aYes, you have. On stagea.

aThat doesnat count and it isnat usually what youad choose, anywaya.

aRussell kisses youa"a aYes. But aa aDid you ring,a Vivien said, lowering her leg and raising the other, ato talk about kissing?a aNo. But I do rather wonder why youare seeing Max againa.

aSo do Ia.

aBut you like ita"a aYesa.

aWell, do it,a Edie said, and then, without a pause, aMattas coming homea.

aWhat?a aHeas broken up with Ruth and heas miserable and heas coming homea. Vivien let her leg fall.

aPoor boy. Was it about a flat? Rosa said somethinga"a aI had to shout at Russell,a Edie said. aHe thinks you spoil children if you help them. Or at least, thatas what he says he thinksa.

aThirty per cent of people between twenty-four and thirty still live at homea"a aHow do you know?a aI read it somewherea.

aExcellent,a Edie said, aIall tell Russell. If he goes on like heas going on, heall make Matt feel a freak. Do you think I should buy a double bed?a aDonat you have one?a aFor Matthew!a Edie shouted.

aWhy?a aWell, they all sleep in big beds now. Everyone. Nobody over ten has a single beda.

aBut if Matthew hasnat got Ruth,a Vivien said, awho will he put in it?a aSomeone else, I hope. Someone who doesnat put her ambition firsta. aI thought you liked Rutha"a aI did. I do. We got on famously. But I want to kill her for hurting Matthewa.

Vivien turned on her side. She could, from this angle, see herself in the full-length mirror on the back of the door to her bathroom. It wasnat a bad angle, in fact, nice curves of hip and shoulder, good ankles, far enough away not to see what happened to bosoms when collapsed sideways.

She said, aShall I tell Rosa?a aNo thank you,a Edie said. aIall tell Rosa. Iall ring her at worka.

aSheas going out with someone after worka"a aWho?a aI do not know,a Vivien said in a voice that implied the opposite.

aVivia"a aRosa here,a Vivien said, aMatt back with you. At least Benas holding outa. aTrust youa.

Vivien rearranged her legs at a better angle. aPoor old Russell,a she said.

Rosa much regretted having asked Lazlo to have a drink with her. She knew she shouldnat have, for the simple reason that she didnat really want to, but there was something about supper the other night, and the Cheryl Smith person flirting with her father, and excluding her from conversations with her mother and Lazlo by constantly referring to their rehearsals together, that had compelled her to say, in Cherylas hearing at the end of the evening, to Lazlo, aWhat about a drink on Wednesday?a Head hesitated.

aWednesdaya"a aIam afraid,a Rosa said, aitas the only night I can managea.

aYou arenat rehearsing,a Cheryl said to Lazlo. aNot Wednesdaya. She glanced at Rosa. aYou could go wild on Wednesdaya.

Lazlo nodded.

aThank you. Iad like ita.

So here she was, in the refurbished bar of a central hotel, sitting on a black leather stool with her elbows on a tall metal table, waiting for Lazlo. Edie had not heard them make the arrangements, and Rosa had said nothing on the subject. She hoped that Lazlo, despite his puppylike devotion to Edie, hadnat said anything, either. She wanted to have one drink, and leave, and somehow make it not at all possible for him to suggest either another one, or another meeting. After head told her he thought she was spoilt, it was difficult to think of him without dislike, but also, rather disconcertingly, without feeling distinctly interested. It was awful, really, what flashes of temper compelled you to do, flashes of temper induced by seeing other people apparently more at home with your parents than you were yourself.

She saw Lazlo before he saw her. He was in black, with a brilliant turquoise-blue scarf looped round his neck, and for a moment, she thought a" indignantly, as if he had no business to be so a" that he looked almost attractive. She waved. It took him some time to see her and when he did, he only gave the smallest of smiles.

aI hope you havenat been waitinga"a She indicated her glass.

aI needed a drinka.

He dropped a black canvas rucksack under the metal table.

aCan I get you another?a aThanks,a Rosa said. aVodka and tonica.

He nodded and went off to the bar. She wondered if he had enough money to pay for their drinks and then reflected, rather grimly, that she hardly had, either. But Lazlo would be on the minimum Equity wage, and as he wouldnat, like everyone else, be legally entitled to an adult wage until he was twenty-five, that would be the barest minimum.

When he came back with her vodka and a bottle of beer, she said, rather shortly, aSorry. I should have paid for thosea.

aNo, you shouldnata.

aI asked you for a drinka.

He shrugged.

She added, aAnd now youall think Iam even more spoilta. He hitched himself on to the stool opposite her. He said quietly, aIt wasnat about that. I shouldnat have said it anywaya.

aWhy not, if itas true?a He picked up his beer bottle.

aIt isnat the kind of thing you ought to say to anyone twenty minutes after meeting thema.

aOK,a Rosa said. She raised her glass. aCheersa. He tipped his bottle towards her. She said, aWell, what did you mean?a aPlease forget ita"a aI meant not to mention it but now I have and Iad like an answer. What did you mean?a He hunched forward over the table. He looked weirdly glamorous. Perhaps it was the exoticism of the scarf. It was made of silk, the kind of rough silk that came from somewhere in the Far East.

aIad really rathera"a aLazlo,a Rosa said, apleasea. He gave her a quick glance.

aWell, I suppose I just thought you a" you gave the impression of taking things for granteda.

aWhat things?a He shrugged.

Your mother. Your parents. Having a home, somewhere to go toa.

Rosa put her hands in her lap. She looked directly at him.

aHavenat you?a aNot really. Not like thata.

aHavenat you got parents?a aMy father lives in Arizona. My mother married a Russian and they have two children and live in Paris. My sister is a medical student, nearly a doctor, and she lives in hospital accommodationa.

aAnd you?a Lazlo looked sheepish.

aThis is turning into a sort of pathetic Dickens-style sob storya"a aWhere do you live?a Rosa said. aIn a rooma"a aWhere?a aMaida Valea. aWell, thatasa"a aKilburn, actually,a Lazlo said. aIn a room in a house belonging to my sisteras ex-boyfriendas grandmothera. Rosa leaned forward.

aWhy?a aBecause she charges me almost nothing because she likes having a man in the house. Sheas panicked about securitya.

aIs it awful?a Lazlo was silent. aDepressing?a Rosa said.

aWell,a Lazlo said, aI donat have hang-ups about old people, but this is pretty extreme. She wonat ever open the windowsa.

Rosa took a swallow of her drink.

aDoes it smell?a Lazlo nodded.

aSo when this play is on, youall be travelling from Kilburn to Islington?a aLots of people do,a Lazlo said. aTheatre people all have to live in awkward placesa.

aTheatre people,a Rosa said mockingly.

He flushed.

aI am one,a he said, aIam an actor. So is your mother. I donat know why you feel the need to sneera. aIam not sneeringa"a aWell, thatas what it sounds likea. aSorrya.

aOKa.

aI am sorry,a Rosa said. aTrulya.

Lazlo said nothing.

aPlease,a Rosa said, aI am truly sorrya.

He looked up slowly.

aI believe in it,a he said.

aThe theatre?a aIn acting,a Lazlo said seriously. aIn a" in its radiant energy. In being possessed, and passionate, yet still yourself after a performance. I like having to concentrate this way, I like having chosen something so difficult it makes me display fortitudea.

aWell,a Rosa said, aI certainly hadnat thought of any of thata.

aYou didnat listen to your mothera.

aMy mother never said anything like that in all her lifea.

aShe didnat need to,a Lazlo said vehemently. aShe didnat need to say it. If youad ever taken her acting seriously, youad have seen ita.

Rosa said nothing. She fidgeted with her glass. Rising up in her, unwanted but not to be denied, was a peculiar wish to say sorry again somehow, to show herself in a better light.

She said slowly, aYour room. Your room in Kilburna"a He looked irritated, as if dragged back to banality from something much more compelling and important.

aWhat about it?a aHave you told my mother?a aWhat?a aHave you told my mother,a Rosa said, aabout how you have to live?a

Chapter Ten.

aI hope youall be comfortable,a Russell said from the doorway.

Matthew was standing by the window of his old bedroom, looking down into the garden. His cases, all very orderly, were on the floor. He had his hands in his pockets and the set of his shoulders from behind was not one that Russell could deduce anything from.

He looked at the walls. Edie had not removed a single childhood picture.

aOf course,a Russell said, ayou can change anything you want to. No need to live with Manchester United 1990a.

Matthew said, without turning, aI donat minda.

Russell said, aI am so very sorry about whatas happeneda.

aThanksa.

aAnything we cana"a aItas much harder than I thought itad be,a Matthew said. aEmptiera.

aYesa.

Matthew turned. He looked as if he hadnat slept for days.

aWhen you go back somewhere, itas not the samea"a aOr perhaps,a Russell said, ayou arenata. Matthew looked at the bed. aI havenat slept in that for nearly seven yearsa. Russell moved into the room and put his hands on Matthewas shoulders.

aPoor Matthew. Poor old mana"a Matthew shook his head. aItas not that Iam not gratefula"a aI knowa.

aI just feel a" such a bloody failurea"a aTry not to. Things are much harder nowa.

aAre they?a aI think so. We were stifled by too little choice, you are panicked by too mucha. Matthew looked round the room. Russell said gently, aYou donat want to be herea"a aI thought I dida.

aMaybe it wonat be for long. You have a job, after alla. Matthew nodded. He pulled a face. aFlat sharinga"a aPerhapsa.

aHard,a Matthew said, ato go back toa. aHarder than this?a Matthew nodded. aFor the momenta.

Russell took his hands away. He said, aSorry, old son, but we do have to talk about moneya. Matthew looked puzzled. aMoneya.

aWell,a Russell said, aas you say, coming back somewhere is never the same as when you were first there. Coming back home as a salaried twenty-eight-year-old isnat the same as living at home as a studenta.

Matthew took a step backwards.

aI thought,a Russell said, athat you and Mum had discussed ita.

aNoa. aWella"a aI see,a Matthew said, aI see. Of course I do. I was just a bit taken abacka"a aTo have me mention it?a aWell,a Matthew said uncomfortably, amaybe mention it even before Iad opened a suitcasea. Russell sighed.

aLike all awkward topics, I want to get it over witha.

aYou doa"a aYesa.

aCouldnat you have waited,a Matthew said, slightly desperately, auntil we were having a beer or something?a Russell sighed again.

aAll right,a he said, aletas postpone the topic until later. Stupid me. As usuala.

Matthew bent to retrieve a chequebook from his briefcase.

aNo, Dad. The subjectas broached now. Why donat I write you a cheque for the first month?a aMatt, I really didnata"a aWhat dayou want?a Matthew demanded. He looked suddenly rather feverish. aTwo hundred pounds a month? Two hundred and fifty? Three hundred?a aDonat bea"a aAll in?a Matthew almost shouted. aTwo hundred and fifty all in and do my own ironing?a Russell shut his eyes.