'I'm not sure ...?' Roza said, blushing.

Tamara laughed.

Roza screwed up her eyes and dug her nails into her palm, trying to think of something neutral to say, but the conversation drifted, changed, found its way back to mundane things.

Roza made sure she stayed until the others had left, and then longer after that. She helped Tamara clear the table.

'What you think of them?'

'Nice,' Roza said. Her voice was too high, unnatural. She looked away. All she'd done was have coffee with three ordinary women, and it had been torture!

She said carefully, 'The journalist ...'

'Yeah, Nicki. Did you like her?' Tam smiled.

'Lovely. Although I rather avoid journalists at the moment.' Roza was suddenly angry again. 'Considering my position, and what you and I have been up to ...'

Tam turned, a combative glint in her eye. Roza thought, here it comes. She does want a fight. And I don't, I don't. I want to be able to come back here.

Tam said in a sugary voice, 'Do you want me to make sure none of my friends come over while you're here?'

'No, don't be silly.'

Tam folded her arms. 'Do you tell anyone you come here? Do you tell David?'

Roza murmured, 'I think of it as a secret place. Where you and I can be free.'

'A secret place.' Tam tossed a cloth into the sink. 'Your dirty little secret, I suppose.'

'Why should I tell people? Is that what you care about? Why do you want people to know I come here?'

Tam hesitated.

'Is that all you care about?' Roza repeated angrily. 'You want people to know. Why? So you can say you're a friend of mine?'

Tam flinched. She said coldly, 'Don't flatter yourself.'

'I don't flatter myself. That's the point. I f.u.c.king don't. I just want to be left alone,' Roza shouted.

There was a silence. Tam's dog scrabbled at the French window.

'You want to be alone. Be my guest,' Tam said. 'Close the gate on your way out.'

Roza recoiled. Tam, her face set in a lumpy, stubborn scowl, pointed at the door.

Controlling herself, clenching and unclenching her fists, Roza came forward, breathing quickly.

She said softly, 'Tam, please. Don't be like this. You've been so nice, so understanding. I've told you I'm on edge all the time. You can't be surprised if I'm nervous. Think of what you and I have been doing. Who I'm married to! And the election coming up. It's not games any more. It's not like when we were kids and everything was a laugh. I meant I want to be alone with you. Just at the moment. But I know that's unreasonable. I'm sorry. I'm sorry. Will you forgive me?'

Tam opened her mouth to speak. Roza's eyes filled. She squeezed them shut and the tears spilled. 'I just want us to stay friends,' she said. 'I liked meeting ... your friends today.' She had forgotten their names. 'They were so nice.'

The dog managed to push open the door and burst into the room, making high-pitched noises, squirming and turning with excitement.

'Get off, you,' Tam said, heaving him out of the way. She said, not looking at Roza, 'Let's forget it. I think you're being extremely paranoid, that's all.'

Roza brightened. Her eyes shone and she heaved a big, quavery sigh. 'I know. I'm really sorry.'

'And I don't appreciate you shouting at me like that.'

Roza looked at her without expression. 'No. Sorry. Bad of me.'

Tam pursed her lips. 'Seeing some other people would do you good. You need to relax. I know it would do you good, Roza.' She lingered pompously on Roza's name. Her smile was censorious.

Roza stared for a second, then shivered all over. 'Brrr,' she said.

With a grin, she threw her arms around Tam.

'T,' she said. 'I've just had a brilliant idea. How about a change of scene? Next time we feel like a bit of private recreation, why don't you come over to my place?'

Roza kissed Tam on the cheek. She waved and drove away fast, licking her dry lips and grinding her teeth together with a little squeaky sound. Just before leaving, in Tam's bathroom, she'd used some of the contents of the envelope, and her anxiety had melted away, vanished into the silvery-bright air. Now she laughed. Brilliant. Why hadn't she thought of it before? Control the environment. Don't come here; get Tam over, chez nous. She'll like seeing the house. Then she can't create any problems. Then she can't mess with me. Roza narrowed her eyes, hating Tam. The way she'd said, 'I don't appreciate you shouting at me.' b.i.t.c.h. Power-crazed bint.

A car tooted as Roza sped wildly into the next lane. Sometimes she loved the controlled aggression of driving.

She'd been completely paralysed by confessing to Simon. It hadn't taken a load off her mind as she'd antic.i.p.ated; it had made her terrified. She had seen the way Simon's mind had started working: he was a practical man, he'd immediately started to work on a solution. She should have foreseen this. After all, he was Elke's father, responsible, conscientious. And understanding this had filled her with shame. He had started wondering what was best for Elke while she was only thinking of herself.

But now she thought, I'm the mother but I'm not the parent. I gave her away. Legally. It isn't my job to find a solution. There was something wrong with this, but her feelings were pushed far away now, beyond the silver barrier. Everything was changed by the magic contents of the plastic packet; now, fortified, she felt she could see her way forward, do whatever she liked, without worrying about Simon, or Tam, or anyone.

The radio was advertising a leaders' debate, due to take place that week. David would be back in town, and she would have to work out how to fit in a visit from Tam, when no one was around except Jung Ha. They needed total privacy. And then it occurred to her: what about the police? They'd been coming over unannounced in the last two weeks, with their site plans and their schedules. Still, she could work things out; she and Tam could deal with it. She felt a rush of amus.e.m.e.nt at the potential for slapstick: Roza and Tam slinking through the house, the diplomatic protection squad on their tail. It was all marvellously possible.

In this mood she breezed into work and spent time on her computer, rapidly clearing emails.

Her phone rang. A man said, 'Hi. It's Ron.'

'Ron?'

'Well, not really. It's Ray. Ray Marden.'

'Oh Ray, how's it going?' she said loudly.

There was a silence. She went on typing an email, holding the phone against her cheek.

He said, 'I don't want to intrude.'

'It's fine.' Her fingers flew over the keys.

'I've been through the notes you've made. I'm ... it was good of you. It's useful.'

Roza laughed. 'No problem,' she said carelessly, finishing the email and clicking on send. But she dropped the phone; it slithered down under her desk. She hauled it up by the tangled wire. 's.h.i.t. Ray, you there? Dropped the phone.'

He said, 'If I had a couple of extra questions, how could I ...?'

'Fire away.'

'I've got quite a few. I don't want to take up your time. Could I post them to you?'

Roza leaned back in her seat and gazed out the window. It was another unseasonably mild and luminous day. The sun appeared from behind a cloud and angled in, warming her through the gla.s.s. She stretched, yawned, watching a seagull as it flew past the window and swooped up, riding the wind, turning and turning in the air. A feeling welled up in her, so reckless and happy ...

'Why don't we have lunch?' she said.

'Lunch. Is that a good idea?'

'Why not? You and I have lunch. So what? What is this, a police state?' She laughed, watching the seagull turning in the bright air. Police state. It was exquisitely funny. In the distance she could see the harbour, sparkling with points of light. She felt marvellous.

'Mrs ... Roza. Are you sure about what you're saying?'

'Don't be such a cop.' She laughed. 'Do you eat lunch? Do you lunch?' She wanted to shout with laughter. 'Let's just go crazy and ...' She lowered her voice, 'do lunch.'

Cheryl walked slowly past the door. Roza screwed up her face.

Ray said, 'Are you all right?'

'Ray, I am wonderful. I am sick of slinking around like I've committed a crime. I would like to do lunch, and I want you to come.'

He didn't say anything.

Cheryl walked past the door again. She looked in.

'h.e.l.lo?' Roza said into the phone. 'You there?'

He hesitated, then said quietly, 'I could meet you at that kiosk again. No one goes there except tourists. But ...'

'Now?' Roza said. She reached under the desk for her bag.

'In half an hour. Only ...'

'What?' Roza had her eye on Cheryl. She directed the word at her, but Cheryl didn't move.

Ray said, 'Only my wife won't be there. She's working, at a conference.'

'Well, why does that matter? I'm not going to eat you. We're not going to eat each other.' She laughed.

'Christ,' he said.

'Stop worrying. We'll buy a roll. We'll eat it. We'll chat about stuff. In private.' Roza's eyes were on Cheryl.

'See you in half an hour,' he said, and hung up.

Roza slammed down the phone. 'What's up?' she said.

Cheryl leaned against the door and folded her arms.

'Well?' Roza looked through her bag, irritated. Cheryl was getting in the way of her mood. She licked her dry lips. Make-up spilled onto the desk; she scrabbled to pick it up.

Cheryl said sweetly, 'You just sent me an email? Ten minutes ago? Saying we needed to discuss, oh, I don't know, about five different things?'

Roza looked blank. 'Oh. G.o.d. Sorry, I forgot.' As she searched for her lipstick she could see Cheryl reflected in the window, still not moving. Roza turned, with a rush of anger. 'What?' she said.

Cheryl threw up her hands. 'I thought you wanted to discuss ...'

'I don't. I forgot. I've got something to do.'

'Right. Have a nice lunch.' Cheryl turned on her heel and walked out.

Roza looked at herself in the gla.s.s. Her eyes were large and intense, her hair stood out from her head. She radiated feeling, she was electric. Beyond her reflection the seagull wheeled and dived. The sun streamed in and warm air rippled up the gla.s.s. She had a sensation of intense physical luxury, a reckless, swooning feeling. She was free. Anything was possible; everything was beautiful. She was ready to meet the world; she defied it; she was exhilarated.

She sat on a wall outside the gla.s.shouses, under a tall cypress tree. The palms sent strange curved shadows across the gra.s.s, spirals of darkness. She sipped a sugary fizzy drink; it was all she could stomach. A party of school children got out of a bus on the hill and was herded up the slope towards the museum. The air was still and the sun warmed her, and she liked the spicy smell of the cypress and the harsh quacking from the duck pond; everything was registering in eye and ear and skin - no mind. No mind, she thought. All body, no mind.

Ray came up the slope carrying a manila folder. He was wearing dark gla.s.ses and a peaked cap.

Roza leaned back against the cypress, crushing a bit of leaf in her hand.

'Love your disguise,' she said, grinning. He looked so ridiculous.

He lowered the gla.s.ses, studying her over the top of them. His mouth turned up in a pained sort of smile, but his eyes were troubled.

Roza got up and looked around. 'Let's go in there,' she pointed. 'I love the old gla.s.shouses.'

They entered the hushed, musty, humid air of the first gla.s.shouse. Light streamed down through the speckled panes as they pa.s.sed under vast lush pots of hanging plants to the courtyard beyond. Ray followed her to the fish pond, where she stood looking at the lily pads, their coloured flowers trailing across the green water. Plump goldfish cruised lazily, flicking their tails and rising to catch little insects that skated jerkily across the surface. The courtyard was quiet and peaceful in the lemony sunlight. They were alone.

Roza lifted her eyes to the blue sky. The words went round in her head. All body. No mind. She drifted away from the pond to sit down on a wooden seat, and Ray paused at a slight distance, wary and undecided.

'Sit down,' she said. 'Don't look so worried.'

He sat next to her, resting his folder on his knees. 'Last time we met you were the worried one.'

'I don't care any more,' Roza said. 'Today I just want to do what I like.'

'I had the idea I could mail you some questions. I don't want to impose, make a problem for you.'

'You don't need to post anything. Just ring me and we'll meet. Any time.'

He cleared his throat. 'Mrs Hallwright. Last time we met we discussed the reasons why it maybe wasn't such a good idea for you to meet me. Do you remember?'

Roza sighed. 'I don't care about that. I'm too happy.' She turned her face up and half-closed her eyes. 'When you look at the sky, do you see millions of particles, rising and falling in your eyes?'

He laughed, exasperated. 'Christ,' he said. He looked closely at her.

'Look up,' she said. 'It's so amazingly blue. What a beautiful sky. It's like enamel.'