'The appointment's on Thursday,' she said, her eyes fixed on his face.

'Oh G.o.d, is it? I've got some theatre in the morning. I hope I won't be late.' There was a silence and then they both laughed.

'I'm sorry if it's a bit odd,' she said. Sudden intensity in her eyes.

'No, honestly, it's fine. All safe and private and fine. Roza, your face. My G.o.d, you have about a thousand expressions a minute.' He wanted to touch her, and had to force himself to turn away.

Jung Ha said, 'You want the coffee?' They jumped.

'Yes,' Roza said, going into the kitchen.

'Down here is it, the bathroom?' Simon asked. 'Here? Thanks so much.'

'No worries,' Jung Ha said.

Simon opened the bathroom door, feeling the housekeeper's eyes boring into his back. He turned with some nervous pleasantry, but she had gone.

Roza was too intense, there was such an uncanny brightness about her that she confused him; one minute she made him angry, the next she had him wanting to do anything for her. How did Hallwright deal with her? It could be rather stressful, living with such an unpredictable wife. But she'd seemed more in control before. He couldn't imagine what she wanted from her 'consultation'; he was full of curiosity, but nervous and unsure.

He thought, she really does look like Elke: there are the similar features but it's more the way she acts. She surprises me in the same way with those unexpected withdrawals and antagonistic looks, that haunted, wild expression, and then the sudden warmth.

He inspected himself in the mirror. Even in the dim, flattering candlelight of the Hallwrights' posh bathroom he looked battered. There was a broken vein spreading on his cheek, his eyes were bloodshot and his injured arm gave him an ache that got worse when he was tired. What with the pain and his patients and his anxieties he hadn't had a decent night's sleep in weeks. And yet he felt sharp; there was a mood on him that he got during long, understaffed shifts at the hospital, when he'd overcome difficulties, made quick decisions, his mind racing and his body in a state beyond exhaustion, where he felt he could go on forever. He looked like s.h.i.t, but he didn't feel like s.h.i.t. Hallwright looked like s.h.i.t too: he'd got thinner and his eyes were underscored by dark shadows, but he must feel the same kind of energy and momentum, now he was so close to getting what he wanted.

Simon went back to the sitting room. Roza was next to Karen on the sofa, handing around cups of coffee. He looked at her anxiously, but she'd relaxed, and was treating Karen with special warmth.

Karen was saying, 'It's expensive, but so worth it. It's a whole package - it takes hours. They shower you with a special shower and then cover your back with hot stones. Then there's a facial, and a ma.s.sage at the end. The whole works.'

'It sounds like torture, darling,' Trish purred.

'It's the perfect gift,' Karen said.

'Not that she's hinting,' Trish said to Simon, who smiled and looked away, not listening.

'It's called Total Body and Mind. I'll get you a brochure.'

'Simon? Got that? Total Body and Mind.' Trish poked his arm.

He turned back. 'Mind and body? I think about that. When women are giving birth, their mind doesn't know what their body's going to do next. It's a sort of starting point for the question.'

'What?' Karen said. 'What are you talking about?'

'The mind/body problem. You were saying ... What I mean is, there's the mind/body problem. It's the old philosophical question, the extent to which mind and body can be separated, whether they can be separated at all.'

Karen and Trish giggled and rolled their eyes. 'Simon. Stay awake. We were talking about Spa de Serville. This fabulous treatment.'

He looked at Roza. Her eyes lit up as she understood the remark. She said, 'It's whether we can separate ourselves from our body, even whether we choose our physical actions independently of our body. And when someone's giving birth they're helpless about what the body's doing, they don't know what it's going to do next. So it's a point of separation, at least between the body and the conscious mind. It's really a question about free will.'

'Exactly,' Simon said. 'It's about free will.'

Roza said dreamily, 'The longer I live, the less I believe in free will. It seems more to me as if we're shaped by outside circ.u.mstances, by environment. But we seem to want the idea of free will, especially since we're so keen on punishment. We want to lock people up for eighteen years with no parole. Some people, a surprising number, want to bring back hanging, and we couldn't do that with a clear conscience if we thought it wasn't just the criminal's free will but the way society's run, the way we all live, that had contributed to the crime.'

Karen stared, her lips parted.

Trish said, 'More coffee, anyone?'

Roza broke off and turned to Karen. She gave her a brilliant smile. 'Trish says you have three children. You're so lucky. Tell me about them. Trish says they're all at school, but you look too young to have children that age. You must have been a child bride.' She glanced at Simon, her eyes shining.

Simon couldn't stop looking at her. Now she'd relaxed she was extremely beautiful. Her eyes radiated such intelligence and force that it was almost alarming, more so because the full power of her personality seemed to be only just held in check. He watched Karen, having bristled at Roza's comments about free will, subside under the radiance of her smile.

Karen started talking about the kids. Trish watched, looking thoughtful.

Roza was listening as though Karen were the most fascinating person she'd ever met. Karen told a few comic stories: the funny things kids do. Roza followed every word. Simon sat silent. I suppose she'd like to have a kid of her own, he thought, uneasy. It was like watching his nice, straightforward Karen flitting innocently near some kind of wild, beautiful Fury. He felt tense, waiting for the mood to change.

David and Ed came in from another cigar, reeking of smoke. In a sudden nervous movement Roza got up, interrupting Karen, muttered something under her breath about more wine and went out to the kitchen.

'Pooh,' Trish said, flapping her hands. 'Smoke! Anyway, I hope you've set the world to rights out there.'

'I love the smell of cigars,' Karen said, smiling up at David.

'I'll squash in next to you then,' he said, taking Roza's place, jamming Karen against him and giving her a cheeky grin. She blushed, and Simon thought, He can't talk very well but he's a sort of physical genius. He can communicate with women that way. He gets through their barriers, he snuggles up. It's not surprising she likes him so much.

There was a strange, harsh noise.

Graeme had bent over in his seat and was trying to catch his breath. David got up awkwardly; Simon turned and knelt in front of Graeme. The old man was heaving, his face red, his hands weakly flapping. Simon took his shoulders and sat him up, leaning him against the back of the sofa.

'It's all right, I'm all right,' Graeme gasped. He drew in a terrible crackling breath. He closed his eyes and said, 'No, really. I choked but it's gone now.'

They all rushed about, Trish holding a gla.s.s of water up to his chin, Karen asking if she should call an ambulance, David patting Graeme's shoulder and then Karen's.

Simon watched Graeme for a moment. 'I think he's all right now. Who's his specialist?' he asked, drawing Trish aside. 'You'd better get him an appointment tomorrow. I'd say he's all right to go home now though.'

Graeme was helped off the sofa, protesting. 'I just breathed in some water, don't make a fuss, you fools.' He grinned at Roza. 'Thank you. I can tell I'm going to be marched off to bed.'

They all walked out to the car and Trish said she wouldn't have any problem at the other end; there was the driver Ted and a thousand of her offspring in the house who would help lever Daddy inside. She kept thinking of one last thing to say, until Graeme croaked from the car, 'Come on, old girl,' and she got in finally, and they drove off.

The others said they'd go too.

'Back to the children,' Karen said archly to Roza.

'Of course. The children,' Roza said, with her strange, radiant smile. She turned to Simon and kissed him on the cheek. 'Thank you so much for coming.'

He nodded, unable to speak. David watched them.

The caterers and Jung Ha cleared up while Roza drifted in and out with an absorbed, expectant expression, as though she were waiting to see something miraculous at any moment. Carrying a load of plates, Jung Ha waited, pointedly, to pa.s.s her. She stood for a while watching the help working on the mess. David, on his way to the study, leaned over and kissed her cheek.

'All right?' he said.

She smiled. 'I enjoyed myself tonight.'

'Not bored to death?'

'No, it wasn't boring at all.' She stepped back and b.u.mped into Jung Ha, knocking cutlery out of her hand. 'Oh, sorry Jung Ha. No,' she turned to David as Jung Ha knelt on the carpet beside her, picking up forks and spoons, 'Trish was right about the Lamptons. It was a good idea to invite them. Everyone was so nice. ' She stepped back again, nearly standing on Jung Ha, and looked down at her, surprised. 'What are you doing down there, Jung Ha? Oh, sorry ... But yes,' turning to David again, 'I just felt happy tonight.'

She walked out of the room. Jung Ha looked up at David from the floor, expressionless. Roza came back in. 'Jung Ha? Was the stuff in the blue bowl important? Only the dog's gone and knocked it all down and the cat's eating it.' She smiled. 'They're terrible aren't they, the animals? You'd think we starved them, the way they carry on.' She walked out again. They heard her talking to the dog. 'Get off, you savage. It's everywhere. How are they going to get it off everything? The whole floor. G.o.d. What a mess!'

She came back in. 'David, aren't you coming to bed? I'm so tired I've got to go up.'

He said, 'I'll be up soon. Just be in the study for a minute.'

'Oh? All right.'

Jung Ha finished picking up the cutlery and went to look at the kitchen floor.

David spent some time checking emails. At 2 a.m. he went to the kitchen to make himself a cup of tea. Jung Ha emptied a bucket into the sink and wiped her hands. 'Finish,' she said.

He leaned against the bench and rubbed his eyes wearily. 'Thank you, JH.'

'No worries. Well, off to bed.' She paused. 'Nice people tonight eh.'

'The guests. Yeah. They're nice people.'

'That one with the curly hair, with the blonde wife. Nice man.'

'Simon Lampton.'

'Yeah. Simon. He old friend of Madame Roza.'

'Old friend? Not really. More new friend.'

'Oh. I thought they old friends. When they talk here in the hall. Whispering away. So sweet. I thought they muss have like gone to school together.'

David looked at her. 'Really.'

'Night,' she said.

'Good night, Jung Ha.' He left her.

Pa.s.sing through the dining room, Jung Ha smiled savagely, and paused to kick a last spoon under the sofa with her foot. She went to her flat over the garage. Roza had turned off the lights in the bedroom but the blinds were still open. Her clothes were strewn across the floor. The moon shone behind the tree branches, soft black clouds moving across it. David opened the window and heard the harsh purr of a possum. The sound gave him the creeps. He closed the window and pulled down the blinds. Roza muttered, 'David, come to bed, hurry up. Come here.'

He got undressed, folding his clothes, putting them in the right places, placed his shoes in the line in the bottom of the wardrobe, then bent to pick up Roza's clothes, folding them and laying them on a chair. He went to the children's rooms and looked in. They were asleep. All was in order, the house was silent.

He went back to the bedroom. Roza was lying on her side facing away from him, breathing evenly. She didn't move as he stood in the dark, looking at the shape of her in the bed.

He settled down carefully, resting his cheek on the warm curve of her hip. He lay in the dark, listening.

thirteen.

Roza looked at David across the table. It was early morning, down there in the Hallwrights' kitchen. Outside the light dimmed and brightened as clouds crossed the sun and from upstairs came the sound of Jung Ha rousing the children. A ray of light crossed the room, making a sparkling line of dust motes. Roza squinted, watching all those tiny dancing specks, and chasing a thought that had crossed her mind and seemed now, abruptly, to have left again, slamming the door behind it.

'I mean. I mean ...' She gave up. Her smile (like her body, like her resolve) was weak. 'I don't know what I meant.'

'Look pale darling,' David said, through a mouthful of toast. He was reading something. He frowned and flipped back a couple of pages, checking.

'Pale? Do I?' Funny, she thought. She didn't feel pale, more like she'd been travelling at high speed in a hot wind. Cheeks flayed, eyes streaming, mouth dry. She sipped her tea; her hand, she was pleased to note, was steady.

She watched David reading. His lips moved. She wondered what it was doing to him - their new life. She knew what it was doing to her, but to him? They'd given him a thorough makeover - new hair, media training, new clothes - and it had worked, had made him appear smooth, competent and photogenic. He needed elocution lessons, but it was suspected in party circles that his strangled way of speaking, the train-wreck sentences, malapropisms and misp.r.o.nounced words, were a hit with the public. The public thought the current government was a bunch of blue-stocking, ivory tower academics, all abstract principles and nanny state over-regulation. The current government would rather c.r.a.p on about gay rights and whales and Maoris and 'environmental concerns' for G.o.dsake, than work out how to look after the people. The country was overrun with criminals, business was strangled, the nanny state wouldn't even let people smack their own kids, bureaucracy was running riot, taxes were enormous, and only so the bureaucrats could go on bleeding everyone dry and lecturing on how they should live. It was time for a straightforward man who cared about the real things: money, business, families, the mortgage. Who would talk to the people, not at them. All that. That was the narrative the party was promoting.

Roza sighed. All that. What did she think about all that? She was apolitical. It was a flaw. She avoided thinking about politics because she was too preoccupied with her own survival. Had marrying David been a means of survival? Perhaps all marriages were that - maybe even for David. She loved him. But had she ever been in love with him? Did he love her? These thoughts crossed her mind, made her uncomfortable, and then vanished into the air. What would it do to David if he won? He would know he'd finally left his old self behind. He liked to talk about the 'politics of aspiration'. When he gave speeches to high school kids he sketched an outline of his childhood; he would tell them how, in this country, anyone could succeed. For him, it was personal, so much so that people wondered whether he had any politics at all, beyond the goal of realising his own ambition.

Roza covered her right eye with her hand.

'Headache?' David said, without looking up.

The children were thumping down the stairs. He put the papers in his bag and came round to Roza. 'You all right?'

'I'm fine.'

He pulled out the chair beside her and sat down. 'I was sort of hoping you might be, you know.'

She frowned.

'Pregnant,' he whispered.

'You shouldn't think about it. If you worry about it all the time it doesn't happen. I don't know, anyway. Just wait and see.'

'All right, don't freak out. It doesn't matter. I just like the idea, that's all. It'd gimme something to think about, apart from my own greatness.' He grinned, kissed her and stood up but she gripped his arm and pulled him down, and they kissed again.

Behind them Mike made a disgusted sound.

'G'day buddy,' David said. 'h.e.l.lo Mousey.' He picked up Izzy and tickled her. She squeaked and writhed. Mike sank into his chair and eyed Roza.

'Dianne here,' Jung Ha said, coming in from the hall.

And Dianne bounced in, with her pony-tail, her bright smile. 'h.e.l.lo people!'

David looked at his watch. He said coldly, 'Can you just wait in the car until I'm ready thanks, Dianne.'

Dianne stopped short. There was a pause. The children looked from their father to Dianne.

'Oh. Okay. I am a bit. Early.' She turned and walked out of the room.

David raised an eyebrow at Roza. He drew her aside, into the hallway outside the kitchen, pushed her against the wall, and whispered, 'I f.u.c.king love you, Roza.'