aYour familya"a aOne husband. Three children, two of them older than you area. aI donat believe ita"a aTruea. She turned and put the empty tray down on a nearby table. aWhat do you want to ask?a aWill Ia"a He stopped. aWill you what?a aWill I be any good?a * * *

It was rather nice, Vivien thought, lying in the bath with a mug of valerian tea balanced on the edge, to think of Rosa settling down in her spare room. The room had been made up, of course, as it always was, in obedience to the dictates of Vivien and Edieas childhoods, where whole areas of the house had been consecrated to this mythical creature called the visitor, who would expect exaggerated standards of perfection and formality were he or she ever to put in an appearance. There had not only been a front room smelling of furniture polish, but a spare bedroom upstairs that looked as if it belonged in a provincial hotel, with two beds shrouded in green candlewick covers and a wardrobe empty of everything except extra blankets and a clatter of hangers. Edieas reaction to this arrangement had been to make sure her family lived abundantly in every corner of her house; Vivienas, to emulate her mother. Rosa, in Vivienas spare room, would find books and tissues and lamps with functioning bulbs. And if she chose, climbing into a bed where the sheets matched the pillowcases, to make comparisons, that was no affair of Vivienas.

When Rosa had telephoned and asked to come and see her, Vivien had said of course, come to supper. Then she had suggested coming on Sunday and added, aWhy donat you stay the night?a Rosa had hesitated.

aWould that be all right?a aOf course. Wouldnat you rather stay than trail back into Central London afterwards?a aStaying,a Rosa said, awould actually be very wonderfula.

Vivien didnat think Rosa looked very well. She had made an effort a" clean hair, ironed shirt a" but there was a kind of lustre missing, the kind that was turned up full wattage when you were in love but could equally be dimmed down according to varying degrees of distress, until it was almost extinguished.

It became plain, as supper progressed, and Vivien began to think that a single bottle of wine was looking both meagre and unhelpful, that Rosaas current state of distress had been advancing upon her for several years. First there was the affair with Josh, and then the ending of the affair and subsequent derailment of prudence and capability, and now unemployment and debt.

aProbably,a Rosa said, eating grapes with the absent-mindedness of being already full, aI shouldnat be telling you thisa.

aWhy not? Iam your aunta"a aI mean, I shouldnat be telling anyone. In a grown-up world, I should be sorting it. I should be waking up one morning full of resolve and vow to clear my life of clutter and make a list of priorities. I shouldnat be wandering about like some hopeless animal thatas escaped from its field and canat find the way back ina.

Vivien got up to make coffee.

aNice imagea.

aBut not nice situationa.

aNoa. She reached up for the cafetire from a high shelf. She said, aDid you think of going back home?a There was a pause and then Rosa said reluctantly, aI trieda.

Vivien turned round.

aI canat believe your mother turned you downa"a aNoa"a aWell, thena.

aDad did,a Rosa said. aBut nobody knows that but Ben. Youare not to saya. Vivien smiled at her.

aWouldnat dream of ita. She spooned coffee into the cafetire. She said carefully, aYour mother couldnat think why you chose to go and live with friends. Couldnat understand it. Why you didnat go homea.

aWell,a Rosa said, aI canat, nowa.

aCanat you?a aI canat go whining to Mum after Dad said what he dida.

aWhich,a Vivien said, switching on the kettle, aI can imagine. Men always want their wives to see them first. Except,a she added lightly, aminea.

Rosa looked up.

aPerhaps thatas why you still like hima. Vivien came back to the table and sat down. aMore wine?a aYes, but no,a Rosa said. aIam selling bargain breaks to Lanzarote tomorrowa.

aNothing wrong with that. I sell a lot of books I wouldnat read myselfa. She picked up a fork and drew a line with it across her place mat. She said, aYouall get another joba.

aI hope soa.

aItas much easier to find a job if youave already got onea.

Rosa rolled a bruised grape around the rim of her plate.

aItas not really the job that worries me so much, in a way. Itas how Iam going to live. How Iam going to live so that I can start on this debt, how Ia"a She broke off and then she said, in a slightly choked voice, aSorrya.

Vivien drew another line to intersect with the first one.

Then she said, aCome herea.

aWhat?a aCome here. Come and live here for a whilea. Rosa stared at her.

aI couldnata"a aWhy not?a aWell, youare my aunta"a aExactlya.

aAnd Muma"a aMight be very pleaseda.

aMight she?a They looked at each other. aI donat think so,a Rosa said. aDoes it matter?a aOh Goda"a aDoes it really matter? Just while you get yourself sorted and start paying off these cards and find another job?a aMaybea"a aSheall calm down,a Vivien said. aYou know Edie. Big bang, smaller mutterings, acceptance. Sheall be finea. Rosa said slowly, aIt would be wonderfula"a aYes. Iad love ita.

aIad make an efforta"a Vivien got up to get the coffee.

aWe both woulda. She looked at Rosa over her shoulder. She smiled. aIt might be quite funa.

It might, she thought now, indeed be fun. It might also, dwelling upon the prospect, be both a relief and comfort to become in some way necessary again, a provider of all those things only women who had lived lives and run houses could properly provide. Vivien picked up her tea. Rosa had kissed her warmly before she had disappeared into the spare room, with a kind of brief sudden fervour people feel when they have unexpectedly been thrown a lifeline.

aI only really came to talk,a Rosa said. aI never thoughta"a aNor did I,a Vivien said. aOne seldom doesa.

She smiled into her tea. There was no hurry, really, about telling Edie.

Chapter Seven.

The loft on Bankside was in a vast converted Victorian warehouse. Its brick walls, newly cleaned and pierced with modern windows in matte black frames, reared up from the charmingly a" and also newly a" cobbled alley that separated the building from a similar one ten feet away. If you looked skywards, you could see, on the two sides that looked towards the river, that little black balconies had been hung outside some of the higher windows, and on one of those, Matthew supposed, Ruth would emerge on summer evenings, holding a glass of vodka and cranberry juice, or whatever was the drink of the moment in her circle, and admire both the view and her sense of ownership.

Thinking this was not, Matthew found, at all comfortable. In fact nothing in his mind was, at the moment, in the least comfortable, being instead a sour soup of disappointment and self-reproach and a very real and insistent sadness. It wasnat a simple matter of resenting Ruth, or even berating himself for not facing facts, because the whole situation had crept up on him a" on them both a" so insidiously, fuelled by things that were not acknowledged or uttered even more than by things that were openly expressed. He might curse himself for getting into this tangle, but the curses were only the more vehement because he could, looking back, see exactly how he had got there.

When Matthew had announced that there was no way he could share in the purchase of the flat, Ruth had become very still. She had looked at him for a long time, thoughtfully, and then she had said, aWill you do one thing?a aWhat thinga"a aCome and see the flat. Just see ita. He shook his head.

aNoa.

aMatthew, pleasea.

aI canat afford it. I donat want to have my nose rubbed in what I canat afforda.

aIt isnat for you, Iam afraid. Itas for me. I want you to see the flata.

He said nothing.

She said, almost shyly, aI want you to see what Iam buyinga.

aWhy?a aI want you to be part of ita"a aI canat bea.

aBut youall come there, youall come and see me, surely?a He hesitated. His heart smote him. He said, not looking at her, aOf coursea. aThen comea.

aRutha"a She moved towards him and put her hands on his shoulders. She looked into his face as intently as if she were counting his eyelashes.

aMatt. Matt. This isnat the end of usa.

Now, standing uneasily on those carefully patterned cobblestones, Matthew told himself that being kind a" or cowardly a" once was one thing: persisting in it was quite another and could lead to desperate situations. Whatever Ruth said, however beseeching she was, he must not allow her to believe that he felt other than he did, that he could somehow cope with a situation in which he only had power in the obvious department of bed, which was not, in the end, he knew, enough.

He pushed open the heavy glass door of the warehouse and entered an immensely tall foyer, floored in granite with long windows running right up to the roof. There was an industrial steel staircase curving up behind a bank of lifts and besides that nothing, not a picture nor an ashtray nor a piece of furniture, nothing but high, quiet acres of expensively finished dark gleaming space. He stepped forward into a lift and pressed the button for the sixth floor.

When the lift doors slid open, there was a sudden flood of light.

aI saw you!a Ruth said. She was standing in an open doorway with apparently nothing behind her. aI was watching from the balcony and I saw you!a He bent to kiss her cheek. She moved to meet his mouth and missed it. He looked past her.

aWowa.

aIsnat it wonderful?a He nodded. The room beyond the open door was pale and high and shining, and at the end there was nothing through the huge windows but sky.

Ruth took his hand.

aYou see? You see why I had to buy it?a She towed him through the door. Then she let go and spun down the length of the room.

aIsnat it great?a aYesa.

aAll this space! All this air! And Central London! I can walk to work!a aYesa.

aCome and see the bathroom,a Ruth said. aThe shower is so cool. And in the kitchen, the microwave is built into the cooker unit. It looks like a spaceshipa.

Matthew followed her across the wooden floor, through a doorway in a translucent wall of glass bricks. She was standing in a shower made of a cylinder of satin-finished metal, punctuated with little glass portholes in blue and green.

aDid you ever see anything like it?a aNo,a Matthew said, aI never dida.

Ruth stepped out of the shower.

She said, more soberly, aI wish it wasnat like thisa.

He nodded.

She said, aI wish it wasnat you coming to stay in my flat. I wish it was oursa.

He leaned against the wall. The glass felt solid and cold through the sleeve of his jacket.

He said, too loudly, aIam afraid I wonat be cominga.

She said nothing. She walked past him very quickly and went back into the big room. He followed her. She was standing by the sliding doors to the balcony looking at her view of the river.

She said, aPlease donat talk like thata.

He stayed standing a little behind her.

He said, aRuth, I have to. If I come and stay here, itall change the balance between us. Itas changed already, of course, but itad be worse. You can imagine how it would be. Itad be pitifula.

She said fiercely, turning round, aYou couldnat be pitiful. I wouldnat let youa.

He tried to smile.

aYou couldnat stop me. It would just happena.

aMatta"a aWeave had a wonderful time,a he said, aand itas got nothing to do with not loving youa"a She stepped forward and seized his arms. aSuppose I donat buy it! I mind far more about youa"a He stepped back, gently extricating himself. He said, shaking his head, aIt wouldnat worka"a She dropped her arms.

She said miserably, aI didnat mean this to a" be like thisa.

aI know you didnata.

aAre a" are my values all skewed?a aNopea.

aPlease a" please donat leavea. He looked round the table. aItas a wonderful place. Youall be really happy herea.

aMatta"a He leaned forward and laid the palm of his hand against her cheek.

He said, aAnd youare doing the right thing,a and then he took his hand away and walked back across the echoing floor to the landing and the lifts.

Edie took a garden chair into the angle of the house where, if you tucked yourself right into the corner, you could elude every breath of wind. She also carried a mug of coffee, her script and, somehow, two ginger biscuits, a pen and her telephone. Behind her, sensing a sedentary moment of which he might take advantage, padded Arsie.

The sun, shining out of a washed blue sky, was quite strong. It showed up unswept post-winter garden corners, and interesting patterns of blistered paintwork and lingering blackened leaves on the clematis above Edieas head. She thought, settling herself into the chair and arranging her mug and phone and biscuits on a couple of upturned flowerpots to hand, that this was the first time, the first moment, in the last five weeks, when she had felt the possibility of pleasure, a tiny chance for the future to hold something that could, in turn, hold a small candle to the past. She let Arsie spring into her lap, waited while he trampled himself down into position, and then rested her script on top of his purring tabby back. Sun, cat, acting, Edie thought. She patted the script. No, not quite that. Russell would put it differently. Sun, cat, work.

aI canat believe this is work,a Lazlo had said to her at the first rehearsal.

Shead been looking at her lines.

Without glancing at him, she said, aBy the end of this rehearsal, youall know it isa.

By the end of the rehearsal, head been ashen. Head looked as if he might cry. Head been all over the place, all the wrong emphases, no sense of timing, not listening, in panic, to what the director was saying.

aGo away,a Freddie Cass said to him. aGo away and learn those lines and come back to me emptya.

aEmpty?a aEmpty. Weare starting again. Weare not starting from Lazlo, weare starting from the playa.

Ivor, the Norwegian, had taken him and Edie for a consoling drink. Now that the cast was established Ivor had exchanged patronage for paternalism.

He put a hefty arm round Lazloas shoulders.

aDrink that. Relaxa.

Lazlo looked like a boy in a fairy tale, rescued by a genial giant. He drank his drink and shivered a little and Edie and Ivor smiled at each other across his bent head and told him that everyone had first rehearsals like this, everyone got overexcited at one point or another, and made fools of themselves.

Lazlo looked mournfully at Edie.