'Some of them.'

'All of them. What man do you know who you'd really trust with your kids?'

'My brother Vin.'

'I'd forgotten about him. Okay, apart from him?'

'There are some nice men out there, Grace, I'm sure there are.'

'Names?'

'My friend Connie's husband Mark, he's lovely, and Martin, he's helping me do the website for the shop, and Reg, he's nice.'

'He married your Gran, right?'

'Yes.'

'I've always had terrible taste in men. I always go for the bad boys. But I think I might try something a bit less complicated next time.'

'Next time?'

'I'm holding auditions, cast to be announced.'

'How lovely.'

Maxine comes back in.

'He did a quick interview at the gates and then got back into his car. He said he's respecting his daughter's privacy so he won't be discussing anything. He looked pretty pissed off, though.'

'I bet he did. Right, I'm starving. What about you, Jo? I think Sam has made cake, if you're interested. And I want to look at those patterns. Have we got those studio dates sorted yet, Max? I want to get them into Jo's diary.'

'They're still confirming.'

'Well, let her have them as soon as we know. We're off to Paris tomorrow, for meetings about the Simone de Beauvoir film. Come with us, if you like.'

'I'd love to, but I've got the school Summer Fayre on Saturday. I'm doing the white-elephant stall. Appropriate, don't you think?'

Maxine smiles.

'I'll sort out a couple of bags for you. We get loads of requests for stuff for charity auctions so I've got a cupboard full of things Grace has signed off. Come and have a look.'

'That would be great. If you're sure?'

Grace nods.

'I'll meet you in the kitchen. I need food.'

After standing and marvelling in front of the charity cupboard outside Maxine's office, and recognising some of the costumes from Grace's films, I realise Maxine hasn't really understood just how low-key our white-elephant stall is likely to be. There's no way we could sell any of this stuff for anything like the money they'd get at a proper charity event, so we end up agreeing that I'll take a beautiful beaded shawl, which we can have as some sort of top-prize incentive, and then I sit knitting with Grace for half an hour, while she picks at a salad and I try to resist a second slice of fruit cake.

She hugs me as I'm leaving, which isn't something she's done before.

'Thanks, Jo.'

'My pleasure. Well, not pleasure, but you know. Any time.'

'So you'd come, even if you weren't on the payroll?'

'Of course I would, if only for the cake.'

She laughs.

'Great. And you signed a confidentiality thing, didn't you, the one Max sent you?'

'Of course I did, Grace.'

'Sorry. I shouldn't have mentioned it. You never ask for stuff, and I like that. Everyone always wants something.'

'Well, now you mention it '

'What?'

'I'm joking; but a few top tips on how I'm going to carry off being dressed as a Victorian milkmaid while we're on our white-elephant stall would be good.'

She smiles as Maxine appears with a large carrier bag.

'Grace asked me to put a couple of extra things in for you and your friend. But not for the stall, though, Okay?'

'Thank you so much. That's really kind.'

Maxine walks me to my car.

'Thanks for today, Jo it really helped having you here. She was pretty rattled.'

'I don't blame her.'

'If they try to stop you at the gates, just say you don't know what they're talking about, okay?'

'Sure.'

'Most of them have left, so you should be fine. Bruno will see you out. And I'll call you later with those dates.'

'Thanks, for the shawl and everything. It'll be the star of our stall.'

As soon as I'm out of sight of the house I stop the car to look in the bag; there's a beautiful pale-blue kimono that I remember Grace wearing when she was heavily pregnant, and it's so enormous I'm pretty sure I'll be able to fit into it, even if it won't wrap round quite as much as it did on her. And there's a gold evening bag that I'm sure Connie will love. We'll put some money in the pot for the stall, and get to feel like film stars at the same time. Brilliant.

I'm ten minutes early for school, so I nip into the hall to see how the new school banner is coming along. Mrs Chambers is sitting sewing on a border of the knitted picture squares the top class made, interspersed with brightly coloured squares in different fabrics. Satin and velvet mostly, from the oddments that parents have brought in. She's dyed a large flannel sheet pale grey, and we've made up the letters for Broadgate School from the different strips of knitting Mrs Callender's class made. The sea looks particularly good in lots of different shades of blue knitted squares, courtesy of Archie's class, and the school building is looking much clearer now Mrs Pickering has hemmed round the grey and brown squares in black wool.

'We're going to start sewing on the trees tomorrow. The children are so excited. They keep coming over to have a look and see where their work is going. Even Mrs Morgan was having a look earlier on too.'

We exchange glances.

'Will you still be in on Friday so we can start on the people? Mr O'Brien's doing history with my lot for the afternoon, so I'll be free until three.'

'Yes, Friday should be fine. How many squares have we got now?'

Mrs Chambers has solved the problem of how to turn an assortment of woollen shapes into little stick people by sewing them on to pieces of grey flannel and giving them out in batches to all the sewing volunteers to add arms and legs and faces. Jane Johnson and Mrs Pickering have done quite a few, and Mrs Williams who runs the Brownies should definitely get a gold sewing badge for her brilliant range of different-coloured faces and hair, all neatly embroidered in silks and wools.

'I thought we could sew Mr O'Brien's bell on top of the clock tower on Friday. He's very keen we don't forget.'

'Great.'

'And I thought I should warn you, he's mentioned you in his end-of-term letter. Saying thank you for coming in to do the knitting.'

'That was kind of him. I hope he thanked you too.'

'Oh yes, but you get a special mention.' She winks and I know exactly what she's thinking: Annabel Morgan is going to love that.

Connie's thrilled with the gold bag, and we arrange to sort through all the jumble tomorrow after school; we've already diverted two full bin bags to the recycling skips outside Sainsbury's, and I've got a feeling there'll be more when we start on the next load of carrier bags waiting for us in the school secretary's office.

Connie's taking Nelly to ballet, which she's recently started, mainly because she likes the outfits, so I bring Marco home with us, and Archie throws a strop when he and Jack won't let him join in their Lego game.

I'm knackered by bedtime, but I've tried on the kimono and it fits, so I'm slinking about wearing it after my bath, when it finally starts to rain and everything cools down.

Jimmy's performance today has rattled me; it's reminded me that there's probably still more to come from Daniel at some point. More lawyer's letters, who knows. The baby's moving a lot tonight, like it's trying to get comfortable. Oh God, I wish this was Nick's baby. I really do. It would be so much simpler. I know, I'll write a list; that always helps. A list and some tea, and I can lie and listen to the rain and try to get some sleep.

I'm in the shop on Thursday morning making up an order for a beach-bag kit and trying to find where Elsie's put the scissors when she rushes in looking flushed and breathless.

'You'd better come, it's Mr Pallfrey. That silly dog's had him over, in the middle of the road. It's a miracle he wasn't killed. I'll stop here he's outside the baker's, and he's asking for you.'

'Is he all right?'

'Well, he's a funny colour, but I think so. They've called an ambulance, to be on the safe side, and he was sitting up, but you never know.'

The ambulance has arrived and there's a small crowd, including Betty and Mrs Davies, both looking worried.

'Here she is, Arnold. Now don't you fret.'

He's lying on a stretcher, with an ambulance man putting a needle in his arm, and Trevor lying beside him, being unusually quiet.

'Hello, Mr Pallfrey.' I don't think I'll call him Arnold. It seems a bit cheeky somehow.

He smiles, very faintly.

'Hello, dear. Sorry about this. Silly fuss about nothing, I'm sure. I only took a little tumble.'

I kneel down, which takes a bit of doing, and I notice the ambulance man glancing at my stomach.

'No need to upset yourself, love. He's a tough old bird, aren't you, Arnie?'

Mr Pallfrey looks faintly embarrassed, and nods.

'Broken his elbow and his wrist, if I'm not mistaken. Must have gone down quite hard, banged his hip too, and they can be tricky. We're taking him to the General.'

'Is there anything you need, Mr Pallfrey? Would you like me to go home and pick up a few things for you?'

'Would you, dear, and could you ring my Christine? She's in Spain but I've got her mobile number in the book by the telephone. I'll give you the key.' He winces as he tries to reach for his pocket, and the ambulance man puts a rubber-gloved hand in and retrieves the keys for him.

'Here you go, love. Need a hand back up? Don't want to end up taking both of you in, do we? Not feeling any twinges, are you?'

'No, I'm fine, thanks.'

'Shock can be dangerous, you know. Long time since we delivered a baby be handy to get some practice in. Usually get in the papers if there's a baby putting in an appearance.' He's grinning, and I think this is all part of his upbeat banter. But it doesn't seem to be doing a great deal for Mr Pallfrey.

'I'm fine. I've got ages to go yet.'

'Well, you can't be too careful.'

The other ambulance man has wandered over now, holding a nylon bag.

'You don't want to listen to Dave. He likes to tout for extra business when we're out and about. Now then, Arnold, that's you sorted. Let's get you off to the hospital. I'll put the sirens on, if you like. No need, of course, but if you fancy it I'm game. What do you think?'

Mr Pallfrey smiles.

'So what are we doing with the dog then?' He looks at me.

Bugger.

'Shall I take him home with me?'

'Would you, dear? Only until I get home. I couldn't think who else to ask and he's so fond of you and your lads.'

'Of course, no problem. I'll see you later, and try not to worry, I'm sure it'll be okay.'

'I'm sure they won't keep me in.'

I bet they bloody will.

'Try to relax and I'll see you in a little bit.'

Betty walks back to the shop with me, with Trevor trotting along quite sedately, making the occasional lunge.

'Silly thing will pull you over in a minute as well.'

'Don't worry, Betty. We've got an understanding, haven't we, Trevor?' I yank on the lead.

'Walk, Trevor, or I'll sit on you, like last time, and I'm a lot heavier than I was then. Okay. Walk.'