lowering his voice. 'Nothing,' he waggled his eyebrows, 'nothing larger?'

She giggled. 'No, I'm rather partial to the rest, aren't I, Hec?'

Hector swung his legs round off the seat and stood up indignantly. 'b.l.o.o.d.y cheek. She sent you up here, didn't she? Well, I'm not going back, you know.' He blinked hard, fists clenched by his sides.

He reminded me of a child, defiantly declaring he wasn't going back to boarding school at the end of the holidays. On closer inspection, though, I did a double take. Reclining on that window seat, I'd hardly recognised him, and now I realised why. He was dressed, not in his usual uniform of Viyella checked shirt and cords, but in a bright pink shirt and black jeans, for heaven's sake.

''Course you're not going back, Hector,' I soothed. 'We just wanted to talk to you, that's all. See-'

'How the land lies,' interrupted Rozanna. 'Have a nose.Take notes, report back, that kind of thing. Well go on then, get on with it.'

'Yes, that's it,' agreed Jack cheerfully, removing a laundry basket from a chair before flopping down into it. Tut please, let it be noted, that we're "nosing", as you put it, under duress. As Luce and I were bound to agree earlier, we still have to suck up to old Ma Fellowes, because we still live there, don't we?' He shot me a look. 'Unlike you, you b.a.s.t.a.r.d,' he grinned at Hector. 'You made it over the wire, lucky sod. I take it the forged pa.s.sport worked then? And the civvies I made for you from my old underpants?'

'I'm not going back,' repeated Hector, ignoring Jack's banter, 'and that's final. You can tell her that from me. I love Rozanna, and I'm not giving her up. I'm going to marry her, and that's the end of it, OK?'

His face was flushed with emotion, and I couldn't help thinking it was probably the longest speech he'd ever made.

'Good for you, old boy,' said Jack quietly. 'That's all we need to know. All we need to hear, in fact. No doubt about your feelings, we'll report back immediately.' He plucked a bra from the laundry basket beside him and put it on his head, aping earphones.

'Mayday, Mayday, ship's going down,' he reported into his clenched fist. 'No use sending lifeboats, captain's going down with it. Hmm? What? First mate? Hang on, I'll ask. Rozanna?' He turned quickly, smiling, but regarding her carefully. 'You going down too?'

She wrapped her blue robe around her with a smile. Plucked the bra off his head.

'Ah yes, I see,' she said lightly, but it was the lightness of metal. 'You think Hector is the innocent here, don't you? And that obviously his feelings will be pure and true, because it's the first time he's fallen head over heels in love, poor darling. But dear old Rozanna, well. I mean, she's knocked about a bit, hasn't she? She's a tart, for crying out loud, how can she possibly have feelings about anyone? All that honking must have numbed her emotions, petrified them rigid. Paid bonking too. And all those men! Heavens.'

There was a silence as she went to stand beside Hector. 'Except that actually, Jack, despite all those men, I've never met one like Hector.' She paused. 'Oh, I've met some charming ones, don't get me wrong, and I've had a very nice time, been treated quite splendidly in fact, otherwise I wouldn't have done it. And I never had to do it, either. I could always turn a guy down if I didn't fancy him, walk out of his luxury suite at Claridge's saying, "No thanks mate, simply not interested," as was often the case. But you know,' she puckered her brow, 'interestingly, out of all the ones I did fancy, all the ones I did spend the night with City businessmen, captains of industry, diplomats, pop stars I never, ever wished I could take one home. Never met one I'd like to keep. But then,' she turned fondly to Hector, 'like I said, I never met one like this before.' Their eyes seemed to collide. Ignite, almost. 'A decent, kind, sincere, straightforward man, who isn't afraid of his emotions, who tells me what he's thinking the moment he thinks it. A good person.' She turned back. 'Prior to that, I'd only ever met men who couldn't get over themselves. Men like Archie.'