'No. About us.'

'Really,' he says, getting interested, 'what did she say?'

I close my eyes. I wonder if I should answer.

'She said we should have tried harder. Daniel thought...he said that we gave up too easily.'

My lover turns silent. For too long. This is a first for me and Michael, I'm not at all sure what he's thinking.

'What is it?' I say. 'What's wrong?'

Michael pulls his hand away and scratches it.

'Nothing. I'm a little surprised, that's all. I never thought your brother liked me all that much.'

I lie there waiting for sleep to wash over me but I can't seem to shut down the engines. It's four in the morning, there are still shouts and calls from the street: motorbikes, cars, life, arguments, hails of chatter and laughter. I wait a few more minutes, until Michael's breathing slows, then I make my way towards the kitchen and the phone. It's only eleven back in London, I doubt Sylvie will be sleeping quiet yet.

'Hey, it's me.'

'Claire, are you all right?'

'I'm fine...has there been any news?'

'No,' Sylvie says. 'There's no news.'

I'm surprised by the level of urgency in her voice, the warmth and the crisp note of worry. She seems happy to hear from me, relieved.

'I'm sorry,' I say, 'I should have called earlier...'

'No. No, that's all right. How is it? Are you OK? Have you...have you found anything?'

Maybe it's because she's an ocean away, maybe it's the last edge of the Valium. Either way I feel able to talk to her; confident that she's taking it in. I tell her about going to our old apartment. I tell her I saw the door to her old room. I remind her about the red float bands I used to fix to her arms when she was little, and about Mum telling me to make sure she had enough cream rubbed into her skin before she went outside in the sun. I describe the blue hotel: the way it looks, the way it smells, how elegant and beautiful it is. I tell her the story of Daniel's telescopes and all about the waterfall and the giant slide. My My slide. Dad's slide. The one I never even knew existed. My sister is silent. I suddenly realise I must be gabbling. slide. Dad's slide. The one I never even knew existed. My sister is silent. I suddenly realise I must be gabbling.

'Are you still there?

'...I'm here.'

'Are you OK?'

'I'm fine.'

I stiffen. I don't think she is.

'Did I say something? Did I say something wrong?'

She pauses and sighs.

'No, you didn't say anything wrong. It's just...I don't remember much of that stuff. I barely remember us being there, in Florida. I hardly...'

She has trouble saying it.

'I hardly even remember Dad.'

It's my turn to be silent for a moment, I'm not sure what to say next. Sylvie was so young when it happened, it's true, she really never knew him. I stutter and run out of steam. It's stilted. It's suddenly hard.

'Well...you loved it out here...you liked the water...you were always such a good baby. You made them feel good, Mum and Dad...you always made everyone feel so much better.'

'How?'

'How what?'

'How did I make people feel better?'

'I don't know...but you just, you always did.'

The sound of a girl shaking her head.

'So, what do you think?' she says, after a while. 'Do you really think Daniel might be out there?'

I tell her that I do. I tell her why.

'Did he ever mention it to you?' I say, when I'm done. 'The second shuttle crash? Did he ever talk to you about it?'

'He mentioned it,' she says. 'But it wasn't a big deal...he didn't seem upset by it or anything.'

'You're sure?'

'I don't think so...but...I don't know. I'd been working so hard. I wasn't hanging out with him all that much.'

There's a noise in the background: a man's voice.

'Sylvie, is someone there?'

'Yes,' she's says, hesitantly. 'It's Gabe.'

'Right. So how...how's that all going?'

'It's good. It's, you know...it's good. How are things with you and Michael?'

'Great,' I say, quickly. 'They're great.'

'Well...as long as you're sure.'

'Absolutely, he's being a rock.'

A rock? What kind of a phrase is that? In what way is Michael a rock?

'I'm pleased,' says Sylvie, kindly. 'I'm glad.'

The two of us talk a while longer. I give her my number, she gives me the numbers for Mum and Kay.

'Have they asked where I am yet?'

'No, not really. I told them you were hanging out with Michael.'

'They don't know I'm in Miami?'

'No. Should I tell them?'

I can't believe she's asking. Sylvie's never once asked me what she should do.

'I'll call them tomorrow, it's late now,' I say. 'Just tell them I'll call them both tomorrow.'

'Claire...wait. Don't hang up yet. I have to...I want want to say sorry. For how I behaved when you left.' to say sorry. For how I behaved when you left.'

An apology. Is this an apology?

'It was the shock, you know, of you leaving like that. It was all so sudden...I was upset.'

'Forget it.' I say. 'It's fine.'

'So, we're OK?'

'Yeah, Sylv. Don't worry. We're OK.'

She sounds a little happier. She wishes me good luck and I wait for the phone to click dead. Maybe it's just that she's too tired to fight, maybe it's just the late hour, but something is having a good effect on her.

On my way back to bed I realise I'm not the only one up. Away down the hallway a television plays and a bald head shines brightly in the lamp light. Huey is sat on the sofa all alone, a remote control clutched tightly in his hand. The screen flickers brightly in front of him, the sound turned down so low I can hardly make out the voices. The man on the screen is driving a police car. His face is edgy, expressive and full of life. He has wonderful hair: lush, thick and black, that gives a childish warmth to his sculpted features. I hear the chattering of teeth, then muttering under his breath, Huey says: 'Where did you go to? Was that really me? Man, where the f.u.c.k did you go?'

Call Me Madam.

'I'm a little worried about Huey.'

'Why? What is it? What's wrong?'

'He's gone silent on me. Morose or something. It's not a good sign when he gets like this.'

Tess slumps on the sofa, shoves her fingers in her mouth and starts to chew down on her nails. She looks thin in her white tank top and baggy jogging pants; she doesn't look like she's slept.

'You notice anything weird about him last night?' she says, quizzing me. 'You notice anything funny while we were out?'

I tell her that I noticed he was up late, that I caught him watching himself on TV.

'Are you sure?'

'I think so. He was rewinding the same scene over and over.'

'That's how it starts,' she says, shaking her head. 'I tell you, it doesn't look so good.'

Tess chews harder on her fingers, she's clearly anxious about him.

'He can't stand it,' she says. 'He really can't. Most of the time he seems to cope OK, but some days I know it eats him up inside. He's wanted to be a star for so long. And it's not just a vanity or a money thing with Huey, because he really is a super talented actor. You can tell, right? Soon as you meet him. You can tell what kind of actor he'd be.'

I nod. I think that I can.

'I wish I knew what'd set him off so bad. He hasn't been like this for months.'

'Maybe it's because of...you know, uh, that thing with the snake.'

'No. No. I don't think so. I think this all has to do with your brother.'

I frown. I don't know what she means.

'He's left his life behind him, right? Thrown his whole past in the dumper. I think Huey finds that sort of attractive.'

She sits up and leans forward on her knees.

'You know what's been going through my head all night?' she says. 'You know what's been driving me crazy? I've been worrying Huey might want to run away, too. Maybe he thinks that's what he needs. To walk away from it all, to pretend like his big chance never happened. Sometimes I think he can't stand to live with it any more. He was this this close, Claire, you know what I'm saying? He was this close to having it all.' close, Claire, you know what I'm saying? He was this close to having it all.'

Tess presses her index finger into her thumb to show me just how close Huey was.

'It's serious this time...I'm can feel it. Something's not right...I'm sort of scared.'

I tell Tess she ought to go and talk to him, but she shakes her head and says it's no good. She thinks Huey stayed up all night and that he'll probably be crashed out for hours.

'Michael sleeping, too, huh?'

'Yeah, he is. He's wiped out.'

'OK then. So, I know what we should do. I need to find out where this whole thing is headed now with Huey, and there's only one person who'll know. Pa.s.s me the phone, I'm going to call Madam Orla. She'll know exactly what to do.'

Madam Orla twists, turns and fidgets like a puppy getting used to its leash. She has hoops in her ears the size of donuts, and chunky silver rings on her broad fingers. Madam Orla is a preop transs.e.xual. Tess and her met at their plastic surgeon's office.

'Hola, no t.i.ts.'