We laze by the pool for the rest of the afternoon, until a rain shower forces us inside. We don't want it to end. One more drink, one more hour, one more story.

'What about the Rose Room? We should go and drink in there. We never got to see it. I'd like to see it.'

I'd like to see it too.

'Wow, this is nice, right? It's so romantic, so pretty.'

It's a small s.p.a.ce, intimate and delicate, its walls lined with antiques and Venetian mirrors. The panelling on the bar is a pale shade of walnut, the marble on the floor is shot through with veins of rose-coloured quartz. Thick velvet curtains line the windows and teardrop chandeliersMurano, crystalsparkle from the high, painted ceilings. It could look old-fashioned, overdone but it's all so well chosen, so finely balanced.

'I love this room. I just love love it. If I was ever going to marry, I'd get married in here. What do you think Michael, do you love it?' it. If I was ever going to marry, I'd get married in here. What do you think Michael, do you love it?'

'Yeah...I suppose so. It's OK.'

'No. It's not right, though. I don't think this place is right for you.'

'Well, it's not really my taste.'

'I know what you mean, Mike.'

No one ever calls him Mike.

'It's got history this place, it's got depth. For me, that's what makes makes a room, its depth, its complexity. That's why it lasts. That's the whole reason you stay with it.' a room, its depth, its complexity. That's why it lasts. That's the whole reason you stay with it.'

He shrugs. He doesn't realise that she's having a dig at him.

'Waiter, sir? Do you mind if we talk to you a second?'

The waiter comes over, an older guy.

'We love this room,' says Tess. 'We think it's got something special, a special kind of atmosphere, am I right?'

'Well, people seem to like it.'

'They kept it just the same, isn't that true? They didn't redecorate in here during the refit?'

The waiter looks round, studying the decor. He wants to be sure of his answer.

'The curtains are new, a deeper shade of red than the originals. The rest of it was largely untouched. It's all much as it was, except for the name.'

'The name?'

'It didn't used to be called the Rose Room. They named it that much later, on account of the pink quartz that runs through the marble. For the first few years they called it something different.'

'Oh? What did they call it?'

'Someone that worked on the refurbishment, a British guy, he had the owners name it after his wife. He filled it with all the things he thought that she'd like. Apparently, he had some artist from London pick out all the key pieces: the chaise, the prints. The antiques, the crystal chandeliers.'

Tess nods at me, I pipe up.

'My dad...he worked on this place when it was restored. He's...he's British.'

'Maybe it was him, then. Did your mother know he named the bar after her? Tell her, I'm sure she'd love to know.'

'What's your mum's name?' says Huey.

'Annie's Bar,' says the waiter. 'That's what they called it. Annie is your mother's name, right?'

Tess sees the look on my face.

'No,' she says, gently. 'I think you're mistaken. I really don't think that it is.'

Like Father Like Son.

We walk back to the apartment along the beach. The moon is up and there's a stillness in the air. It's a sweet-smelling, beautiful night.

'Ought to be fine for the rocket launch tomorrow.'

'Yes. It ought to be good.'

'Clear skies, warm weather. Nothing...problematic.'

'No,' I say. 'Nothing problematic.'

Tess stops for a moment. She turns.

'Did you ever suspect it?'

It didn't even enter my head.

We rest on the sand for a moment; Huey chatting to Michael, me sitting quietly with Tess. She pulls a notebook from her pocket. She flicks through her bright yellow Post-its, underlining words and crossing some out.

'I usually guess this stuff pretty early,' she says. 'I usually work out how it is, but I had this all wrong. Annie was your father's girlfriend, not Daniel's. She wrote that letter to him him.'

I lie backwards with my head to the surf. I like how gentle it sounds.

'My mother had affairs. All the time. Couldn't keep her coochy in her pants. Went through men like dish cloths. Every man she met fell in love with her.'

'Was she beautiful?'

'No. Not so much. But she had this essence.'

'Essence?'

'Yeah...that's what it was. It wasn't always good but it drew people to her. It always made me and my sister feel so plain. Men were always leaving their wives and girlfriends to be with her. Maybe Annie was like that.'

'Yes,' I say. 'Perhaps she was.'

'You feel badly for your mum? You never knew your father was cheating on her?'

'No, Tess. I didn't.'

But I should have.

'Well, maybe it wasn't for long. Maybe is was something and nothing.'

The surf's getting up. Rolling and crashing on the sand.

'Why'd you think Daniel had the letter?' she says. 'Why do you think he kept it all this time?'

I shake my head. I don't know. Tess sits upright and nods.

'I know what you're thinking.'

'What am I thinking?'

'You're thinking, like father like son.'

Huey crouches down next to Tess.

'You ready to go home?' he says, reaching for her hand. 'We ought to get some sleep. It's going to be a tough day tomorrow.'

'For all of us.'

'I guess so, for all of us.'

All four of us are ready to go home.

The Operation.

'You're upset. I understand. That's no reason for you to go up there without me.'

'Michael, I want to go alone.'

'It's a long drive. Let me drive you. Come on, I know you hardly slept.'

'I'm fine. I'm going to be fine. And someone needs to look after Harvey.'

'You want me to stay behind because of the snake snake?'

I shrug.

'I told Tess you'd do it. She wanted to be sure he was looked after.'

Michael looks at the floor. He shakes his head.

'There's food under the sink. Huey left him some mice. He doesn't need many, it takes him a couple of days to digest them.'

'Christ, that's...it's revolting.'

'Really? I thought you might get a kick out of it.'

'Come on...don't be like that. What am I going to do out here all on my own? What am I going to do up here all day?'

'Go and see your record producer friend. Tell him you're free to work now. No commitments.'

'Shorty, that's not fair.'

'You know what?' I say, pushing his hand away. 'Don't call me that...I really hate it when you call me that.'

Our scruffy suitcase is slumped in the middle of the floor, exposing its soft baggy innards: crushed short-sleeved T-shirts, creased pairs of jeans, note paper, guide books, tubes of toothpaste. I make a start on repacking it. I turf Michael's possessions from the case one by one, tossing them onto the mattress: his socks, his underpants, his CDs; I feel like a dentist, pulling teeth.

'Should I have missed out?' he says, picking his pants up off the floor. 'Should I have pa.s.sed up on this chance? I would have come anyway anyway. You don't think I'd have come out here with you regardless?'

'Honestly?'

'Honestly.'

I turn round. I have his electric razor in my hand.

'I think as long as I'd paid for it, you'd have gone pretty much anywhere I'd asked you to.'

Michael s.n.a.t.c.hes the razor from me and removes the rest of his belongings himself. He's furious now. He's not having it. It deteriorates. We deteriorate.

'You only slept slept with me because I'd been seeing other people.' with me because I'd been seeing other people.'

'You only slept with me me because you were bored?' because you were bored?'

'I wasn't bored...I was lonely.'

'Lonely, bored...it's the same.'

'No. It's not.'

'It was a one-night stand...for old times' sake. You knew it, I knew it...we both knew both knew. And I was was jealous...you're right. So what does that mean, Claire? Think about it. It means that I cared.' jealous...you're right. So what does that mean, Claire? Think about it. It means that I cared.'

'It means your ego ego cared.' cared.'

'No...it means that I I cared.' cared.'

He stops. He tries to rub my shoulder.