aDoes she come into your room and sit on your bed and tell you all about it?a aNo, thank youa.

Kate reached awkwardly behind her, for her jacket.

aI ought to goa"a aSuppera"a aWell, Barneyas cooking,a Kate said, abut he does quite like to be admireda.

Rosa leaned back, holding her glass.

aThere you go,a she said with satisfaction. aThereas always a price to paya.

The door to Benas bedroom on the first-floor landing was open. Through it, on the bed, Russell could see a pile of cushions that looked familiar but out of context and a mauve felt elephant and a lampshade made of strings of pink glass beads. He moved closer. On the floor by Benas bed was an old white numdah rug, appliqud with nave animals and flowers, which he recognised as the rug he and Edie had given Rosa when she was five, as a reward for stopping sucking her thumb. Now that he looked at them with more attention, he saw that the cushions a" Indian brocade, Thai spangles a" and the lampshade were also familiar from Rosaas room, as was the elephant and a mirror edged with pearly shells and a gauze sari which, at one point, Rosa had pinned clumsily to the ceiling over her bed to try and create some kind of exotic canopy.

Russell went out of Benas room and up the stairs to the top floor. The door to Matthewas room was closed but the one to Rosaas room, next door, was open, almost defiantly wide open, Russell thought, as if to make an emphatic point. Through it, he could see that although the furniture in Rosaas room hadnat been moved, the atmosphere had been definitely changed. There was a plaid rug on the bed, new dark-blue shades on the lamps, and the chest of drawers, which had always displayed Rosaas childhood collection of china shoes and thimbles, was empty except for a black-framed mirror propped against the wall. Edie had taken all the girl she could find out of the room and replaced it with boy. And she had done this for the benefit of someone Russell hardly knew, who appeared quite homeless and therefore liable to stay indefinitely, and who was not just homeless but penniless also, so Edie was only asking him to pay forty pounds a week, which had infuriated Matthew a" who was their own son and paying almost twice that a" as well it might.

Russell walked into Rosaas room and sat down on the edge of the bed. He put his elbows on his knees and leaned forward to stare at the carpet and a new, modern, striped cotton rug that had been laid on it. He had always, he told himself, liked the challenging quality in Edieas nature, he enjoyed the way she wouldnat take any form of rubbish lying down, the way she rose up to argue and rebel. But what was likeable, lovable even, in someone as a spectator sport wasnat always as pleasurable, or even bearable, when oneas own feelings were involved. He couldnat, in principle, object to her offering shelter to her own, or anyone elseas, child in trouble, but the difficulty was that he couldnat be sure that filling the house up with young men, at this precise moment in time, was actually an act of altruism. The more he thought about it, the more he felt that not only was Edie asserting a right to use her house as she pleased, but that she was also making it painfully plain that the last thing she wanted was to be left alone in it with him.

Russell shifted his feet. He couldnat remember when he had started looking forward to being alone with Edie, but it seemed to be a very long time ago. As each of his children left, he had felt an unmistakable pang, and he had also missed them, missed them, sometimes, quite keenly. But at the same time as those doors were closing, he had had a happy, anticipatory feeling about another one opening, one that led back, or perhaps led on to the relationship that had started it all, the relationship with the short, excitable girl in a cherry-coloured beret who head first seen queuing for cinema tickets to see High Society with Bing Crosby and Frank Sinatra and Grace Kelly in a chignon.

And if that feeling wasnat reciprocated, if Edie could no longer quite stand the thought of being left alone with him, then at best he was very disappointed and at worst he was very hurt. He also felt, looking round at the walls denuded of Rosaas posters and pictures, peculiarly powerless. Edie had set something firmly in train, which, if he disrupted it, would only make him look an unpleasant and heartless person.

He got up, sighing, and went over to the window. The garden, from up here, looked pleasingly controlled and almost cared for. Neither he nor Edie had ever been enthusiastic gardeners but it was odd how, over the years, if you owned a garden you somehow acquired some knowledge about it by osmosis, and fell into the annual rituals of sowing and pruning and clipping. If he was honest, head actually indulged in a little fantasy or two about Edie and him being out in the garden together that summer, companionably trimming things or drinking wine under the torn garden umbrella. Like all fantasies, he supposed, that one owed its only existence to impossibility, but it had been nice to contemplate, even more than nice, when the reality was that Edie would now be too preoccupied even to consider tranquil moments, glass in hand, admiring the roses. He shook his head. What was he thinking of, sad old fool that he was? When the playas run began, Edie wouldnat be looking to right or to left, let alone at the roses.

He moved slowly back, past Rosaas bed all ready for Lazlo, and out on to the landing. The brown stain left by a long-ago waspas nest under the roof tiles was still there on the once-white ceiling, as was the split in the top step of the stair carpet and the missing knob to the newel post at the turn of the banisters. Doubtless, Russell thought, there were people who made lists of things to be repaired in their houses, and then attended to those lists with efficient toolboxes filled with the right tools for every job in special compartments, but if so he definitely wasnat one of them. His mother had always told him, finding him reading as a child yet again, that he was lazy. Possibly she was right and would therefore be amazed to know that at the age of fifty-six and faced with a situation in his personal life he could neither control nor adjust to he was resolving to devote all the energies he had planned to use for a renewed life with Edie to his work.

When Max finally kissed Vivien, she had been ready for both him and it. The steady succession of dates, the careful way in which he had refrained from startling her, the new gravity of his goodbyes had made it absolutely plain to her that when he kissed her it would not be on impulse and therefore, if she had a single wit about her, she could see it coming. And so, when he stopped the car outside her house, and switched off the ignition and turned towards her, she was very excited and quite prepared. The kiss itself was possibly one of the best he had ever given her, being both familiar because of the past and unfamiliar because it hadnat happened for well over four years. She received it with skill and just enough response to engage him. Then she got out of the car.

He got out too.

aCan I come in?a Vivien looked up at her house. Rosaas bedroom window, above the front door, was still lit.

aNo, Maxa.

Max looked up too.

aVivia"a She reached out a hand and laid it flat on his chest.

aNo, Max. Not nowa.

He seized her hand in both his.

aBut will you think about it?a aYesa.

aPromise, Vivi, promise. And I promise itall be differenta.

She disengaged her hand and took a step away.

aI said Iad think about it, Max,a she said, aand I will. Thank you for a lovely evening,a and then she stepped away from him in her heels and crossed her little front garden to the door. When she turned to wave goodnight he was standing staring after her in a way she had never dared to hope he would again.

Inside the house, Rosa had left the hall light on and a note by the telephone that said, aAlison rang. Can you do Tues p.m., not Wed, this week?a and underneath, aWill take washing out of machine first thing, promise. Xa. Vivien went past the telephone table and down the hall to the kitchen, which Rosa had left approximately tidy in the way Edie always left things tidy, with none of the finishing details attended to and no air of conclusion. Most nights, she would have spent ten minutes brushing up crumbs and putting stray mugs in the dishwasher, but tonight, in her mood of command and composure, she merely filled a glass with water, switched off the lights and made her way carefully upstairs.

There was a line of light still, under Rosaas door. Vivien hesitated a moment and then knocked.

aCome!a Rosa called.

She was sitting up in bed in a pink camisole, reading Hello! magazine. Her hair, newly washed, was fanned out over her shoulders.

aYou do have lovely hair,a Vivien said.

Rosa smiled at her over the magazine.

aAnd you plainly had a lovely eveninga.

Vivien hitched her cream wrap over her shoulders and settled on the edge of Rosaas bed, cradling her glass of water.

aFusion tonight. Sea bass and curried lentilsa. aAnd champagne?a aOh yes,a Vivien said, smiling, aalways champagnea. Rosa put down the magazine. aYouare costing him a fortunea. Vivien nodded. aOh, I should hope soa"a aIs this payback time now, then?a aOh no,a Vivien said, aitas just that a man like Max only understands value for money as exactly that. Thatas why he never minded me being so literala. She looked at the magazine. aHave you had a nice evening?a aNo,a Rosa said, abut thatas not what I want to talk about. I want to hear about yoursa.

Vivien took a savouring swallow of water.

She said, artlessly, aWell, it was just dinner, you knowa"a aJust dinner,a Rosa said. aSo why come and tell me about it? You donat usuallya.

Vivien looked away across the room as if she were either visualising or remembering something particularly satisfying.

aI think,a she said, still gazing, athat Max hasnat found the bachelor life all he thought it would bea.

Rosa waited. Vivien slowly retrieved her gaze and transferred it to her glass of water.

aAll those girls of his, even the working ones, well they do seem very interested in what he earnsa"a Rosa said nothing.

aMax says that none of them was prepared to look after him in any way, but at the same time they wanted him to look after them; oh yes, holidays and meals out and Centre Court tickets at Wimbledon. He said they almost made it sound like they were entitled to be treated like thata.

Rosa leaned back against her pillows.

She murmured, aHow very shockinga"a aWell,a Vivien said, aitas not the way your mother and I were brought up. You never expected a man to treat you like a princess and then all he expected really was to be allowed a bit of sex in returna.

aReally?a aIt wasnat take, take, take, with us,a Vivien said. aWe were brought up to keep house and put food on the tablea.

aI thought,a Rosa said slowly, athat one of the troubles with Max was that he never came home to eat the food youad put on the tablea.

Vivien raised her eyes and looked seriously at Rosa.

aHeas changed,a she said.

aI saw him out of the window when he came to collect you, and he looked exactly the samea"a aHeas changed,a Vivien said. aInsidea.

aOha.

aHe knows how badly he behaved. He knows he exploited me. He knows that almost nobody would have put up with him the way I dida.

Rosa sat up suddenly.

aOh Vivi. Oh Vivi, do be carefula"a Vivien smiled at her.

aHeas learnt so much in the last four years,a she said. aHeas been so unhappy and heas missed me so badly and our life togethera. She let a small, eloquent pause elapse and then she said, aThatas why he wants to come and live with me, and try againa.

Chapter Twelve.

Lazlo was being very quiet. Lying on his bed against the wall between their bedrooms, Matthew wondered if he was sitting staring into space like a petrified rabbit or earnestly reading the Theban plays in his pursuit of true professionalism. He was a nice enough guy, Matthew thought, even if slightly geeky, and obviously pathetically grateful to be in Rosaas room after his months of confinement among the cat-litter trays in Kilburn. His pathos made Matthew regret his outburst over money. He shouldnat have done it, he shouldnat have shouted at his father for asking for money or his mother for not asking Lazlo for more. You only had to look at Lazlo to be reminded of some student character out of Dostoyevsky, all skin and bone and burning passion, and not a penny to his name.

He shifted a little on his pillow. All those years of living a wall away from Rosa meant that every creak and thump from the other side was familiar, as was the fact that the closer to the window you moved the more audible sounds became. Rosa, of course, was something of a banger and crasher, flinging drawers shut and slamming doors. Lazlo on the other hand made no sound at all, as if elaborately tiptoeing about, closing cupboards with stealth, inching himself on to his bed with his breath held. It was, Matthew supposed, rather like starting at boarding school, where he had never been, but which must be plagued by the consciousness of the nearness of strangers. He lifted his fist and held it up in the dusky late-spring dark. If he swung it sideways, he could thump the wall and imagine Lazlo starting up, gasping, dropping his book. It would be a childish thing to do, of course it would, but perhaps childishness was what descended on you when you found yourself back in your boyhood bedroom after years a" yes, years a" of living independently.

He lowered his fist and laid his hand across his chest.

aCome back,a Ruth had said the other night. aPlease. Come backa.

Shead been in bed with him, or he with her, whichever, theyad been in her bed a" their old joint bed a" in her new bedroom, where head never intended to be, where he wasnat drunk enough or convinced enough to be, but where he somehow still was, holding her, with her head roughly where his hand now was, and her saying, almost into his skin, aPlease come back. Pleasea.

Head stroked her hair back from her face, saying nothing. After a while, she raised herself on one elbow and said, aDonat you love me any more?a and he said, truthfully, aOf course I do, but that doesnat solve everything,a and she said, aIt does, it can,a and he said, tiredly, aWeave been through this. Weave been through all this, over and overa.

aBut you came tonight,a Ruth said. aYouave made love to mea.

He couldnat say it didnat mean anything because that was neither true nor constructive. Of course going to bed with Ruth was significant, even important, but at the same time he hadnat meant it to happen, hadnat wanted it to happen, and now that it had, he was filled with a dreary desolation. He had only made things worse. He had only made Ruth hope again for something that couldnat happen because it was too messy and too insoluble and, above all, too late.

Head kissed the top of Ruthas head and squeezed her bare shoulders and then began to disengage himself as gently as he could. Head waited for her to start crying but she hadnat, merely remaining where head left her, crumpled and silent, a picture of misery and reproach. Once dressed, he stood in the doorway of the bedroom and wrestled with what he might say. Sorry was pathetic, thank you for dinner was ludicrous, I love you was unkind and dangerous. In the end he simply said, aBye,a and went out of the flat and into the lift, and leaned against the wall of it with his eyes closed. How was it possible to get, entirely without intending to, into a position where you kept somehow inflicting pain on someone you loved? When she had rung him and begged a" awful, mortifying word, but accurate for how shead sounded a" him to come round for supper, it had seemed more difficult and elaborate to refuse her than to agree. And then he had ended up making things worse than he had ever intended, concluding by responding to some primitive urge to flee that had got him out of the flat and down to London Bridge Underground Station and then left him to trail back to North London cursing himself.

From next door came the sound of Lazlo opening his window. Matthew imagined him leaning out, breathing, marvelling at where he found himself. Perhaps he was feeling as Matthew had felt before he met Ruth, both luxuriously free and equally luxuriously lonely. Matthew turned on his side, and punched his pillow up under his neck. If you couldnat just un-love someone, he thought, perhaps you could at least starve that love a bit, practise not allowing yourself to express it or react to its impulses. He shut his eyes. No calls from now on. No emails. No contact. Nothing.

aWe have six days,a Freddie Cass said, auntil press night. And I am far from happy with this scenea.

Edie did not look either at Lazlo or at Cheryl. Cheryl was probably, anyway, looking as if any imminent reprimand had nothing to do with her, and Lazlo would be expecting the worst.

aDonat strut, Cheryl,a Freddie Cass said. There was a pause. Then he said, aDonat bleat, Lazloa. And then, after another silence, aGood, Ediea.

aIam supposed to strut,a Cheryl said, boredly, ain this scenea.

Freddie ignored her.

He said to Lazlo, aYouall be blind by the end of the scene. Blind. Whoall care about that if theyave heard you whining for favours?a Lazlo cleared his throat. Edie willed him not to apologise.

He said, aI am whining. Iam very unattractive by now. Iam completely self-centred because Iam dyinga.

Freddie Cass waited. Edie glanced at him. He wasnat looking at Lazlo, as was his wont when addressing someone, he was looking across the stage to where an electrician was dismantling a spotlight.

aIam not getting thata.

aIall try againa.

aYes,a Freddie said, ayou willa. He sighed. aAnd you, Cheryl, will stop playing the little tart. Even if you are onea. He moved forward, towards the footlights, and touched Edie on the shoulder as he passed. aAs you werea.

Edie went past Lazlo, upstage to the spot where the door to the garden would be when the set was up. Lazlo caught her eye as she passed him and gave her the briefest of winks. She widened her eyes at him. He looked quite undismayed by what Freddie had said, quite unlike his usual easily wounded self. He looked, astonishingly, like someone prepared to stand their ground. Perhaps, she thought, picking up the shallow flower basket that Mrs Alving was to bring in from the garden, this new energy and confidence could even be attributable to the simple fact that she had offered breakfast to Lazlo that morning and then overseen him while he ate it. He ate like Ben, with that peculiar combination of indifference and absorption that seemed to characterise hungry young men, consuming two bowls of cereal and a banana and four slices of toast as if they were simultaneously vital and of no consequence at all. Shead felt an extraordinary satisfaction, almost a relief, sitting opposite him with her coffee mug, and watching him eat. It had been so pleasurable that she had turned to Russell, to smile that pleasure at him, and found that he was reading the paper like someone in a pantomime, with the paper held up high, a screen against the outside world.

She reached across and banged the paper with a teaspoon.

aOya.

aOne moment,a Russell said, not lowering the paper. aRude,a Edie said cheerfully. aMeals are for conversationa.

Russell moved the paper sideways so that only Edie could see his face. aNot breakfasta.

Lazlo put his second piece of toast down. aSorry,a he said contritely. Edie smiled at him. aNot you,a she said, ahima.

Russell moved the paper back to its original position.

aIf you ever marry,a he said, not addressing Lazlo by name, ayouall discover that all roads of fault and blame lead to ahimaa.

Edie put her coffee mug down. She looked at Lazlo.

aMore toast?a aNo thank you,a Russell said.

aI wasnat addressing you. You have only had one slice of toast since the dawn of time. Lazlo, more toast?a He looked longingly at the sliced loaf on the counter.

aCould I aa Edie stood up.

aOf course you coulda.

Russell shook the paper out like a bed sheet, and folded it with care.

aIam offa.

Edie, putting bread into the toaster, turned to glance at the clock. aYouare earlya.

aNoa.

aYou never get in before tena.

Russell said nothing. He stood up and pushed the newspaper across the table to Lazlo. aHave a good daya. aThank youa.

He looked briefly across the kitchen, at Edieas back. aSee you latera.

She turned and gave him a wide smile. Then she blew him a kiss. He went out of the room, and they could hear him treading heavily up the stairs to the bathroom.

aIf it would be easier,a Lazlo said diffidently, aI could always take breakfast up to my rooma.

The toaster gave a small metallic clang and ejected two slices of toast on to the counter. Edie snatched them up and tossed them hastily on to Lazloas plate.