aYou didnat,a he said.

aNot on this occasiona.

aTell me,a Lazlo said miserably, aabout a time when you dida.

Theyad ended up drinking two bottles of wine and putting their arms round each other and when Edie got home, Russell took one look at her and said, aShall I say I told you so?a It was true that the play was drawing her in and therefore providing a distraction from her preoccupations, but that didnat mean, Edie decided, tilting her face to the sun and closing her eyes, that she didnat notice that none of the children were telephoning, nor that she didnat feel painfully aware that she knew very little about Matthewas new flat or Rosaas living arrangements, or Benas girlfriend, or any of their working lives. She had promised herself that she wouldnat keep ringing them, and she clung to that promise with the tenacity usually required to stick to a rigorous diet, but it didnat mean she didnat think and wonder and worry. And feel left out. Playing Mrs Alving was wonderful because it stopped her, sometimes for hours at a time, from waiting for the telephone to ring: but it wasnat a solution, it was only a diversion.

Beside her, quivering on its upturned flowerpot, her phone began vibrating.

aItas me,a Vivien said.

aDamna.

aThank you so very mucha"a aI was hoping you were Matthew. Or Bena. aAt eleven-thirty in the morning?a aWhy not?a aPeople only ring their mothers in the early evening. Itas a sort of traditiona. aVivi,a Edie said. aYou sound very perkya.

aWell, the sunas out and my new little blue clematis is flowering and Eliot has passed his first diving exama. aHow usefula.

aIt is, if youare living in Australia, near interesting coral reefsa.

aWould you call it a career?a aI rang,a Vivi said, ato ask how you are. Actuallya.

aAnd actually, Iam very pleased to hear you. Nobody rings me now. Nobody. Iave vanished. Was it Germaine Greer who said that women over fifty are invisible?a aProbably. But I expect she was thinking of them as sex objectsa.

Edie shifted in her chair a little and the script slid to the ground. Arsie didnat move.

aI only want to be a mother object. Iall think about sex again when Iave sorted this stage. Actually, talking of mothers, Iave got a sweet new stage son. Heas twenty-four and anxious and pads round after me like a puppya.

aWell,a Vivien said, athere you are then. Sorteda.

aI want to know how my real children area.

There was a tiny pause and then Vivien said, almost cautiously, aI can tell you how one of them is, I thinka"a aCan you?a Edie said sharply. She sat up, pulling her knees together. Arsie dug his claws in. aOw. What do you mean?a aI saw Rosaa"a aDid you?a aYesa.

aWhy did you see Rosa?a Vivien said lightly, aOh, she came to suppera.

aDid she?a aAnd stayed the nighta.

Edie opened her mouth to say, truthfully, that she didnat know or, untruthfully, that shead forgotten, and decided against both of them.

Instead she said, in a voice that entirely betrayed her feelings, aGood!a aI rather thought,a Vivien said unkindly, athat shead have told youa.

Edie leaned forward to detach Arsieas claws from the fabric of her trouser knees.

She said, as normally as she could, aHow was she?a aWell,a Vivien said, aI thought she was putting on a bit of a brave face. I mean, this travel agency job is fine, but it isnat really stretching her, you know. She knows that, of course, but itas money, isnat it?a aYesa"a aThe real trouble was living with Kate and Barney. Theyare too newly married, really, to cope with having anyone else there. She didnat actually say she didnat feel welcome, but I could tell she was having a bad timea.

aWas?a aOh yes,a Vivien said, almost airily. aWe sorted the living thing at leasta.

Edie closed her eyes.

aSheas coming to live with me, for the moment,a Vivien said. aThatas why Iam ringing, really. I thought you should knowa.

Edie opened her eyes again. She gripped the telephone.

aLet me get this straight, Vivi. Rosa is working in a travel agency, and living with Kate and Barney didnat work out so she a" she has asked to live with you?a aNo,a Vivien said, aI asked her. I could see she was desperatea.

aWhy,a Edie cried, wishing she could restrain herself, adidnat she ask me? Why didnat she come home?a aAh. Now that I couldnat say. I couldnat tell you about thata.

aYouare a smug, manipulative cowa.

aEdie,a Vivien said, aI am your sister and Rosaas aunt. Iam familya.

aI donat want to talk to you any morea.

aOh, donat be so melodramatic and silly. As long as Rosa is safe and comfortable, why does it matter whose roof sheas under?a Edie scooped her free hand under Arsie and lifted him off her lap. Then she stood up.

aYou know very well why it mattersa.

aOnly if youare possessivea.

aIam not possessive!a aWell,a Vivien said, ayou think of another word for ita. Edie put a hand over her eyes. aTo cook up this plan behind my backa"a aIam ringing youa.

aRosa didnata.

aWell,a Vivien said triumphantly, acan you wonder?a Edie looked down at the ground. The sheets of her script were scattered about and the cat was sitting, washing, on some of them.

aI must go,a she said to her sister. aYoua"a aYes,a Edie said. aCanat talk any more. Got to learn my linesa.

Maeve was sorting the invoices for Russellas quarterly VAT return. In the days before VAT she had entered all receipts and outgoings in a series of black analysis books and there were many occasions, either battling with the geriatric computer, or shuffling sliding piles of paper on not enough desk space, when she longed for those uncomplicated handwritten days, those peaceful, simple columns of in and out with their satisfactorily clear totals, written in red, at the foot of each one. Modern business life wasnat just more complicated; there was also more of it, more paper, more checking, more duplicating, more choices. Choice, Maeve sometimes thought, accounted for far more of the current propensity for depression than stress did. Choice, if taken to extremes, could quite simply drive you mad.

The door to Russellas office stood open, as usual. Russell himself wasnat in his office, having gone to a meeting with a television production company that had secured an advertising contract for a major bank and was in search of both actors and actorsa voices. Maeve could visualise him at the meeting, slightly rumpled amid the black T-shirts and business suits, but not to be lightly dismissed on account of having known the business, and the people in it, since before some of his competitors were born. If Russell wasnat the kind of agent who commuted to Los Angeles and had a country house for weekends, it was because he didnat want to be.

aNot blazingly ambitious,a head said to Maeve when he first interviewed her all those years ago. aJust want to have a nice time. Itas what growing up in the North does to you a" youare either driven by the work ethic of your childhood, or you decide to react against it. What you see, Miss OaLeary, is my small rebelliona.

All the same, he probably wouldnat come back from the meeting entirely empty-handed. Head taken a few photographs, a few voice tapes, and he would proffer them casually, merely saying, aYou might like to consider this,a in the tone of voice he used to his clients when persuading them to accept a job that paid reasonably but only required a fraction of their acting skills. The clients, having reluctantly accepted, would then lie across the wicker sofas in Maeveas office and groan to her.

aI said Iad never be a lawn mower again. I promised myself no more cartoon bears. I swore not to be a tea bag. Not ever again. Not evera.

Maeve had made a sign years before, which she had stuck on the back of her computer, the side that faced the sofa. It read: aJust think of the moneya and it had been there so long that the edges had stiffened and curled. It was supposed to save her saying it out loud, over and over, but of course everyone needed to be told, equally over and over, that being the voice of a northern Building society was going to pay the bills until that turning-point movie role became a happening rather than a hope.

Maeve got up from her desk and went into Russellas office to collect the small receipts that he threw into an old leather collar box on the cluttered shelves behind his desk. The collar box had belonged to his grandfather, whose initials, the same as Russellas, could still be seen, faintly stamped into the leather below the fastening. What would that Russell Boyd, Maeve sometimes wondered, that hard-working, God-fearing manufacturer of fish barrels for the fleets that worked off the northern coasts, close to Hull, have made of his grandson being in a poncy job like this? And what of those framed photographs, signed by some of Russellas better-known clients, all parted lips and smouldering eyes and flourishes? Maeve took down the collar box and opened the lid. There wasnat much in it. Russell might like a nice life in some ways, but that didnat include, it seemed, taking many taxis.

From her own office, the street doorbell rang. Maeve put down the collar box and pressed the audio button on the intercom.

aRussell Boyd Associatesa.

aItas Edie,a Edie said.

aYou come on up,a Maeve said. aHeas not here, but Iam expecting hima.

She pushed the door release, and a second later heard its muffled crash, closing behind Edie. She opened the office door and waited for Edieas steps up the stairs, light and quick, to come closer. Edie was wearing jeans, and a green wool jacket, with her hair pushed into the kind of cap Maeve remembered people wearing in the sixties, a gamine kind of cap, with a big peak.

aIave to congratulate you,a Maeve said, as Edie reached the final landing, aon getting that playa.

Edie gave her a pat on the arm. They had known one another for twenty-five years and had never kissed. Edie was not the kind of woman, Maeve considered, who scattered kisses about just anyhow, actor or no actor, and in any case a mutual sense of propriety had kept them friendly but formal.

aItas good,a Edie said. She was panting slightly. aIam enjoying it. No wonder Ibsen went to Italy. You couldnat breathe, then, in Norwaya. She looked into Russellas office. aWhereas he gone?a aMeeting with Daydream Productions. Should be back any minute. Now, will you have a cup of coffee?a Edie considered.

aI donat think soa"a aI make it all day,a Maeve said. aItas never enough for these people just to come here and see Russell and go. They need nourishment and a sympathetic ear and Iam the provider of botha.

Edie walked over to the window of Russellas office.

She said, almost idly, aI suppose Rosa hasnat been in?a aNot for a while,a Maeve said. aNot for a month or so. Looking at you, I canat see where that height of hers comes froma.

Edie shrugged.

aTheyare all taller than me. I used to have to buy shoes in Chinatowna.

aItas modern nourishment,a Maeve said. aItas all this feeding. When I was growing up, in County Sligo, you could have put three children into a modern onea. The street door crashed again.

aThatall be him,a Maeve said. aYouare a family of slam-mers. Not another soul in this building slams the way he doesa.

Edie took her cap off and put it on Russellas desk. Then she sat down in his swivel chair and leaned back.

aIf youare taking him away,a Maeve said, aIave some letters for him to sign before you doa.

Edie shook her head.

aI just want to ask him somethinga.

Russellas footsteps could be heard on the landing and then crossing Maeveas office.

He appeared in the doorway.

aWell,a he said. He was smiling. aHow lovelya.

Edie regarded him.

Maeve said, aAnd how did it go?a Russell was looking at Edie.

aGood,a he said. aGood. Several nibbles that might well amount to a bite or twoa.

He put the battered canvas bag in which he carried papers down on a chair and went round his desk, stooping to kiss Edie.

aHelloa.

Edie said, aI could have rung but I was restlessa. aGood,a Russell said again. He perched himself on the edge of his desk. aYou wouldnat be here otherwisea. Maeve moved towards her office.

aWill I shut the door?a Russell half turned.

aDonat bothera. aPlease,a Edie said, past him. He turned back. aWhatas happened?a Edie waited until Maeve, with elaborate care, had closed the connecting door. Then she said, aSomething a bit puzzlinga"a aWhat?a She put a half-closed hand up near her face, as if she was examining the cuticles. aVivi ranga.

aAnd?a aShe said Rosa was moving in with hera.

aWell,a Russell said, a shade too cheerfully, aisnat that a good thing?a aWhy didnat I hear it from Rosa?a aWell, perhaps Vivi got in firsta"a aWhy isnat Rosa ringing? Why donat I know whatas happening to Rosa?a To be honest,a Russell said, aI donat know whatas happening to her eithera.

Edie took her gaze off her cuticles and directed it at Russell.

aDonat you think we should know?a aDarling, sheas twenty-sixa"a aI donat care if sheas a hundred and six. Sheas not settled or happy and we are her parents and we should knowa.

Russell stopped smiling.

aYesa.

Edie leaned forward so that she could look penetratingly up at Russell.

aThere was a hint in something Vivi said, just a hint, that something has been going on, to do with Rosaa.

aAha"a aAnd when Iad rung off and was pacing about learning my lines, it came to me that perhaps something had been going on to do with Rosa, to do with Matt too, for that matter, something that I didnat know about, but which you possibly dida.

Russell looked out of the window and waited.

aWell, I couldnat go on pacing up and down, declaiming about dissolution and debauchery, I couldnat concentrate any more, so I got on the tube, and I came.

Russell?a aDamn Vivi,a Russell said lightly.

Edie put her hand on his sleeve.

aWhat,a Edie said, ahave you and Rosa been doing?a Russell looked down at Edieas hand on his arm. He felt a sudden uncharacteristic and complete loss of temper, and moved his arm so that Edieas hand fell from it.

aNothing,a he said furiously. aNothing. Nothing to do with youa.

aButa"a aDid you hear me?a Edie stared at him.

She hesitated and then she said uncertainly, aIf you say soa"a aI doa.

aBut is she OK?a Russell turned away and bent over his desk, staring deliberately at the computer screen.

aWhen she isnat,a he said more calmly, aIall tell youa.

There were four messages on Rosaas mobile phone, one from her mother, one from her father, one from her aunt, and one from her older brother. Only the last one did she have any inclination to return. The others a" well, how depressing was it, at her age, and stuffed into the sky-blue polyester blazer with yellow plastic sunburst buttons required by the travel company, to have a string of messages on your phone that are all, but all, from your family? It would be all very well, of course, if there were other messages, messages from friends and a" well, better not think about that. Better not remember how happy she had been to let Josh make her miserable, better not even start down that train of thought that began by fantasising how it might have been if she had never met him, never fallen in love with him, never been so sure that keeping him mattered more than anything else in the world. Shead hardly taken her eyes off her phone in the Josh days.

The messages were all, except for Mattas, of a kind that she didnat much want to hear. It was evident that her aunt had rung her mother to have a small but unmistakable gloat about Rosaas living arrangements, and, in the course of conversation, had hinted that something had occurred to prevent Rosaas turning at once to her parents in time of need. Her mother had then, it appeared, gone straight to find her father, who had had to confess what had happened, and they had both subsequently left messages, her fatheras apologetic but brisk, her motheras imploring her to come home. Matthewas, by contrast, was completely unemotional. He just said head like to catch up sometime soon. He was plainly calling from the office because his call took ten seconds.

Rosa dropped her phone back in the bag at her feet. She was not going to deal with any of this just now. Despite the blue polyester blazer, today had been a reasonably good day. She had sold a weekend in Venice to a party of six, booked a stag group to Vilnius and reserved several family-holiday special-offers in Croatia. If they all came good, it was the most commission she had made so far, which might translate into the first tiny repayment of debt, the first small step back to even a vestige of independence. If you coupled that with the prospect of Vivienas spare bedroom a" a bit fussy, a bit overfurnished, but comfortable and convenient and almost free a" it was not, Rosa considered, quite as black an outlook as it had been a month before.

She moved the mouse for her computer to access her emails. It was not permitted, in the travel company, to use the email service for personal messages, but who was going to check on her if she bent the rule just once? She typed in Matthewas work address.

aTx for message,a Rosa wrote, one eye on the office manager eight feet away straightening the rack of brochures. aYes, would be good to meet. When? Where?a And then she added, pulling a booking form towards her in order to look like work, aNeed to talk. Parents!!!a The office manager turned from the brochure rack. She had ironed straight hair and favoured pearlised lip-gloss.