'Fifteen,' Chrissie said.

The young couple said that they were no longer interested at that price.

'I will leave in six weeks,' Chrissie said, 'and I will take twenty thousand off the asking price.'

'Oh G.o.d, Mum,' Dilly said, 'do you know what you're doing?'

'Not really,' Chrissie said, 'but I'm going on instinct. I'm excited.'

'You're overexcited-'

The young couple said that they would agree to exchange within two weeks and twenty-five thousand off, but that they were of course now looking at other properties.

'Done,' Chrissie said, 'done. And I've taken the job at Leverton's.'

'You can't-'

'I can.'

'She can!'

'What do you know,' Tamsin said to Dilly, 'you've never earned a penny in all your life.'

'I will be,' Dilly said. 'I'm looking for work now. I will be.'

'Playing houses,' Tamsin said scornfully, 'in that poky flat.'

'It could be a pretty flat,' Chrissie said. She was stirring Sunday-night scrambled eggs. 'I'll ring the owner in the morning. I'll tell him that the minute I've exchanged contracts on this I'll sign the lease.'

'Not before,' Tamsin said.

'I know not before,' Chrissie said irritably. 'Please do stop treating me like a halfwit.'

There was a fractional startled pause.

'Sorree,' Tamsin said in an offended voice.

'I've bought and sold houses before,' Chrissie said. 'I've lived on my own and earned my own living, I'll have you know. And you can't even manage to move into a flat that's being provided for you, complete with customized wardrobe.'

The landline telephone rang.

'I'll get it,' Tamsin and Dilly said in unison.

There was a small scuffle. Dilly was quicker. She twitched the handset out of its mooring and held it hard to her ear.

'h.e.l.lo? Oh, hi, Ames. How goes it? How're you doing?'

There was a considerable silence. Chrissie took the egg pan off the cooker and continued to stir with elaborate concentration. Tamsin leaned against the nearest wall and folded her arms, fixing her gaze resolutely on some midpoint halfway down the kitchen. Dilly stayed where she was, listening. Then, after what seemed an unconscionable time, she said, 'Oh wow,' and, 'Jesus, Amy,' and then, 'You'd better talk to Mum. Hadn't you?'

Chrissie stopped stirring. Tamsin stood upright. Chrissie held her hand out for the phone.

'Big deal, Ames,' Dilly said into the phone, taking no notice.

Chrissie took a step closer.

'Please-'

'Give it to her!' Tamsin said sharply.

'They're going mad here,' Dilly said. 'Shall I pa.s.s you over?' Then she laughed. 'Countdown,' she said. 'Ready? Three, two, one, Mothah!'

She handed the telephone to Chrissie.

'And?' Tamsin demanded.

Dilly ignored her. She was watching Chrissie. Chrissie was listening intently. Then she said, 'But I want you home tomorrow. You promised you would be back tomorrow-'

'She's not staying?' Tamsin hissed.

'She's fallen in love with some music thing,' Dilly said, still watching Chrissie. 'Some folk-music degree, or something. Sounded a bit weird to me.'

'Folk-music degree?'

'She sounded completely mental about it. Newcastle University or something. Where is Newcastle?'

'Well, obviously I can't force you,' Chrissie said, 'but it does seem very strange, very sudden. You've only been there ten minutes-'

'They've brainwashed her,' Tamsin said.

'I wish somebody'd wash your brain,' Dilly said with spirit. 'You mightn't think you're right all the time if they did.'

'You can be such a little cow-'

'All right,' Chrissie said, 'all right. Of course I'm not going to forbid you. I couldn't forbid you, in any case. I suppose-' She stopped. Then she said with difficulty, 'I suppose I should wish you luck. Well, I do. I do wish you luck, darling. If this is what you want.'

'Oh my G.o.d,' Tamsin said, uncrossing her arms and flinging them out dramatically. 'This family is falling apart.'

Dilly went over to the cooker and prodded at the egg with a wooden spoon.

'It's all gone rubbery-'

'Yes,' Chrissie said. She sounded tired, defeated. 'Yes. Well, ring and tell me. Or text me. At least text me. Oh, and Amy? I sold the house. Yes. Yes, I think so, I think that too. OK, OK, darling. Night night.'

She took the phone away from her ear and held it, looking down at it.

'What have they done to her?' Tamsin said.

When Amy woke, it was broad daylight and the uncurtained window by the bed was full of the wide, high, cloud-streaked Northern sky. She lay there for a while, so that her mind could swim slowly to the surface, past all the events of the day before, past the lunch and the conversation, past the discoveries and the phone call home, and past much more savouringly the marvellous unexpected midnight hours when Scott had at last sat down at the piano and played, and she had retrieved her flute from her rucksack and joined him, and it was better than talking, better than anything, better even than playing with Dad had been, because Scott played like an equal, played as if only the music mattered and who cared who was following or leading.

It was past two in the morning before either of them thought of the time. And then Amy had discovered she was starving and they had eaten a bag of cashew nuts and some cheese slices Scott found in the fridge and shared a battered KitKat from the bottom of his work bag. Going into his bedroom, Amy had been almost overwhelmed by the need to thank him, to say that she felt rescued, guided, excited, but had not known how to do any of that without embarra.s.sing both of them, so she had put her arms round his neck, awkwardly and in silence, and he had somehow understood, and had given her a quick, hard hug, and said, 'You're not the only one who's had a good day,' and let her go.

Then he said, 'I'll be gone in the morning, remember. It's Monday.'

'Oh-'

'I took a half-day off, Friday. Can't do more right now.'

'No, I know, I knew-'

He was tossing a pillow and an unzipped sleeping bag on to the sofa.

'Mr Harrison'll look after you. He'll show you the Sage. He knows his way round the music scene better than I do, in any case.'

Mr Harrison! Amy shot up in bed. Where was her watch? What was the time? What would happen if she kept Mr Harrison waiting?

'It was opened in 2004,' Bernie Harrison said. 'It's bigger than two football pitches and twice the height of The Angel of the North. And up there,' he pointed to the vast curved roof soaring high above them, 'there's six hundred-some-odd panes of gla.s.s, and each one weighs more than two baby elephants.'

Amy was turning slowly, head thrown back, gawping.

'I've run out of things to say-'

'I'm old enough to remember the Northern Sinfonia being founded,' Bernie said. 'It was 1958. Michael Hall. I was sixteen, same age as your-' He stopped. 'No, I suppose she isn't your anything, Margaret, is she?'

Amy retrieved her dazzled gaze from the immensity of the Sage's roof.

'Not really-'

'Your father's first wife is just your father's first wife.'

Amy swallowed.

'She she was his only wife. He and Mum never-'

Bernie Harrison cleared his throat.

'Well, don't let it trouble you. Doesn't trouble me. You made your mark with Margaret, I can tell you.'

'I hope she wasn't upset about me not staying-'

'She's got a mind of her own and she likes to see one in other people. I've known her since she was a stroppy little object in pigtails. We grew up in a different world from now, Margaret and me. You wouldn't believe, now, our world had ever been, sometimes. It was hard, though. You can't really miss something that hard.'

Amy looked past him, along the immense shining s.p.a.ces of floor, to the gla.s.s walls and the view of the river. She said a little hesitantly, 'So, the Grand Hotel-'

'Yes,' Bernie said firmly. 'She'd deny it, but that's why we like places like the Grand Hotel. We've made our mark and our bra.s.s and we like value for it. Quality.'

'Of course.'

'It may be different in London-'

'Please don't talk about London.'

Bernie glanced at her.

'Very well.'

'I've just fallen in love with all this-'

'It doesn't take half an eye to see that.'

'Everyone,' Amy said, 'has been so lovely to me.'

Bernie indicated that Amy should follow him across to the stupendous windows, to lean on the steel bal.u.s.trade and look down on the river and the bridges.

He said, looking at the view, 'We've all got something to give each other.'

'I haven't,' Amy said, 'I haven't got anything. I've only just left school. I couldn't even buy my own train ticket up here.'

'You're too sharp to take me literally. It's not about the money.'

'Not having any makes you a bit helpless-'

'Are you going to let that stand in your way?'

'No,' Amy said uncertainly.

'There's ways and means. There's grants. There's charities that like giving bursaries for music. There'll be a way if you want it.'

'I want it so much-'

'Well,' Bernie said, 'we'll see. You'd have to work hard for a year, you'd have to get some experience. But if something comes of it, it'll cheer us all up, I can tell you. We've got in a bit of a rut.'

'Up here?' Amy said, incredulous, gesturing at the slim white arc of the Millennium Bridge. 'Up here? With all this?'

'We've grown up with all this,' Bernie said. 'We've watched this city come alive again. My mother worked in a sweet factory in North Shields, and I drive a Jaguar and I like a fancy place to eat. But for all that, you keep needing a new energy, you never stop looking for the next little push and shove. I'll tell you something. I've got a good business here, a solid business. This place well, this place means I can think of performers I couldn't even consider ten years ago. But I still look to change, I look to improve all the time, and don't ask me who for, because I've got no children and I don't know who for, in the future, I only know it's for me, right now. And what I want right now is for Margaret to come in with me, and manage the areas of the business that she manages better than anyone. She knows the North-East entertainment business like the back of her hand. And she won't come. She goes fiddling on with that little tinpot business of hers, and she won't come.'

'Why?'

'Because,' Bernie said, 'she's stuck in a rut of her own.'

Amy put both hands on the rail and leaned back, her feet braced.

'I thought I was stuck.'

'You're never stuck at eighteen.'

'But if it's how you feel-'

Bernie Harrison glanced at her.