Not surprisingly, Harriet and Miles had spoken a lot about Dominic and how they were both worried about him. Without Felicity in his life, he seemed dangerously adrift.

Thinking of Felicity now, as Harriet watched a colourful barge chug steadily by her bedroom window, she recalled Dominic saying that Felicity had known him inside and out.

For her part, Harriet no longer felt as though she knew her sister. She'd become a stranger. It saddened her, but Harriet wasn't even sure she liked the person her sister had turned into. She hadn't been fair to Jeff, and her treatment of Dominic - a man who was obsessed with her - wasn't much better; she'd kept him dangling by his heart strings for far too long.

Although Harriet didn't really believe in heaven, she sent up a silent message to her sister. 'It's time to let Dominic go, Felicity. You couldn't do it in life, but you must do it now or he'll never know peace of mind.'

It was a while before Bob could look at his garden without being consumed by a humiliating sense of shame and sorrow. He couldn't believe he'd destroyed something from which he'd derived such pleasure. The grief counsellor he was seeing said it was quite common to lash out at that which meant most to you when the chips were down, and he saw now that the therapist wasn't only referring to the terrible madness that had overtaken him on New Year's Day. The affairs he'd had - including the one he'd tried to have with Jennifer - had been a way of punishing poor Eileen. Subconsciously, he'd never properly grieved for those babies he and Eileen had lost, and he had blamed her for the miscarriages. Perhaps, more disturbingly, he'd also blamed her for not being able to keep Felicity alive.

The worst counselling session he'd had to sit through had been the one with Eileen present. The therapist had suggested she should be there and it was during this two-hour gruelling stint that they had openly discussed his affairs. He'd been devasted to learn that Eileen had always known about them and that she had suspected he'd met someone more recently. Humbled and broken-spirited he'd wept in her arms that night in bed - how could she be so forgiving? 'I don't deserve you,' he'd said to her.

'Don't ever say that.'

'But I don't understand how you've stood by me all these years.'

'It's called love, Bob. No matter what, I'll always love you.'

'I'm a lucky man.'

I'm a lucky man ... The words echoed in his head as he continued to stare at the garden, which he was now trying to put right. Only a matter of weeks ago he would never have thought he'd be able to describe himself as lucky, but he knew now that he was. His physical breakdown had been a blessing in disguise. He was now able to put his grief into context. It was still there, and would never go away entirely, but it was no longer the constant focus of his thoughts.

It pained him to know that Felicity had been so unhappy in her marriage, but nothing could help him to understand the relationship she'd had with Dominic McKendrick. How could she have been attracted to such a freak of nature? The therapist had suggested this was a typical father's reaction to an unsuitable suitor. 'But I accepted Jeff,' he'd told her. 'Jeff got my vote right from the start.'

'That was possibly because he was entirely suitable,' the quietly spoken woman had said, 'a safer bet than the wild and dangerous man who had the potential to be a genuine threat to your love for Felicity. From what you say, Jeff was a quiet, thoughtful man; a malleable man perhaps. Very likely, you saw him as someone who would never outshine you in your daughter's eyes.'

They had scarcely touched on his relationship with Harriet, but Bob knew there was a lot to be said on the matter. He knew also that he would be further shamed. It was rapidly becoming clear to him that he hadn't been altogether fair to Harriet. He hoped that one day she would forgive him.

He was also glad that he'd never gone ahead and had a full-blown affair with Jennifer. With Eileen's full knowledge he had written to Jennifer and apologised for his behaviour, to draw a line under the episode. By return of post he received a card wishing him all the best for the future. The therapist had suggested that his attraction to Jennifer had been more to do with the sense of freedom and independence she represented than the need for a s.e.xual relationship.

It was with this new understanding in mind that he had a surprise in store for Eileen. He'd been planning it for the last few days and he hoped Eileen would take to it as much as the therapist seemed to think she would.

It was Sat.u.r.day evening at Bellagio's.

Gemma didn't know whose idea it had been to go out for dinner, but she was glad they were here. It was good seeing her parents together like this. She wished Suzie was here to see it. Sometimes, late at night, when she couldn't sleep, she imagined herself writing a letter to her sister, as though she was away on a long holiday rather than dead. In the imaginary letters she would tell Suzie everything that was going on: how school was going, how Marcel had stopped writing to her because he'd got a girlfriend, how Nana Ruby was having a hip replacement next week and that Mum was paying for her to go privately, and that Dad had actually kissed Mum when she'd told him what she was doing. It was quite something to see Mum and Dad getting on better than they had in years. Nana Ruby said it was a shame they couldn't have done this ages ago, but that it was better late than never.

Hearing her name mentioned, Gemma tuned in to what her parents were saying. They were both looking at her expectantly, their gla.s.ses raised. 'What?' she said, realising that they were no longer talking about Mum and Steve's long weekend away in a few weeks' time.

'Here's to you,' her father said. 'Congratulations on the offer from Durham.'

Gemma frowned, embarra.s.sed. 'It's only an offer; I've got to get the grades yet.' She felt uncomfortable that she could think about going to university when Suzie was dead. it didn't seem right.

'You'll do fine,' her mother said.

'I might not, though.'

'And if you don't,' her father said after glancing quickly at her mother, 'that'll be fine too. Whatever happens in the summer with your exams, we'll be right behind you, won't we, Maxine?'

Gemma could see what they were up to and cringed. Dear Suzie, she imagined writing, Mum and Dad are driving me mad with their consideration and support. Help! Who will crack first; them or me?

After dropping Maxine and Gemma off, Will drove on to see his mother. She never went to bed early so when he rang the doorbell at half past ten he did so confident that she would still be up. 'I was just making myself a cup of tea,' she said when she opened the door. 'Would you like one?'

'No thanks, I'm buzzing full tilt on Maywood's finest Italian triple-strength espresso.'

'Been dining out, have you?'

'With Maxine and Gemma.'

He caught the twinkling smile in his mother's eyes as she poured herself a mug of tea. 'And yes, before you ask, Maxine and I really are making an effort these days,' he said.

'Good. How is she? I haven't seen her for a couple of weeks.'

'She still looks tired, but then that's probably because she's working too hard on top of everything else.'

'Does she know about Steve's surprise for her?'

'No, she doesn't have a clue. She thinks he's taking her to London and then on to a health spa for a few days.'

Ruby smiled. 'Oh, I'd love to see her face when he tells her they're going to Rome and Florence. She'll be thoroughly made up. All those art galleries and museums to lose herself in. It'll be just the ticket. Now come and sit down.' She pulled out a kitchen chair for him. 'I want to get a good look at you. You still look like you're not eating enough. How are you sleeping?'

'Mum, I'm forty-six years old; can you drop the parent routine for a bit and let me ask how you are? How's the hip?'

She sat down with a wince and a sigh. 'Sore.'

'Are you taking the painkillers and anti-inflammatories the doctor prescribed?'

'Yes.'

'Are they working?'

'Some days are better than others.'

'I know the feeling.'

Their eyes met. 'It'll get easier,' she said. 'Trust me.'

He watched her sip her tea and mentally thanked Maxine for what she was doing for his mother. It was only in the New Year that they had realised just how much pain Ruby was in. As was so typical of her, she'd kept it from them for several months because she didn't want to make a fuss.

'So how's business at the shop?' she said.

'Quiet. It's that time of the year.'

'And Jarvis? How's he?'

'Nagging me to get out and about more. You know, visiting the salerooms.'

'It makes sense. It you haven't got the stock you won't get the customers.'

'I know. I'm gradually getting back into the swing of it.'

'And your love life? How's that?'

'That's the last thing on my mind.'

'Then you're making a big mistake. A kiss and a cuddle would go a long way to making you feel better right now. What was that girl's name you were seeing before ... before Suzie died?'

'Harriet.'

'I liked her.'

'Don't be ridiculous! You never even met her.'

'I heard about her from Gemma and I did see her at the hospital that night. She looked a sweet little thing.'

'She wouldn't thank you for that description.'

Ruby tutted. 'These modern girls are all the same: toughened exteriors with silky soft centres. Gemma's the same. You'll need to keep a careful eye on her this year.

She's got a lot on her plate, what with grieving for her sister and the pressure of exams in the summer. I've told Maxine to go gently with her, to give her plenty of s.p.a.ce.'

'You're a wise woman, Mum.'

'I know. I'm also tired. I think I'd like to go to bed now.'

'Why don't you go on up and I'll sort everything out down here?'

'There's no need. You look more worn out than me. Better you push off home and get some sleep.'

Tired as he was, Will didn't go straight to bed when he got home. There was a message from Marty on his answering machine. It was almost midnight but he returned the call anyway. They had an agreement; it didn't matter what time of day or night it was - if either of them needed to talk, the other would be at the other end of a phone. Marty had finished the course of radiotherapy but Will still feared that the all-clear his friend had been given would turn out to be a hospital error.

'Did I wake you?' he asked Marty when he eventually picked up.

'No, I was in the shower.'

'Everything okay?'

'Everything's fine. More than fine, actually. That's why I rang. I wanted to ... well, the thing is ... Oh, h.e.l.l, now I feel silly, as if I'm bragging.'

'Get on with it, Marty. If it's good news, I could do with hearing it.'

'I've met someone. She's the specialist who's been treating me.'

'Is that ethical?'

'It is now I've finished the treatment.'

'That's brilliant! When do I get to meet her? What's her name and what's the protocol when I shake hands with her? Will it be rubber gloves and a discreet cough?'

'Her name's Jill and you can meet her if you promise not to try out any of those awful jokes. Hers are far better and I guarantee they'll make your eyes water into the bargain.'

It was good to hear Marty sounding more like his old self; Will was genuinely pleased for his friend.

Lying in bed later, he thought about what his mother had said about Harriet - in particular Ruby's description of her being a sweet little thing. At this he imagined Harriet giving him one of her looks that could split the atom. He then pictured her in the snow on New Year's Day. He closed his eyes and a whole series of memories came to him: the night he'd mistaken her for a boy; the day she'd had an asthma attack in the shop; the first life-threatening time he'd kissed her; the first time they made love. But the best memory of all was the one of her sitting by the fire with him after their New Year's Day walk had been snowed off. Her company that afternoon had meant more to him than she would ever know. It didn't matter that she had confessed to using him - people used one another all the time and he could live with that. Bizarrely, he admired her for having the guts to be so honest with him. But that was her all over. She didn't believe in taking hostages. After she'd gone, he'd poured himself another gla.s.s of wine and put on R.E.M.'s CD Reveal. When he heard the lyrics for 'Imitation of Life' and listened to Stipe singing about not being afraid and no one seeing you cry, he suddenly found himself weeping uncontrollably. Sorry Stipe, he'd thought, but I am afraid. I'm terrified, if you really want to know.

One of the things he hated most about mourning the loss of Suzie was that he had to do it alone. Was there anything more pitiful than crying alone? Despite the improved relations between him and Maxine, he was still very much isolated in his grief.

His mother was right; a bit of affection would be nice. More than that, it would be b.l.o.o.d.y fantastic.

He turned onto his back, resigned to it being one of those nights when all that was on offer was restless torment. He wondered what Harriet was doing right now. Whatever it was, it had to be better than him lying here in the dark realising just how much he missed her.

'Come on, Harriet, the kids are fast asleep; they'll never hear us.'

'But what if they do?'

Miles raised himself up onto an elbow and smiled. 'I'm prepared to risk it if you are.' He went back to unb.u.t.toning her shirt and kissing her. She closed her eyes and tried to relax. But she couldn't; she was trying to think if it was better to do it down here in the sitting room or upstairs in her bedroom. If they were in bed at least they'd have the duvet to hide under if they were interrupted. But if they were upstairs, they were more likely to wake the children; the bed would probably make more noise than an orchestra tuning up. Never mind waking the children, they'd probably wake the neighbours!

'Harriet, are you okay?'

She opened her eyes and realised that Miles was staring down at her hands, which were balled into fists either side of her. 'I'm sorry,' she said, 'I'm just finding it hard to concentrate. You know, with the children upstairs.'

He frowned. 'Married couples manage it all the time.'

'I know; that's what makes me feel so silly. I'm sorry.'

The frown disappeared and he smiled again, kissing her once on each eyelid and then on the lips. 'Let's try it on the floor. The sofa's a bit confining.'

It'll be fine, she told herself as she allowed Miles to take off her top. The children went to bed hours ago. They'll never hear us. She kissed him on the mouth and began undoing his trousers. He gave a groan of pleasure as her hands touched him. 'Now yours,' he said. Unzipping her jeans and kicking them off, she suddenly felt shy. The last time he'd seen her in her knickers was when they were children. He lay on his side and ran his hand the length of her thigh, then put it between her legs. She almost jumped at his touch. He then parted her legs and lay on top of her. 'I love you, Harriet,' he whispered into her ear. 'I always have.' He was breathing heavily now.

Oh, G.o.d, she suddenly thought, squeezing her eyes shut. He loves me. But I don't love him. Why don't I love him? What's the matter with me? I've known him nearly all my life; he knows me better than anyone. So why do I keep thinking this is so wrong?

She opened her eyes, and as if looking down at herself she realised it felt as if she were having s.e.x with a brother. She felt enormous affection towards Miles, but no desire; she was about as aroused as the ceiling she was staring up at. She began to panic. What should she do? If she backed out now, she would hurt Miles's pride. She couldn't do that to him. In that case, she had no choice but to grit her teeth and let him get on with it. Oh, why couldn't it be like when she'd been in bed with Will?

Her heart gave a small leap. Was that the answer? Could she imagine it was Will making love to her? She closed her eyes and pictured him. At once her body relaxed and she felt his smooth, firm hands caressing her, his tongue working deep into her mouth, his body pressing against hers. She put her arms around his neck and moved her body against his. 'Oh, Will,' she murmured, 'I've missed you so much.'

She suddenly heard what she'd said. Will. Will! His name reverberated off the walls.

Miles heard it too. He rolled away from her and sat bolt upright. For a while neither of them spoke. She reached for her clothes. 'I'm sorry, Miles. It just came out. I don't know what to say.'

'Sorry might be appropriate.'

'I just said I was sorry.'

'Is that what the problem's been all these weeks?'

'I don't know what you mean.' But she did. It was all too clear to her now. The prevaricating had had little to do with the children and everything to do with Will: her feelings for him had never gone away.

'You've been putting off s.e.x with me because you've still got a thing for Will, haven't you?'

'I didn't know it until just now,' she said. 'You must believe me, Miles. I would never consciously do anything to hurt you.'