aI just wanted to say somethinga"a Edie went on blending make-up down over her jawline. She didnat glance at Lazloas reflection, standing behind her and looking directly at her in the mirror.

aYou know I donat like distracting conversations before a showa.

Lazlo said tiredly, aThere isnat a perfect moment. This hardly suits me eithera.

Edie flicked a glance upwards. Lazloas expression was one of weary determination, rather than anxiety.

She said, aSo?a aIam moving out,a Lazlo said. aYouave been wonderfully kind and I am truly grateful, but it isnat working any morea.

Edie gave a little gasp and put her make-up stick down. aPlease donata.

aIf I go,a Lazlo said patiently, aRosa and Ben can have their rooms back. Itas what you all needa. Edie swivelled round from the mirror. aYou mustnata.

aMustnat?a Edie said unsteadily, aIad feel such a failurea"a Theread been a small silence and then Lazlo said gently, aIam afraid I canat help thata.

aI wanted it to work,a Edie said. aI wanted everyone to feel they had a homea. She looked away and then she said sadly, aI wanted to give you all a homea.

aYou dida.

Edie turned back to the mirror and picked up her make-up again. aBut on my termsa. Lazlo said nothing.

aAnd of course,a Edie said, ayouare all too old for that. And so am Ia. She glanced up at Lazloas reflection. aPlease donat go just yeta.

He smiled.

He said, aIall let you know when Iave found somewhere,a and then he leaned forward and put a hand on Edieas shoulder and said in Osvald Alvingas voice, aYouave managed without me, Mother, all this time!a Edie had nodded. Shead put her own hand up to touch his briefly and then head gone out of the room and she didnat see him again until they were on stage together, where their familiar dynamic seemed to have transformed itself into something altogether more fragile and fevered.

Now, sitting on the sofa among Benas possessions, fragile was what Edie chiefly felt, fragile and vulnerable and uncertain.

She looked across at the armchair, where she had flung the telephone. Perhaps she would ring Vivien. Vivien wouldnat be any use of course and naturally Edie wouldnat confide to her the present turmoil of her feelings, but all the same, there seemed to be a most pressing need to talk to someone and, at the very least, Vivien would do.

aIs this too noisy for him?a Rosa said.

Kate peered into the baby car seat she had laid on the empty restaurant chair next to her.

aHeas asleepa.

aItas terribly clatterya"a aHeas got to learn to sleep through it. Heas got to learn to sleep through everything I do because heas coming with me everywhere I go. For evera.

aEven back to work?a Kate closed her eyes briefly.

aPlease donat talk about ita.

aAnd you intend him to be the first grown man called Baby?a Kate picked up a menu and studied it. aHeas called Finlaya. aBut you arenat a Scota"a aBarney isa.

aNo, he isnat. Heas the most blah-blah Englisha"a aHis family are Scottish,a Kate said, aand this baby is called Finlaya.

aAnd by Barney?a aBarney calls him George. He tells everyone heas called George. He told Rutha"a aRuth?a Kate gave a sharp little intake of breath.

Then she said, aWhat day is it?a aWhat does that matter?a aWhat day is it?a aThursday,a Rosa said. aKatea"a Kate said hurriedly, aThatas OK then. Sheall have told him by nowa.

Rosa twitched the menu out of Kateas hands.

aTell mea. aGuessa.

aI donat want to guess. Tell mea.

Kate put her hands flat on the table.

aRuth came to see us last week. To see the baby. Bringing presents and stuff, one of those incredibly expensive baby suits that babies are always immediately sick ona"a aGo ona.

aAnd she seemed rather agitated and wound up and she cried when she saw Finlay and I asked her what the matter was anda"a aSheas pregnant,a Rosa said.

Kate regarded her.

aYesa.

aWhy didnat you tell me?a aI couldnat. She made me promise. Until she told Matthewa.

aWhen was she telling Matthew?a aEarly this weeka.

Rosa looked away.

She said, aI havenat seen Matthewa.

aHavenat you?a aI never do. We live in the same house and, apart from hearing him thumping about over my head, we might as well not be. Itas as if weare all steering round each other because if we donat weall rowa. She stopped and then she said, in a different voice, aPoor Matt. Heas been so downa"a Kate leaned forward.

aWhatall this do?a Rosa swung her head back to look at Kate. aI donat knowa. aMake or break?a aI donat knowa.

aYouad think,a Kate said, ain this day and age, we could at least get contraception right, wouldnat you? First me, now Rutha"a Rosa leaned sideways and looked down at the baby. aRuth of all peoplea"a aYesa.

aI wonder if Mum knowsa.

aWhatall she say?a Rosa put out a hand and laid it on the baby. aCanat tell. Sheas all over the place at the moment. Itas -well, itas a nightmare at home at the momenta.

aIs it?a aYes,a Rosa said. She straightened up, and then she said, with a small, private smile, aBut rather interesting, tooa.

Kate waited.

Rosa went on smiling to herself. Kate said crossly, aWell, go ona. aYou can guessa.

aSomething happening? Between you and Lazlo?a aNot a" exactlya.

aWell, thena"a aBut,a Rosa said, aIad quite like it toa. aIam surpriseda.

aSo am Ia.

aI thought he was geekya.

aHe is rather. Buta"a She stopped.

Kate looked at her.

aI seea.

Rosa looked back.

aKate, what about Matthew?a aThatas all about to be common knowledge, isnat it?a aDayou know,a Rosa said, moving about the knife and fork at her place, aonce Iad have hit the telephone. Once Iad have immediately rushed round to Dadas office and rung Mum and texted Ben and generally gone into overdrive. But I donat want to now. I donat remotely feel like ita.

aWhat do you feel then?a aSad,a Rosa said.

aSad?a aYes,a Rosa said. She looked down at Finlay again. aYes. Sad. Sad that if itas a baby, it had to be this waya.

aCome on,a Kate said vehemently. The baby wonat know!a aNo,a Rosa said. She picked up the menu again and held it out towards Kate, aBut we will. Wonat we?a * * *

The afternoon in the bookshop seemed to Vivien to be taking an unusually long time. It was the end of summer after all, so customers werenat coming in for those optimistic stacks of paperbacks to take on holiday but, all the same, the few people who did come in seemed to be passing time rather than buying a book and Vivien watched them with irritation as they drifted idly about, fingering books they would never buy and infecting her with their mild restlessness. She had taken advantage of Alisonas absence to straighten things up a bit, sort the slew of scraps of paper by the till, realign the table of summer novels, but that was all that was possible really. Alison didnat like her actually doing housework if she was the only person in the shop: she said it was off-putting for customers to be dusted round, made them feel that they were somehow an intrusion. She liked Vivien, if not actually helping a customer, to sit by the till lightly engaged in a task that could obviously be easily set aside. Alison herself was a knitter, great scarves and sweaters in the patterns and colours of the Andes, and she would have preferred Vivien to find herself some equally encouraging-looking, unthreatening occupation. Vivienas propensity for tidying, though undeniably useful, could too easily be interpreted, by anyone sensitive to atmosphere, as taking precedence over the mild disorder created by the necessary process of commerce.

Vivien had taken up her position next to the rack of birthday cards. These were haphazardly arranged with no particular thought given to sequences of price or size, and it was harmless enough, Vivien thought, to separate the reproductions of Jack Vettriano paintings from black-and-white art photographs of elephants or kittens. The card rack also gave her a good view of the shop, which contained, at that moment, a young mother with a toddler in a buggy looking at board books, and a man in a faded gingham shirt browsing in biography.

It was not the sort of shirt, Vivien reflected, that Max would wear. If Max wore gingham at all, it would be very new and either navy blue or pale pink. It was odd, really, to be so familiar, all over again, with Maxas shirts, especially as a" Max being Max and something of a shopper when it came to clothes a" most of those shirts were new to her, and acquired in that peculiar space of time when she had been excluded from knowing any details of his personal life. And in those four years, Max had, sartorially speaking, started again. His taste might not have changed, but his wardrobe had and Vivien found it was very difficult sometimes to launder with equanimity garments that had plainly been to exotic places with women who were not her. A T-shirt printed with the logo of a luxurious hotel in Cyprus, and a Malaysian sarong had already gone in the bin rather than the washing machine and Vivien couldnat decide whether it was a comfort to her or not that Max hadnat commented on their disappearance.

But then, Max was being very careful not to allude to his bachelor days unless it was to say something dismissive. Head been to Jersey on business the week before, staying in a hotel head stayed at previously and, Vivien suspected, not alone, and had arrived home a night early, claiming that the whole place was depressing and all he wanted was to be home again.

aBad memories,a Vivien said, putting a glass of whisky down in front of him.

He blew her a kiss.

aHorrible,a he said.

The man in the gingham shirt approached the till and slowly laid down a large single-volume life of Napoleon.

aPlease,a he said, over his shoulder.

Vivien slipped the card she was holding into a slot and hurried across. The man, staring dreamily into the space behind the till, was holding out his credit card. As she reached to take it, her mobile phone, in her handbag under the counter, began to ring in an insistent crescendo.

aIall ignore that,a she said brightly.

The man nodded. He watched her slip the book into one of Alisonas recycled bags, and run his card briskly through the machine. Then he bent and signed his name with the elaborate care of one who has just learned to do joined-up writing. Vivien watched him leave the shop, and then she seized her bag and rummaged in it for her telephone.

The caller had been Eliot. What was Eliot doing, ringing at five-thirty on an Australian morning? Was he ill? Vivien cast a glance at the mother and toddler. The toddler was now asleep in her buggy and her mother was grazing dispiritedly along the shelf of self-help books. Vivien rapidly dialled Eliotas number.

aHi, Ma,a Eliot said. aAre you all right?a There was a pause and then Eliot said, aIam great, Ma.

Why?a aItas five-thirty in the morning. Why are you awake at five-thirty? Why are you calling me Ma?a aItas a beaut morning,a Eliot said reasonably. aWeare going to the beacha.

aSo you rang to tell me itas a lovely day?a aNo,a Eliot said, aI rang because Dad rang me and Iad forget otherwise. Iad forget if I left ita.

The young mother pushed her buggy slowly past Vivien as if Vivien did not exist. Vivien watched her without pity, as she struggled with the door.

aWhat,a Vivien said more loudly when the shop was empty, awhat would you forget?a aThat it doesnat matter to Ro and me that you canat come for Christmas. Weare going to Balia.

aWhat?a aWeare going to Bali for Christmas,a Eliot said. aWeave got cheap flights. So it doesnat mattera.

Vivien pulled Alisonas stool towards her and perched on it.

aYou said Dad rang you?a aYeaha.

aAnd Dad said we couldnat come for Christmas after all?a aYeaha.

aDid a" did he say why?a aYou should know,a Eliot said. aWork or somethinga.

aWhen did he ring?a There was a silence, and then Eliot said uncertainly, aYesterday?a aWell,a Vivien said, her voice not quite steady, awhy are you ringing me?a Eliot sounded surprised. aTo be politea. aIam sorrya"a aDad said he thought youad be a bit upset so I thought if I rang you and said we wouldnat be here anyway youad feel bettera.

aBut as I didnat knowa"a There was another silence and to stop it becoming complicated Vivien said, with an effort, aHow lovely. Going to Balia.

aYeah,a Eliot said, awead like a breaka. In the background, on a sunny blue morning in Cairns, a girlas voice said something Vivien couldnat hear. Eliot said, aMum? Gotta goa"a aYes, darlinga.

aYou take carea.

aYes,a Vivien said. aYesa.

The shop door opened and the man in the gingham shirt came in again holding the bag with the book in it.

aThank you for ringing,a Vivien said. aThat was very -thoughtfula.

The man came slowly up to the counter and laid the bag carefully on it.

aIam afraid,a he said, staring past Vivien, aIam afraid Iave changed my minda.

Leaving the stage after the final curtain call, Cheryl Smith said to Lazlo, aLike a drink?a Lazlo hesitated. Edie, untying the ribbons of Mrs Alvingas lace cap, was just ahead of them.

Cheryl followed his gaze.

aYou donat have to go everywhere she goesa.

aI donata"a aBeg pardon,a Cheryl said, abut youave gone home with her every bloody nighta.

Lazlo said quickly, aIave been living in her house. It seemed politea.

aBreak the habit of a lifetime,a Cheryl said. aCome and have a drink with mea.

Lazlo looked at her. She managed to make Reginaas maidas clothes, dowdy though they were, look as if they barely contained her.

aIave got something to tell you,a Cheryl said. aSomething to your advantagea.

aWella"a aGo on,a Cheryl said, daring him. aMummyas boya. Lazlo pushed past Cheryl in the narrow corridor behind the stage and put his hand on Edieas shoulder.