She wanted him to see her. She wanted him to say her name. She wanted to know that he knew what was happening, knew what she wanted. At last. She was free to come to him, and she'd come to him, and now she wanted to be as close to him as it was possible to be, closer than she'd ever been. She didn't need to put the thought of Helena out of her head she wasn't in there. This was right.

His hands were in her hair, pulling her mouth on to his. The kisses were slow and deep, as if they had all the time in the world.

Susannah put the heels of her hands into his chest, and pushed herself up, and away from him. 'Rob.'

He opened his eyes sleepily.

'Rob. It's me, Susannah.'

'Of course it's you. It's always been you. My Susannah. My love.'

'I want you, Rob. I want all of you. Now. Please.'

His eyes were glazed with sleep and desire. 'Are you sure?'

How could he ask? It must be written all over her. 'I've never been so sure of anything. Not ever. Please.'

It was as though she'd released something in him at last, and he wasn't gentle any more. He flipped her over, easily, and that strength was so sexy she couldn't believe it. He was on top of her, covering her, his legs forcing hers apart, so that she wrapped them around his back. She felt tiny and weak. His hands roamed all over her. He kissed every piece of her skin that he could reach. Sucked on her and grazed her with his teeth, scratching her with his beard. His touch was at once familiar and new, as though he'd been touching her this way all her life, and at the same time as though he'd never laid a hand on her before.

When they had passed the point of no return, when they couldn't have stopped if they'd tried, he entered her, so slowly, raised up on his elbows, staring into her eyes, and the moment seemed so enormous, so important, that she wanted to stop, be still, and concentrate on it. This very moment, this had been twenty years in the making. She wanted to laugh, and cry, and shout out loud. She wanted to talk to him about it. But at the same time she couldn't have stopped moving if her life depended on it. She came, almost immediately, though she hadn't known she was so close. The orgasm shook her, seeming to travel through her arms and neck and spine and to explode out through her legs. She felt her toes flex and curl. But there was more, much more. Their bodies fit together, and their movements matched each other, stroke for stroke. It felt delicious.

Much, much later that same morning, Saturday, the two of them lay together under the duvet eating bacon sandwiches and drinking hot, sweet tea. They'd made love twice more in the early morning light, unable to get enough of each other, and fell asleep at last sometime around the time she would normally have been waking up. Susannah's legs were aching pleasantly. When she'd arrived last night, her head had been so full of thoughts and feelings, it had all seemed overwhelming. The sex had wiped her mind clear of everything except the sensations she was giving and receiving. And now it felt like the storm had passed the air was crystal bright and clean and the seas were calm, and the way forward was utterly clear.

'I want us to be together.' She said it first.

'That's what I want, too.' He nodded decisively, as though they'd reached agreement, then fell silent for a few moments.

She knew where his mind had gone.

His fingers stroked her shoulders. 'I can't tell Helena while she's away. I won't do that to her.'

'I know.' She did know.

Neither of them said it, but they both remembered.

'She's back in a couple of months. I'll tell her then.'

'And while we wait?'

He turned so that their faces were close together. 'I should stay away from you. We've waited this long that's how it feels and I should be strong enough to wait a while longer.'

'But ...' She stopped breathing. It seemed impossible to be away from him now.

He kissed her. 'But I don't think I can.'

She nodded.

'I'm not proud of it. She can never know.'

'She won't.'

'What are you going to do?'

'I'm going back to my flat my own place.'

He looked relieved.

'I know we can't be together here.' She looked around. There weren't many feminine touches in the room no women's novels on the nightstand, no perfume bottles on the dresser. But it was still Helena's room. There was a single photograph of the two of them in a big silver frame on the chest of drawers. It must have been their wedding. She couldn't look at it. Earlier, in the bathroom, she had stared at herself in the mirror, wondering what might be in the cabinet behind it, on the shelves. Helena's things. Last night she hadn't really been aware of where she was. This morning it wasn't so easy not to be.

'No.'

'I expect it will be good for me to have my own space.' But Susannah didn't believe it, even as she said the words. She didn't want to be anywhere except with him, wherever it was ...

He nodded.

'I can't stay here.'

He didn't say anything. And it wasn't a question.

Susannah had promised to meet Elizabeth for lunch. Her god-daughter didn't often ask for an audience, but she'd called just before Susannah had gone to France (apparently unaware of the argument at that time) and asked if she could see her. Susannah wished it was any other day but today. She was pretty sure she wasn't thinking entirely straight. There were a million things to sort out. First, she needed somewhere to live. Thank God she hadn't sold her flat when she moved in with Douglas. She'd rented it out on occasions over the years informally, to friends of friends but it was currently empty. She shuddered at the thought that she could have made herself homeless by leaving Doug.

She really hadn't thought it through at all. Of course she couldn't stay with Rob or Amelia either. Not while this horrible fight hung over them. She hadn't called her yesterday, and for all she knew, Amelia might still be furious. Going home to her parents was entirely out of the question, and she wasn't at all sure she was ready to call Alex and Chloe and beg for their sofabed and their silence. Things were pretty loved up and nesty around there, she gathered from Alastair, and she didn't know if she could face that. Her old flat was the only option she had, for now. She was trying to make herself think a day at a time.

It was a long time since Susannah had lived alone. She'd gone from her childhood home via university and law school to the London flats, shared with Amelia, that were always full of people. Then to her married home the place she and Sean had bought together. He'd left when the marriage ended, and that was the last time she'd lived as a singleton. That didn't entirely count Alex had camped out for months at a time, and she'd spent countless nights at Amelia's, and, after Alastair and Kathryn had married, at their house. She had a sketchy memory of that house, and scarcely any recollection of being there by herself. It had gone straight on the market when they divorced, but it had taken ages to sell. She'd completed on the purchase of her flat a few weeks before she'd met Douglas, and she'd put all her plans on hold when he'd asked her to move into the house in Islington. They'd never changed things formally. She'd never asked, and he'd certainly never suggested it. He'd continued to pay the mortgage. She'd taken on some of the utilities and paid for most of the food. And that had worked, although it seemed pretty stupid and careless now. She was in her forties, the owner of a starter flat that had suited the life she thought she was embarking on nearly a decade ago. She couldn't even begin to think, properly, about whether the flat might suit the future that now beckoned to her a future with Rob. This was temporary.

The flat was somewhere to be with Rob where no one else could find them. They'd played house in France. Here they could do it for real. It was small but spotless. She'd seen bigger places, but they'd been grubby and tired, with stained upholstery and scuffed walls. She had wanted something new to go with her new life. It was a one-bedroom on the third floor of a mansion block. It had recently been renovated by the owner, and everything was clean and fresh. There was a living/dining room with a small Juliet balcony between two sets of floor-to-ceiling windows, and a tiny kitchen with simple white units and black stone worktops. The bedroom had another huge window, and the bathroom had black and white marble tiles. Everything was neutral and plain, from the whitewashed walls to the sandy sisal carpets throughout. It was simply furnished Susannah hadn't had the time or inclination to do much with the interior. She'd been excited to move into Douglas's house back then, back when she thought he'd want her to put her stamp on it. There were just a few simple pieces a big sofa with a cream twill cover, a cast-iron bed. White cotton curtains hung at the windows and, from some, you could see the tops of trees.

It was a warm, sunny day, now, as Susannah contemplated her future. She daydreamed, conjuring up images of herself drinking coffee on the sofa, reading the Sunday papers, curled up with her feet in Rob's lap.

She sent an email to Douglas, letting him know she'd like to call by and pick up the rest of her stuff. He replied tersely, saying he'd be gone all day and suggesting she collect her things that evening. He asked her to leave the key on the table before she left. His hurt and anger were written large in each brief line.

She was glad she wouldn't have to face him.

Walking into the restaurant, she barely recognized Elizabeth Amelia was right, she looked scarily grown-up. She'd chosen the restaurant Livebait, in Covent Garden, which was where Susannah had taken her when she was little, after a ballet or a show and had booked the table.

She was relieved when Libby stood up and gave her a warm hug. She didn't know what Amelia might have said to her. 'How are you, sweetheart? How are things?'

'Comme ci, comme ca,' the girl responded.

The waitress came up to offer drinks Susannah ordered a glass of white wine, and Elizabeth a Diet Coke. They busied themselves with the menus, choosing what to eat.

Once they'd ordered, Susannah sat forward, resting her face on her two clasped hands. 'How's things? What's going on? Talk to me ...'

'Well ... in some ways, things are great. Dad's home, and that's amazing. He's so happy and Mum, too. They're like a pair of kids.'

This from a kid, thought Susannah.

'Kissing in the kitchen, that kind of stuff. Gross. But good gross.'

Susannah couldn't help laughing.

'But I think I'm mad at you.'

'You are?'

'You're in some huge fight with Mum, aren't you?'

'What has she said to you?'

'Not much. But I know. I heard her talking to Dad about it.'

'And what were they saying?'

'Mum was crying. She said you'd been screaming at each other. In the hospital, was it?'

Susannah didn't answer.

'How could you? I mean, Susannah come on. In the hospital.' She sounded very adult.

Susannah felt suitably admonished. There was no vestige of the righteous anger she'd felt at the time. How could there be? Amelia had been right.

'What's it all about?'

'I'm not sure you'd understand, Libs. It's all a bit complicated.'

'Well, could you uncomplicate it, please? And go back to being friends. Mum needs you, Suze. I know she's got Dad again, and everything. Gran. Us. But you're her best friend. Nothing is really right with her when things aren't right with you two. You're like Tweedledum and Tweedledee.'

'Thanks for that.' Susannah grimaced.

But Elizabeth was serious. 'She misses you.'

'Has she said so?'

'She doesn't need to. I know.'

'Look, Lib. I love your mum. You know that. She loves me, too. We've never, in all our lives, had a fight so bad that I doubt that and we've had some fights, believe me. We disagree about ... about something, right now ... that's all.'

'She said, to Dad, that you were being naive and foolish.'

'She did, did she?'

Elizabeth nodded solemnly. 'And that it was all going to end in tears. That she was frightened for you, Suze.'

Under the shower, later, after Susannah had gone, Rob laid his head against the cool tile and felt panic rise in him. When she was here, when she was in his arms, she was all he wanted, all he was capable of thinking about. Now, without her here, Helena's trusting, smiling face was all he could see when he closed his eyes. He felt sick. What had he done? What did he still have to do?

He was drying himself off when the phone rang, so lost in his thoughts that its shrill ring jolted him. He picked it up on the third ring, somehow assuming it was Susannah, but it was Helena's voice he heard, distant and fuzzy.

'Rob?'

'Helena?'

'How are you?' He was instantly acutely aware that he was leaning against an unmade bed where only hours ago he'd been lying in sex-tangled sheets with another woman.

'Great, great.' He concentrated on keeping his voice normal. 'You?'

'I'm okay. Fine. Bit knackered. I just missed you, Rob. I wanted to hear your voice. Talk to me, will you?'

He had nothing to say to her: guilt had tied his tongue. He had never felt so little like himself. He took a deep breath and forced himself into small talk. He knew which questions to ask, when he dug deep. The weather, the camp, the kit, operations and exercises ...

They talked easily enough for a few minutes. There'd been a lot of rocket attacks on the compound in the last few days, Helena said nothing serious, no injuries yet. But they were exhausting, he remembered. They kept you on edge, and made a mess. They made you want to come home.

Eventually she asked, 'Are you sure you're okay? You sound a bit weird.'

'Do I?'

'Yes, you do. Distracted. Are you watching the telly?'

'Course not.'

'What, then? Is everything alright?'

No, no no. Nothing is alright. 'Nothing's wrong. Everything's fine. Honestly. I'm a bit tired, too, that's all.'

'Rocket attacks on the King's Road?' She sounded briefly sarcastic. 'Sorry that's mean. Have you been out getting pissed with your old mates again?'

He'd forgotten he'd told her that a couple of times to explain evening absences from home. He made a sound like a yes.

'Poor you.' She thought he was hungover. 'Hair of the dog. That's what you need. Or a huge fry-up.'

'Probably.'

'How's your dad?'

'I'm going to go and see him this weekend. I'll send you an email.'

'Give him my love, will you? And your mum.'

'Course. Is your mum okay?'

'You know Mum. Same as always. She asked after you, when I talked to her.'

He'd called his mother-in-law every week, when Helena first went away. But he hadn't spoken to her in almost a month now. How could he call her? He heard the question in Helena's voice, but he ignored it.

'I miss you, Rob.'

'I miss you, too.'