aI had to tell her,a Naomi said, adidnat I?a Ben said nothing.

aI had to tell her you wanted me to move into a flat with you, didnat I?a aBut you hadnat said yesa"a aI had to tell her I was thinking about it. I had toa. She gave Ben a brief, withering glance. aI tell her everythinga. Ben gave a gusty sigh. aYouall have to move out one daya.

aWhy?a aWell, no one lives with their parents for ever. They canat. It isnat normala.

aAre you,a Naomi said sharply, acalling my mum and me not normal?a aNo, of course not, but youall get married one daya"a aNot to youa.

aAnd youall want a gaff of your own. Everyone does. I do. I want a place with youa.

Naomi lifted one bare arm and inspected its immaculate surface.

aI canat leave hera.

aWhat, never?a aSince Dad went off, itas just been me and her. Weave done finea. aI knowa.

aWeave done fine having you there. Sheas done a lot for you. Sheas made you welcomea.

Ben said, slightly shamefacedly, aI knowa. aItas not like your familya"a aI knowa.

aWe havenat got all that money, a big housea"a aI knowa.

aIam all sheas got, Bena.

Ben took off his beanie and scratched his head. He said, aDonat you want to live with me?a She gave a tiny shrug. aDonat knowa.

He said, with some energy, aI thought you liked mea.

aI doa.

aWell, thena.

Naomi put her arm down again and turned to face him for the first time.

aLiking someone isnat the same as living with them. Iave never lived with anyone except Mum. How do I know what itall be like, living with you?a Ben opened his mouth to say, cheekily, aSuck it and see,a and thought instantly better of it.

He said instead, aCome on, Naomi, you know what Iam likea.

aI know what youare like in my place. I donat know what youad be like in our own, without Mum therea.

He gave an exasperated little laugh.

aWell, how will you ever know if you wonat even try?a aI havenat said I wonat trya"a aWell, you havenat said you willa.

Naomi looked down at her white miniskirt, at the toes of her sharp white shoes.

She said, aWhy canat we go on as we are?a aBecausea"a aWell?a aBecause Iam getting a bit a" cramped in therea.

aCramped?a Ben rolled his beanie into a tube and beat lightly against his chest with it.

aI need a" to live without parents. Without anyoneas parentsa.

Naomi put her chin up.

aMumas my best frienda.

aSheas still your muma.

Naomi suddenly looked acutely miserable.

aI canat imagine being without hera"a Ben said slowly, aCould you imagine being without me?a She stared at him. aWhat dayou mean?a aI mean,a he said, athat if you canat leave your mum, and I canat stay at yours any more, would you choose your mum?a aYouare a bastard,a Naomi said.

aNo, Ia"a aYouare a selfish bastard. Youare a typical man, selfish bastarda"a He took a step forward and put his arms round her. She put her own arms up, elbows against his chest, and held him off. aGet off mea"a aI didnat mean it,a Ben said. aGet off!a aI didnat mean it. I shouldnat have said that. I shouldnat have asked you to choosea"a She relaxed a fraction.

aIam sorry,a Ben said.

She tipped her smooth fair head against him. aIam sorry,a Ben said again. aItas only because I like you. Itas only because I want to be alone with youa. Naomi snuffled faintly against his T-shirt. aItas got nothing to do with not liking your muma"a aOKa.

Ben bent his head so that he could see part of her profile.

He said, aI expect Iam a bit jealousa.

aOKa.

aIam sorry I started thisa. Naomi looked up. Ben looked at her mouth. She said in a whisper, aI donat know what Iall do about Muma"a He tightened his hold. aNothing for nowa. aSheall go sparea"a Ben looked up and across the road. A burger van was trundling slowly along Forest Road towards the turning to Shernhall Street.

He said, looking after it, aHungry?a Naomi sighed.

aStarvinga.

aBurger then?a She stirred in his arms, then began to straighten her clothes. He watched her brush imaginary specks off her tight little T-shirt.

aNo,a Naomi said, aIad really fancy a currya.

It had been a bad audience. From the moment she stepped on stage, Edie could tell that the audience was going to be unhelpful, was going to hold itself at a distance and need to be wooed. By the end of the first act, shead decided that it was not just unhelpful but obnoxious, laughing in all the wrong places, rustling and coughing. Shead wanted to lean over the footlights and suggest they all took themselves off to a nice easy musical instead.

aItas just as well,a she said to Lazlo on the journey home, athat audiences donat know the power they have. I was rubbish tonight because they were rubbisha.

Lazlo didnat argue. He sat hunched on the night bus beside her and stared at the painted metal ceiling.

aAre you tired?a He nodded.

aThatas what a bad audience does. Exhausts you, damn them, and all for nothinga.

When they reached the house, Lazlo didnat go upstairs, as he often did, but trailed into the kitchen behind her and leaned against the cupboards.

There was a note from Russell on the table.

aBed. Fuddleda.

Edie gave a little exclamation and dropped the note in the bin. She went over to the sink to fill the kettle.

aTea?a aActually,a Lazlo said, aIam a bit hungrya. There was a beat, and then Edie said, aYou know where the bread bin isa.

aYes,a Lazlo said. aSorrya.

aBread in the bin, eggs in the fridge, fruit in the bowla.

aYes,a Lazlo said.

She turned to look at him over her shoulder.

aWell?a He said sheepishly, aI donat know how to turn the cooker ona.

aGoddamnit,a Edie said, hunched theatrically over the kettle. aSorrya"a She turned round. aCan you scramble eggs?a aSort ofa"a She regarded him for a moment.

Then she said, sighing, aWell, I suppose thereas nobody to blame but myselfa. She looked round the kitchen and waved an arm expansively. aNobodyas cleared up in here, I shouldnat think anybodyas straightened the sitting room, I expect everybody has rolled upstairs and into beda"a aLook,a Lazlo said, aIall just have bread and cheesea. Edie rubbed her eyes.

aI shouldnat take a bad evening out on youa. aI donat minda"a aItas just,a she said, looking round, athat there seems to be more of everything than there was. More of everyone. And less of mea.

Lazlo began to move towards the fridge.

aWould you like a sandwich?a aNo thanksa.

aIall make a sandwich,a Lazlo said, aand take it up to my rooma.

Edie waited for her customary sandwich-making impulse to take over. It didnat. She thought of Russell asleep upstairs, of Matthew, of Rosa in Benas room with the door slightly, disconcertingly, open. All these images were, for some reason, only irritating.

She shook her head.

aSorry, Lazlo. Iave been really wrong-footed this eveninga.

He was laying slices of white bread out on the table in a long, even line.

He said, aIt doesnat matter. They were horriblea.

Edie moved two steps to give his shoulder a pat.

aIam going to watch television. Add rubbish to rubbisha.

aOKa"a aCan you turn the lights out?a aOf coursea.

aSorry,a Edie said again. Lazlo began to slice cheese. aNight, nighta.

He didnat look up. aNight,a he said.

Lazlo piled his sandwiches on a plate, filled a glass with milk, selected a banana and put it in his pocket. Then he dusted the crumbs off the table, put his spreading knife in the sink and looked around him. There were a number of things lying around that, had they been his, he would have arranged and ordered, but they were not his, they were Edieas and Russellas, and thus must be respectfully left where they were. As far as Lazlo could see, the first rule of etiquette about living in someone elseas house was to live in it as tracklessly as possible. Gratitude expressed in improvements, however minor, could so easily be interpreted as criticism.

Lazlo turned out the kitchen lights and carried his plate and glass across the hall. Edie had not closed the sitting-room door, and he could hear the squawk of the television. Arsie was sitting on the stairs, waiting for Edie. He did not acknowledge Lazlo, by the merest flicker, as he went past. The first-floor landing was in dimness. Russell and Edieas bedroom door closed, Rosaas slightly ajar, giving on to a deeper darkness. Lazlo didnat even glance towards that blackness, didnat let his imagination stray for one second to the image of Rosa lying asleep eight feet away, her red hair tossed on the pillow.

Matthew had, as usual, considerately left the light on, on the top landing. Lazlo stopped at the foot of the stairs, put down his plate and glass, and took his boots off, setting them to one side of the bottom step. Then he picked up his plate and glass again and went silently up the stairs in his socks. Matthewas door, also as usual, was closed. His was open. He bent, in the doorway, to set his glass down and free up one hand for the light switch and, as he stooped, he caught sight of something unusual about his bed. He put the sandwiches down too, and tiptoed a little closer. Rosa, fully dressed in jeans and a T-shirt, which had ridden up to expose a few inches of pale skin, was lying on his bed, on her back, fast asleep.

Lazlo moved quietly over to the wooden chair in the corner where he had hung his bath towel, lifted the towel up, and carried it across to drape carefully down Rosaas torso. She didnat stir. Then Lazlo stepped elaborately back across the carpet to where he had left his supper, and transferred it to a spot beside the small armchair, close to the head of the bed. He returned to the door to close it until only a narrow line of light fell into the room, and then he sat down in the chair, next to the sleeping Rosa, and began, as noiselessly as possible, to eat.

Chapter Fifteen.

Barneyas parents sent so many lilies to the hospital after their grandson was born that Kate had to ask the nurse on duty to put them outside the door.

aI canat breathe, with them in herea"a The nurse, who came from Belfast, said she quite agreed and anyway they reminded her of funerals.

aPeople get so overexcited about a baby. They just want to send the biggest thing they can finda.

Kate leaned cautiously sideways a" theyad given her a rubber ring to sit on, to ease the discomfort of the stitches a" and peered into the Perspex crib moored beside her bed. The baby, swaddled as neatly and tightly as a chrysalis, slept with newborn absorption.

aIam pretty overexcited myselfa.

The nurse paused, holding the lilies.

aYouave every right to be. Thatas a lovely babya.

aIam in love,a Kate said, aI know I am. Iave never felt like this before in my lifea.

aGive me babies for love any time,a the nurse said. aBabies donat let you down. And you know theyare going to get smartera.

aYou are amazing,a Kate said to the baby. aYou are the most amazing baby there ever wasa.

He slept on, wholly committed to his own fierce agenda of survival.

aWell,a the nurse said, aI think youave a visitora.

Kate turned awkwardly and looked over her shoulder. Rosa was standing in the doorway, holding a pineapple.

She gestured at the great vase of lilies in the nurseas hands.

aI thought you might have enough of thosea"a Kate abruptly felt rather tearful. She put an unsteady hand out.

aRosea"a Rosa put the pineapple down on the end of Kateas bed.

aTheyare supposed to symbolise hospitality. So I thought that might stretch to welcomea.

aOh Rose,a Kate said, sniffing, aheas so perfecta"a Rosa bent and kissed Kate. Then she moved round the bed and bent over the crib.