As she was leaving they embraced. Roza stepped back and said- it was the first genuine thing she'd come out with - 'But you're looking gorgeous.'

Tamara laughed. 'I had Botox. Have you ever done it?'

'No. But really, you look great.' Roza blushed, thinking she sounded false, but Tamara only gave her a benevolent smile.

'I've got new hair, new body. Don't laugh, but I've got a personal trainer.'

Tamara was what the Sunday gossip columns called an 'A-lister', because her husband was rich and well-known, and she was a tall, good-looking blonde, and they went to charity b.a.l.l.s and fashionable parties, and were photographed at the polo and openings and fundraising dinners. The 'A-list' always appeared to Roza to be a figment of the insular imaginations of the journalists who compiled it, and to consist of a tacky gaggle of people with the most dubious claim to celebrity, but she saw Tamara felt she'd reached the pinnacle of success, and she was touched by her complacent happiness. If only she could feel happy like that!

They hugged again. Roza kissed Tamara's cute blonde kid

without quite remembering his name, and went home.

David called out. Roza brushed her hair, put on more lipstick and went downstairs. David had opened the door and was welcoming the Ellisons. Trish marched in first, kissed David and looked beyond him to Roza, who was standing on the bottom step, smiling uncertainly. Graeme shook David's hand and gripped his arm, pausing and leaning close as he always did, looking as if he were whispering some joke, although he was really just catching his breath. His asthmatic wheeze had got worse, and his cough was deep and rattling. He turned his head sideways and grinned up at Roza, then straightened up and came to meet her, but was beaten by his wife, who took Roza by the shoulders and air kissed her loudly, both sides. She drew back and said, 'Roza, you look beautiful. But do you think our David's got a bit thin?'

Roza smiled. 'Perhaps it's stress.'

'But he's amazing, he never shows stress. He's always so completely calm.'

'G'day, Roza darling,' Graeme said, wheezing. He grinned, showing his gapped teeth.

Trish was in overdrive. 'This is probably our last chance to get together before the main event. Roza and I will let you two conspire and not bother you.'

David said, 'We've obviously got our strategies sorted out, our people in place. This is a bit of light relief for us, er, Trish - which to be honest Roza and I need, don't we, Roza - a bit of a drink and dinner, so let's all relax and, ah, I'll get you a drink,' he finished up, clapping his hands and rubbing them, blinking rapidly.

'Light relief! Of course!' Trish sighed richly. She loved it that Graeme was part-architect of David's success, the father figure, the tough and seasoned campaigner, supplier of political advice, jokes, stiff drinks. It was, Roza thought, like a visit from David's grand old parents, she bursting with mumsy goodwill, he standing back, grinning, proud of David's imminent success, ready with advice, but only if it was wanted. Graeme and Trish made David sheepish, which amused Roza and also unnerved her. She wasn't used to seeing him at a loss.

Trish turned to Roza. 'Tell me everything, darling.'

'I've been busy at work.'

'You haven't reconsidered, about moving to Wellington?'

Roza looked down. 'We don't know if it's going to happen yet.'

Trish said carefully, as though to a child, 'But I'd be astonished if we don't win now, and so would everyone else. You've seen the polls, they're through the roof. You've got to plan ahead.'

'It's not that I haven't planned ahead. We both want to keep the house here, keep the kids at their schools.'

Trish sighed. 'Ye-es, well, it's so horribly cold in Wellington, isn't it, and the place is so very small. Last time we went there I said to Graeme, "Do you know, I think Wellington is shrinking. Do you think so?" And he thought about it and said that yes, actually it was. We were both sure it used to be bigger.'

Roza laughed.

'Still,' Trish added, 'poor David will be down there all week. Slaving away.' She looked sideways at Roza with her bright eyes.

'I want to keep my job up here,' Roza said.

'I suppose he'll have all his staff down there to help: his little press a.s.sistant, his PA - what's the girl's name? Everyone speaks highly of her. But it's not the same as family, is it.'

Roza said sharply, 'You'd have to ask David about that.'

She saw Trish register her sudden coldness and added, 'David and I have talked about this. He wants to keep our base in Auckland too.'

The doorbell rang. David came back with two more couples: Ed Miles and his wife Juliet, and the Lamptons. Karen seemed nervous. David came and stood close to her, giving her a friendly nudge and offering her a drink. He'd obviously noticed how easy it was to make her collapse into blushes and confusion.

Roza was uneasy at having to face Simon, and irritated by the memory of their meeting on the terrace at the Ellisons. His presence oppressed her, and she wished David hadn't agreed to Trish's suggestion that they invite the Lamptons. She felt Trish's eyes on her.

Simon came towards her, smiling, and she raised her chin and looked at him coldly. Dismayed by her expression, he hesitated, then rallied and shook her hand. She saw him frown as he met her challenging stare, and thought angrily, He probably expects me to blush and giggle. She bristled and almost pulled her hand away. But they'd helped each other that night. She remembered that she'd liked him.

She smiled properly and said, 'Would you like a drink?', at the same time as she thought, The father of my child. She wished they were alone, that she could talk to him and find out what he was like, maybe even ask about his daughter. At this thought she flushed and smiled broadly, this time with nervousness.

But he was wary now, puzzled by the changes in her expression, and didn't smile back. Roza had a moment when it seemed impossible to carry on, but she got a hold on herself and turned to talk to the women.

Karen was seated next to David at the table and became quite animated. David kept making her laugh. Simon watched them with a detached, tolerant expression. Roza noticed he wasn't excited by David's position. He didn't try to get close or to ingratiate; he seemed to avoid David, or to look beyond him, as if he couldn't quite take him seriously. He was preoccupied and gave distracted replies to Trish, who prodded him fondly and tried to draw him out.

The conversation was stiff at first but warmed up when Juliet Miles mentioned a recent violent crime.

Karen said, 'I'm looking forward to some reality in sentencing. They give them eight years and then turn them loose in three. And they let these maniacs out on bail.'

Juliet Miles said, 'The jails are too soft. They sit around watching TV. There should be some rigour, basically.'

'Well obviously, there's a lot we can do in terms of the, er, justice system, Juliet.'

'It's all about their welfare, and their special lessons and their cultural sensitivities. We've lost sight of the idea of punishment.'

'The sentences are a joke. Let the punishment fit the crime.'

Simon said, 'Don't we have one of the highest rates of imprisonment in the Western world?'

'Make it the highest. Maybe other countries don't have to deal with the kinds of people we do.'

Simon looked at his plate. 'The kinds of people ...'

'Well, let's not be PC here. The Maoris ... you've got to admit, if we didn't have Maoris our crime rate would be really low.'

Simon said, 'But we do have Maoris ...'

'And they end up in prison. Their choice,' Karen said.

Trish said, 'Simon's got such a kind nature. He feels sorry for people.'

Ed Miles leaned across the table. 'You can feel sorry for people, sure. But let's face it, the reality out there is that the crime rate is high, and if you actually had to deal with these people, if you met them, you'd realise they only understand one thing. And that's toughness. I think we have to look at making eight years really mean eight years, life mean life, and also making it less cushy inside.'

Simon looked depressed. 'Sentences have already gone up so much. These enormous non-parole periods ...'

Ed smiled blandly. 'That's good. But we can do more.'

Karen said, 'Great. Some of these people are animals.'

Simon looked at her. She noticed, and said defensively, 'You'd change your mind if you lived out with the criminals in South Auckland. You'd want the streets made safe.'

'If I lived in South Auckland ...' He broke off, staring at her.

She went on, 'But you don't. You live in your safe suburb, and you never go outside it. That's why you can afford to be "kind".'

'And you can afford to be cruel.'

'Simon!' Trish said, giving him a glare of affectionate reproach. 'How can you call your wife cruel? She cares so much. She slaves for charity.'

'For sports pavilions,' Simon said.

There was a silence.

Trish ended it by hugging Simon, telling him to apologise to his darling wife or she would send him outside, and signalling to Roza, who had been watching the exchange with interest, to create some distraction.

Roza jumped to and made a show of starting to clear plates for the next course. She got confused about what needed to be cleared, but Jung Ha came out of the kitchen and straightened things out and took over while Roza hovered, pretending to help and getting in the way. David stood up and poured more wine.

Trish patted Simon's arm and said to Karen, 'Simon sees the good in people.'

David said, 'I applaud that actually.' He raised his gla.s.s.

Juliet Miles frowned. 'I do too, in theory. But there's theory and then there's reality. Someone's got to make the hard decisions.'

Karen laughed coldly and said, 'Now Simon's going to say, "That's what the n.a.z.is said".'

'Simon doesn't want anyone to suffer, even jailbirds.'

Simon smiled and looked at his plate. When he raised his eyes Roza thought he looked agonised. Everyone laughed, and the conversation moved on.

The guests got through a lot of wine. They praised the food, and after the main course Jung Ha brought in a cake decorated with the party logo, which the caterer had done without being asked, and there was a round of clapping and cheering. The caterer lit a sparkler on top of it. After that they had coffee and moved around the table. Simon listened in on Ed and David's conversation about privatising the accident compensation scheme without a public outcry. They moved on to the idea of privatising prisons. When Ed persuaded David to go outside for a cigar, they were nodding together about 'presenting a centrist face at this point', and discussing the 'optics' of what they proposed.

Juliet focused on Simon with her crooked, intense frown and asked him about obstetrics. She tapped the table. 'This turf war between midwives and doctors ... Birth is natural, right?'

Simon agreed it was.

'So why does it have to be so medicalised?'

Simon caught Roza's eye. He said carefully, 'Well, yes, birth is natural. But perhaps what people forget is natural selection - the idea that nature actually intends a percentage of women and babies to die in the process. It's survival of the fittest. If you medicalise it, as you call it, you cheat nature.'

Juliet frowned. 'But persistent interventions ...'

Simon's eyes were on Roza. He abandoned his tactful tone. 'Natural means letting nature take its course. And nature doesn't care about healthy outcomes for all, only for the strongest. Nature says, if you're vulnerable, you die.'

Roza couldn't look away. She had the uncanny feeling that she and Simon were talking. The words ran around in her head, lost their sense and turned into babble. 'If you're vulnerable, you die.' She had the sense of overwhelming emotion swirling outside her mind, only just kept at bay.

Juliet's frown deepened. 'My sister's a midwife. You've probably met her. Sylvia Rand? She says doctors have taken over far too much. They take away a woman's right to a natural ...'

Simon smiled at Roza. His eyes seemed to glitter. He said, 'They used to do it naturally, a hundred years ago. The mortality rate was pretty high.'

Trish said, 'Darling, Roza might have a baby one day. Don't put her off.'

He shrugged. 'If she does, she can expect to have a good outcome. Just don't be too romantic about nature.' He glanced at Juliet. 'I'm sure your sister has a point, though,' he said, suddenly remembering his manners. 'There are lots of unnecessary interventions. Too many Caesareans, things like that.'

Roza said, 'Do you perform abortions?'

There was a sudden stillness in the room. Simon rested his fingers on the edge of the table. He said, 'Not now. I used to.' He hesitated and then raised his eyes. His tone hardened. 'I regarded it as a useful, humane public service. I still do.'

Roza sighed. 'I was brought up a Catholic.'

Simon met her gaze, steadily.

'But I agree with you,' she said.

There was a silence. David, coming in from his cigar with Ed, had broken off his conversation and was looking at Roza.

Simon said, 'Would you um, excuse me for a minute? Can I use the ...?'

Roza blinked, not understanding. 'The ...'

'Bathroom.'

'Oh, yes, sorry ... I'll show you.' She walked out into the hall and he followed. 'Just down there.' She stopped and he b.u.mped into her. He whispered rapidly, 'Sorry. Listen, I need to talk to you. I've had the referral letter from your GP. I can't ... I'm not sure about treating you. I'll probably ...' He hesitated. 'One of my partners will be happy to ... I mean, if you know someone socially you don't ... as a rule ... treat them.'

Roza hurried a couple of steps and peered into the kitchen. She called, 'Jung Ha, I'll come and make some more coffee. Can you just heat up the thing?' She pulled him along the hall and whispered, 'I don't want you to treat me. I need to talk to you. I'll explain then. I'm worried about using the phone. And about being seen.' She leaned against the wall and took a breath. 'I'm sorry. I know it's a bit unusual. I asked my doctor to make me an appointment with you because I want to talk to you and I feel, you know, eyes everywhere, on me, because of the situation, the election. I'm not free. Don't think I want to be a nuisance, please, or that I'm trying to compromise you. I just need to talk, and I can't think of anywhere more private.'

He shook his head, unwilling and mystified. She ducked back up the hall and looked into the sitting room. Trish and Graeme had moved across to a sofa with Karen and Juliet. She came back to him, her face fixed in an intense, embarra.s.sed smile. 'Just let me have one consultation. Then you can move me to your partner. Please.'

'Yes, all right. Roza, it's okay,' he said. 'You can come, of course. I'm just explaining that normally ...'

Her eyes flew open. 'This isn't normal,' she hissed.

He was bewildered. 'You mean your symptoms?'

'Oh.' She laughed without making a sound and whispered, 'I don't have any symptoms. No, sorry, don't look so surprised. I just need to talk to you and I don't want to be seen.'

'I understand. Well, I don't, but no,' he put his hands up, trying to rea.s.sure her, 'don't worry, that's fine.'

'Okay,' she said.

'Okay.' He looked behind them uneasily and said, 'I've had the referral for days and I couldn't decide what to do about it. You as a patient. It's not quite what I ...'