"Who'd pick up the children?"

She slammed down the phone and cried until it was time to pick up Tallulah.

With only one more day to go before the weekend, Vanessa wore mascara to celebrate. Three layers of it. She spent twenty minutes doing her makeup. It probably made her weigh two pounds more, but it had been worth it. Tallulah had watched with awe and, once permission was granted, had played ecstatically with mummy's pinkest lipsticks, and they'd managed to while away almost an hour tidying her makeup drawer.

They hadn't bothered with Tumble Tots or ballet all fortnight-Vanessa decided they might as well make the most of just being together, and anyway, she wasn't exactly sure where they were held and didn't want to interrupt Jo on her time off. She also didn't want to risk getting Tallulah's hopes up and then not be able to find the place.

On their last Thursday together, by the time they were ready for their teatime walk, both were pleased with the way their afternoon had turned out. Tallulah was wearing Summer Sunshine nail polish and Vanessa had a tidy makeup drawer. Tallulah had learned how to make pizza from scratch, and Vanessa didn't have to prepare any tea. It didn't give her the same buzz that her job did, but it did make her feel she wasn't such a failure as a mother.

The next morning, her last Friday off from work, Vanessa woke with a start after dreaming of falling down a hole in the ground and never reaching the bottom. She got out of bed in one bound.

While Vanessa clattered round the kitchen, Josh lay awake listening. He'd been having problems sleeping again, just like old times. And every time he woke up in the morning, after a night of thinking it would never come, his first emotion was dread. He hated walking through Jo's room. Every time, the same thoughts, the same feelings. He'd try not to, but end up looking at her bed and remember lying on it watching her falling asleep the night she'd got her dad's call; then he'd think about her with Shaun and remember the noises he'd heard through the stud wall when Shaun had come to stay; then finally, he'd think about them being together now. And then after his shower, he'd walk back through her room again into his room to dress and have exactly the same memories, the same thoughts, the same feelings. And then he'd have to walk through her room again, out into the kitchen and have exactly the same memories, the same thoughts, the same feelings. Three little journeys to h.e.l.l every morning before breakfast.

And every evening he'd have to listen to Vanessa and d.i.c.k arguing about giving up on Jo and getting a new nanny. Vanessa was adamant Jo was coming back, d.i.c.k was concerned that she wasn't and they'd never find a nanny as good as she, or one who would stay. One evening when d.i.c.k had suggested that maybe after all, the children just needed their mother, they'd had the biggest row he'd ever heard.

After work, Josh climbed up the steps from Highgate Station, slowly but surely, and made his way to his dad's shop. Although there was a light drizzle, the spring evening smelled of flowers trying to bud. There was an almost tangible optimism in the air, like G.o.d's own version of supermarket's baked bread and Muzak. Summer would be here before he knew it. And yet he was depressed. He watched the traffic as he paced through Highgate. Weird, he thought as he neared the shop. I never noticed how popular white Clios were before.

Jo wiped her mother's mouth gently with the napkin and put the spoon back in the bowl.

"There," she said. "Well done. Can you believe Dad made it out of his own brain?"

Her mother smiled a slow wonky smile that squeezed at Jo's heart.

"He never even knew there was such a thing as a parsnip before making it," Jo said briskly. "You almost had parsnip soup without the parsnip."

Hilda laughed as Jo put the bowl on her bedside table.

"Do you want to wait a bit before you move on to the cheese and crackers?"

Hilda nodded.

"Sheila still hasn't called back," said Jo quietly. Hilda looked at her. "I think I upset her when I was in London," she explained. "Didn't call enough. Made her feel used." She looked up at her mum. "I don't think I called anyone enough," she whispered. Very slowly, Hilda lifted her hand and placed it on Jo's. They exchanged thin smiles. Jo picked up the plate with the cheese and crackers.

"Right," she said. "Tell me when you've had enough."

They'd phoned! Three o'clock on the Friday before Vanessa was due back and they'd phoned! It had taken them two weeks to need her, but need her they did! Vanessa was buzzing. She had a deadline-Max wanted some facts and figures that only she could provide, and he wanted them fast. "f.u.c.king fast," in fact. Tra b.l.o.o.d.y la, thought Vanessa. A few emergency phone calls and she was back in the driver's seat. Tallulah sat with Mummy at the kitchen table and pretended to be an advertising accounts manager while Vanessa delegated the most basic of jobs and got one of the most efficient PAs she'd ever had. Better still, it stopped Vanessa thinking too much about Anthony, her marriage, her responsibilities, and the mess she was making of her life.

"Thanks for coming straight from work," said d.i.c.k to Josh. "I really appreciate it."

"Anytime, Dad," said Josh. "You must know that."

"Yes but on a Friday," said d.i.c.k. "I know all you city types usually go out for a well-deserved drink-"

"Yeah and I hate it. I'd much rather be here."

Josh never ceased to be amazed that his father didn't realize that he'd probably swallow fire for him. That's the way parenting works. Children could smell parental love like dogs could smell fear. Love your child unconditionally and they could one day leap up and ferociously attack you. Act as if you don't really care, and they slavishly adore you.

"What's the latest, Dad?" he asked.

d.i.c.k sighed. "I'm giving up on Jackie."

Josh stared at his father, then started nodding slowly.

"I can't rely on her anymore," said d.i.c.k. "And I may not have the time. I need someone I can really rely on. Someone I can trust."

"Mm?"

d.i.c.k grinned at his son. "You're going to make me ask you, aren't you?"

Josh mirrored his father's grin. "Oh yes."

"Josh."

"Dad."

"I'm sacking my accountant. Please will you do my accounts?"

Josh sucked in air and shook his head, pretending to consider.

"Of course I'd pay you!" rushed d.i.c.k.

"Don't be ridiculous-"

"I'm not being ridiculous," said d.i.c.k. "I have, amazingly enough, still got my pride. G.o.d knows how, but-"

"Dad, it would be like a hobby for me-I mean, I'd love to actually keep the books for a place I care about instead of some ma.s.sive, faceless company-"

"Well we certainly aren't ma.s.sive."

"I don't want the money."

"Stop it, Josh-you're doing more than enough already."

"Hardly. And as we both know, if it wasn't for that b.l.o.o.d.y stupid n-"

"It wasn't Jo's fault-"

"I know!" broke in Josh, astonished. "I was going to say that stupid night, not that stupid nanny. If it wasn't for that stupid night and me being a prize moron, we'd be in a much better position-you'd be in a much better position. It's my fault, so the least I can do is help out."

"I'm very grateful. Please look at my books and let me know if it's worth carrying on. I can't live like this for much longer."

"You'll take my professional opinion?" asked Josh.

"Of course."

"But...you didn't when I told you not to fall for Jackie's sales pitch. Remember?"

d.i.c.k smiled. "You were still studying then. Give me a break."

"I just needed to check."

"I trust and respect your professional opinion."

"Wow," said Josh. "And what will you do if I suggest the worst?"

d.i.c.k took a deep breath. "Sell."

"And then what?"

"I'll jump off that bridge when I come to it," said d.i.c.k. "One thing at a time, eh?"

Josh nodded again. d.i.c.k came across and shook his new accountant by the hand.

Friday evening and Jo was more nervous about seeing Shaun than she had been when he visited her in London. Still at home, she brought down the dinner tray and placed it on the kitchen table. Her dad, wearing a pinny, put the dinner plates straight in the sink.

"Oh good," he said, looking at Hilda's leftovers. "She's eating much more isn't she?"

"Well it's so delicious," Jo said, looking up at the kitchen clock.

"It's Nigella."

"Ah."

"Will you give me a hand carrying the TV upstairs before you go, love?" asked her dad. "She wants to watch Midsomer Murders."

"Course."

"I don't want to make you late for Shaun," he added.

"No worries. He took long enough to call me back."

Bill followed her into the lounge. "You're not playing games with him, are you? Men don't like that."

"Dad," breathed Jo, lifting the TV. "How old am I?"

"Old enough to know better. Steady."

"No, that's you. I'm old enough to make my own decisions. I've got it, stop pushing."

"Alright alright. Left a bit. I just don't like to see a good man treated badly."

Jo decided to concentrate on maneuevering the television round the tight corner of the stairs instead of maneuvering her father round the twisted corners of her mind. Half an hour later, she lounged upstairs on her mum's bed watching TV, while her dad chatted to Shaun downstairs.

"Don't...stay..." murmured Hilda.

"I suppose I'd better go," agreed Jo. "Before Dad bores the pants off him. Have a good night. Enjoy the TV."

As she got to the door, she turned round and looked at her mother. Hilda opened her eyes wide.

"Good...luck," she whispered.

Jo smiled and made her way downstairs.

She stood outside the lounge for a second before opening the door. She was terrified of Shaun being indifferent to her, cold or just strange.

She needn't have worried. He looked terrified.

"Alright?" he said.

"Alright."

There was a pause.

"Right, well," said Bill, leaving the lounge. "I'll leave you lovebirds to it."

They all went to the hall, Bill going upstairs as they opened the front door. "See you when we see you Jo," he called from the stairs.

Jo considered smiling at Shaun, but didn't.

"They're watching what my mother wants on TV tonight," she explained to the cold spring evening.

"Oh."

"Quite a night, as you can imagine."

Shaun did something in between a smile and a laugh.

By the time they reached the restaurant, Jo was beginning to fear that Shaun was planning to propose again. All the signs were there-he'd gone quiet and pale like the other times, and she was filled with a vague sense of foreboding.

They sat down at their restaurant table and faced each other.

"Jo," started Shaun.

"Don't, please-"

"Don't what?"

There was a pause.

"I don't know," said Jo. "Sorry. What were you going to say?"

"Don't what?" he repeated.

"I don't know-"

"Then don't what?"

The waiter appeared.