Chapter 1

I had always thought that she was selfish for doing what she did. I knew that was harsh but I felt if she had done things differently, then everything could have been very different. I often wondered, if she had known the outcome, the way that it would all play out, would she still have made the same decision? It was on my mind a lot at the time, the questions spinning around and around inside my head, especially when I was left alone with my idle thoughts. I suppose with everything going on, it was only natural. There was just no escaping it, though, no matter how much I tried.

The Tube jerked to a stop and the doors slid apart. No one was getting off, yet more people managed to squash on. It never ceased to amaze me how, just when you thought it was impossibly packed, there was always room for one more person. The crowd moved back to make way for the new people, causing the crotch of the man standing in front of me to move even closer towards my face. The rhythmic motion of the carriages snaking along through the tunnels made me feel sleepy. I closed my eyes and listened to the voice broadcast the stops as I did every morning. Finally it was Green Park and I stood up, feeling light-headed as I did. The man sitting beside me had his paperback folded back on itself and was smiling to himself as he read. A grubby bookmark with a furry monkey’s head rested on his knees. It was at odds with his pinstripe suit and leather briefcase – like he had robbed it from his child in a hurry. I grabbed onto the pole to steady myself. Disgustingly, it was still sticky with sweat from the last person. I squeezed through the small gaps between bodies until I got to the doors. Some people hopped off to let me out before getting back on again.

I stepped onto the platform and made my way to the escalator. A wall of warm air hit me full force in the face as I walked and I thought I might be sick. Beads of sweat broke out all across my forehead and I could feel my mouth beginning to water. No way, not here. I ascended on the escalator from deep down in the bowels of the city, gliding past posters advertising films, books and shampoos that claimed to reduce split ends by 52%.

When I finally emerged into the fresh morning air, I breathed it deep into my lungs and felt better instantly as my body started to cool down again. The low sunlight was glinting off the shop windows on the street and burning a golden trail on the footpath in front of me. The gallery was only a five-minute walk from the Tube station. The London traffic inched forward on the road beside me, the roofs of the black cabs sticking out amongst the mêlée of cars like hard-shelled beetles. I knew some people hated this city – they hated its relentless pace, how it sucked you in and then when it was finished with you, after you’d given it your all, when you were broken, when you were spent, it just chewed you up and spat you back out again – but I loved everything about it. I felt alive here – the endless possibilities of things to do, the centuries of history fronting every pavement. The streets were always full – you never felt alone here.

Soon I was at the gallery. I pushed the door open. Nat was already in.

“Morning.”

“Hi, darling,” she replied.

I walked over and lifted the strap of my yellow satchel over my head before putting it onto the white contemporary Formica desk. Our reception desk was the only piece of furniture in the gallery, which was all stark white walls, with black-and-white photos inside black frames, and honey-oak floors.

“Want a coffee – I’ve just boiled the kettle?” Nat asked.

“Nah – better not.”

I turned on the computer and waited for it to boot itself up while she went into the kitchen and came back out a minute later with a mug of instant coffee clasped between her hands. I had brought the mug back for her from Majorca a few years back. It was one of those tacky ones with the caption Someone I Know Went to Majorca and All They Brought Me Back Was This Mug.

Nat and I practically ran the Jensen Photography Gallery ourselves. We displayed the work of several high-profile photographers – they paid us a small rent for the space and a commission for any work we sold. The owner, a lady called Tabitha Jensen, spent most of her time living la dolce vita in her villa in Tuscany. She only came to check up on us a handful of times a year. We emailed her a weekly report with sales figures and a summary of what was happening in the gallery and she was happy with that.

“What’s wrong?” Nat said as she combed her fingers through her thick auburn hair before tying it up loosely with a bobbin so that the front of it stuck up bumpily like waves on a choppy sea.

“Nothing.”

“C’mon, I know you too well.”

“It’s Ben,” I sighed. “He’s like a dog with a bone.”

“Is he still harping on at you about going back to Ireland?”

She said ‘Ireland’ in the way that all English people said it. I have always liked the way their accent made it sound – like it was a place that you might actually want to go to.

She perched herself on the end of the desk with her two hands wrapped around her chipped mug.

“Uh-huh. He just won’t let it go.” It had been eight years since I was home last – I hadn’t been back since my younger brother Patrick’s wedding. And I wouldn’t have even gone to that except that I might as well have severed whatever thin ties with my family that were left if I hadn’t. I had got a flight to Dublin that morning and flew straight back home to London first thing the following morning, less than twenty-four hours later.

“He’s never even met them, has he?”

“Nope.”

“Well, maybe now would be a good time – you can’t stay away forever.”

“You sound just like Ben . . .”

“Well, he just wants to meet them – find out more about where you come from –”

“I’ve told him all he needs to know – why does he need to meet them?”

“Come on, Kate – stop being unreasonable.”

“He knows what happened – I’m not keeping anything a secret from him.”

“He’s not asking for that much – he just wants to meet your family!”

“He reckons I have ‘unresolved issues’.” I sighed wearily at the phrase Ben was so fond of quoting at me.

“Well, you do!” She laughed, showing her teeth. She had good teeth, straight for the main part and just slightly overlapping on the bottom. Most people would probably get them straightened but I thought they suited her better like that.

I started to laugh then too.

Nat had known me a long time, even longer than Ben had. We’d met when I first moved to London at seventeen years of age. I had finished my Leaving Cert and then the very next day I packed my rucksack and took the boat to Holyhead. I would have gone sooner but Dad wouldn’t let me leave school without having my Leaving Cert. As soon as the ferry had pulled out from Dun Laoghaire Harbour, I’d felt nothing but relief. Not even a twinge of sadness or regret. From Holyhead I took a very long and slow bus down to London because I couldn’t afford the train fare. We travelled through Welsh tunnels carved out of rock, chocolate-box villages and acres and acres of tumbledown country estates.

For the first few nights after arriving in London, I had stayed in a hostel full of American backpackers and students who were all inter-railing around Europe. They would be comatose in the bunk beds every morning after only getting into them only a few hours previously, while I got up early to look for a job. I would try and make myself look somewhat presentable, peering in the hostel’s dimly lit, six-inch-square bathroom mirror, before heading out onto the streets to start my hunt. I had a very limited amount of money to tide me over so I needed to get work quickly before the cash I had saved from my part-time job in the local supermarket at home ran out. I didn’t have a clue about what kind of job I wanted to do – I was just so glad to be away from home that I would have taken anything. I dropped into a few of the large department stores on spec but they weren’t currently hiring. So after a few days of not getting anywhere, I decided my best bet would be to register with a recruitment agency.

As I was walking down the street to the address I’d been given, I walked past a gallery with a beautiful taupe-and-green striped awning outside. I noticed a handwritten sign in the bay window, which read Now Hiring. Deciding that I had nothing to lose, I pushed back the door. It had one of those old-fashioned bells that gave a ‘trrrrrrring’ when the door was opened.

A tall, thin girl stood up from behind the counter. She looked to be about the same age as myself. She had the kind of build that women described as ‘striking’ often have. Her height was further emphasised by her hair, which was backcombed several inches off the top of her head. She was wearing a black scoop-necked bodysuit tucked into a tight stonewashed denim skirt, which laced like a corset up the back. Her make-up was dramatic, with heavy kohl accentuating her cool blue eyes with their vivid flecks of green. My eyes travelled down her body and landed on a pair of scuffed Doc Martens. Her style was way beyond anything I had ever seen at home – suddenly I felt self-conscious in my baggy jeans and frumpy sweatshirt. My hair didn’t have a style – it was just dead straight and hung down at both sides of my face like a pair of curtains framing a stage. I had only ever seen people dressed like her on TV. If I had worn those clothes in our village, let alone the hair, I would have been the talk of the town. I had felt intimidated by her. I wanted to turn around and run back out the door again.

She looked at me expectantly, waiting for me to speak.

“I’m here about the job?” I said timidly.

“You Irish?” Her accent was pure London. I had only been there for a few days at that stage but already my ear was starting to distinguish the different accents. She looked at me quizzically with her head tilted to the side as she tried to assess me.

“Yeah.”

“The owner’s not here at the minute – hang on and I’ll give her a call . . .”

“Okay.” I stood there, idly glancing around the gallery while I listened to her talk on the phone.

“Yeah, yeah, yeah, okay. Got it. Byyyye.” She hung up the phone and turned back to me. “She says it’s fine with her, once I’m happy with you. The name’s Nat – what’s yours?”

“Kate,” I said.

“Well, Kate, looks like you’ve got yourself a job.”

“What? Don’t you want me to do an interview or something?” I had only been enquiring and it felt like the job had just been thrust upon me. And even though I was desperate for work, I wasn’t sure I wanted to work with her. I didn’t even know what kind of work I would be doing.

“Nah, no need!” She waved her hand.

“Okay, well . . . I suppose I should say thank you.”

“Do you smoke?”

“No,” I said, feeling instantly like a Goody Two-Shoes. “I gave up a few months back – because I couldn’t afford them,” I added so she knew I wasn’t completely square.

“No worries – here, can you hold the fort while I run round to the shop and get some fags?”

“Em . . . okay,” I said, looking around at the high gallery walls, wondering what I had let myself in for.

“Listen, Kate, there’s no need to look so scared – I’m not going to bite you, love.” Then her face broke into a big grin and I started to relax.

I knew then that we were going to get along just fine together.

It was such an eye-opener for an Irish girl from Ballyrobin coming to London. It was so depressing at home – both in my house and in the country in general. All I seem to remember when I think back on those years is grey. Grey weather. Grey classrooms. Grey people. There was a whole generation of people who left Ireland for London in the eighties and I was a decade late. Just as I was leaving, the economy was starting to pick up. People were buying new cars and they weren’t ashamed of it. There were jobs to be had now and for the first time in decades expats were starting to return home to work. But I went in the opposite direction. My dad couldn’t understand why I wanted to emigrate at a time when things were finally starting to go Ireland’s way. In the eighties he had spent a lot of time worrying if his kids would have to leave the country like almost all young people had to at that time. So when it looked like things were on the up, he was relieved. For the first time since the eighties there were jobs to be had and not just in Dublin. But it wasn’t about the work – it was never about the work. I know Ireland is a different place now of course – I can see it’s changed whenever I meet other Irish people or watch the news. But London was like the place that I belonged in as soon as I arrived. Within days of coming over here, I had felt more at home than I had in my seventeen years in Ireland. The anonymity was a revelation. People wore what they wanted to wear. People didn’t whisper wherever you walked – they didn’t talk in scandalised tones because the Gardaí had brought you home last night because they caught you necking back some snakebite up in the playground.

Nat turned out to be the best friend that I could have asked for. When she heard I was staying in a hostel to save money, she invited me to sleep on her mum’s sofa until I found somewhere to live. She introduced me to all her friends so they quickly became my circle too. After a week in her mum’s house, I found a poky two-roomed flat in Clapham. Although there was only one bedroom, Nat decided to move in with me. We shared a room with two single beds and not much space for anything else. The paint was peeling off the walls and there were black mildew spots in the corners of the ceiling. The seventies’ furniture looked as though it was taken from the landlord’s family home and he was just looking for somewhere to get rid of it. There was too much of it to be functional. A huge sideboard was squashed into the hallway so that you had to turn sideways to walk past it and, even though it was only a one-bedroomed flat, the long rectangular table in the kitchen could sit eight people around it comfortably.

Yes, the flat was tiny, but we had so much fun there. I could go out when I wanted to and come home at whatever hour I chose. There was no one banging on my door calling me for Mass on a Sunday morning. We would go home from work in the gallery and then we would usually head straight out to a party or a club or have friends over to ours. We were out almost every night of the week. For the first time in my life I had freedom. I didn’t have the weight of home dragging me down. Leaving was without doubt the best decision I ever made.

London was where I belonged now.

Chapter 2

At six o’clock we turned out the lights in the gallery to head home. We said bye to one another and Nat put her bag into the basket on the front of her bike and cycled off while I walked in the other direction to the Tube. It was a warm summer’s evening and people spilled out of the pubs and onto the streets, keen to make the most of the evening sun. I weaved my way around where they stood on the path, beer bottles in one hand and taking long drags on cigarettes with the other. Their laughter carried on the summer air. Joggers overtook me on the pavement before cutting into the park.

I arrived in the door to the smell of curry. Even though I had bought the ingredients for it myself the day before, now the smell of the coconut milk just made me want to hurl. I stopped at the door into the kitchen, where Ben’s broad back was towards me as he stood in front of the cooker. He was angling the chopping board and tossing green peppers into the frying pan. Our kitchen was so poky: a few small grey-painted presses, a sink, washing machine, cooker, fridge and a small table and chairs was it. We had a few pots of herbs growing on the windowsill – they were Ben’s babies, not mine.

“Euuuggggh!”

He turned around and smiled at me from where he was stirring the pan.

“Don’t tell me – the smell is making you sick?”

I pinched my nose and nodded my head. He left the pan and came over and wrapped me in a hug. This was without doubt my favourite part of the day – when I would come in wrecked from work and Ben would put his strong arms around me and all my worries and stresses would just fade away.

Ben was a primary school teacher so he was always the first one home. I was spoiled rotten because he usually had dinner ready and waiting for me when I got in every evening. He loved his job. I knew most of the children in his class by name myself, just from listening to him talking about them.

“How’s Baby Pip doing?” he asked, nuzzling at my neck.

“I think I started to feel kicks today – it’s so faint though, it’s hard to know.”

We called her Pip because when I had first found out that I was pregnant the book said that at five weeks she was the size of a pip, and somehow it had stuck even though we both thought that it was a bit cheesy.

He placed his hand on my tummy. “I can’t feel anything.”

“Well, duh – the movements are only tiny at this stage plus she –”

“Or he,” Ben interjected.

“Or he – isn’t moving at the moment. It’s a girl anyway.”

“How do you know?” He started to laugh.

“I just do.”

“Please can we find out the sex at our next scan?”

“No! I told you already, I don’t want to find out – but I know I’m right.”

He held me at arm’s length and stared at my tummy.

“You’re getting a bump.”

“Yeah, I know – I haven’t got long left in these trousers. I had to open the top button this afternoon when I was sitting down behind the desk.”

“Well, I’d say that looked good! Although you could pretend it’s some new form of artistic expression. So did you think any more about going home for a weekend?”

“Not now, Ben!” I pulled away from him. “I’m exhausted. I think I’m going to go and have a soak in the bath.”

Later that evening, as I lay in bed reading on my own, I could hear Ben laughing away on his own at the TV in the living room. The sounds were muffled as they travelled through the walls to our bedroom. We lived in part of what was all originally one house but in the eighties the owners had decided to convert their upstairs bedrooms into an apartment and rent it out. It was a red-bricked terraced Victorian house. We had two bedrooms, a galley-kitchen, a living room and a small bathroom. The rent was typical of London – big money, small place. We were saving up to buy our own place but then I had found out that I was pregnant so we decided to put our plans on hold for a while until after Baby Pip arrived.

There must have been something particularly funny on the TV because Ben was howling with laughter.

Ben was definitely the smiley one in our relationship. He was always in good form – he had what you might describe as a ‘sunny disposition’. It wasn’t that I was a grumpy person but I just wasn’t constantly in good form like he was – nothing ever seemed to get him down or to send him into a rage like me. Everyone loved him as soon as they met him – he was just one of those people. And he always knew how to pull me out of a mood. I was fascinated whenever we were out together, watching how everyone automatically migrated towards him. I would hover somewhere on the periphery, staring, taking it all in. Ben saw the good in everyone whereas I was a lot more cynical. I tried not to be but I couldn’t help it. I think that was why he wouldn’t let the whole trip to Ireland go – he wanted to make everyone happy just like him and he thought that a trip home would do that for me too. It was like the baby had put a deadline on it – he wanted it resolved before Pip came along. But it was never going to be that simple: twenty years of anger and hurt can’t be just reset with a quick visit home. I knew he meant well though.

I put my book down and placed my two hands flat on my bare, swollen stomach. I could definitely feel Pip moving. I knew I wasn’t just imagining it. It was such a surreal feeling to think that there was actually a baby in there, growing away, doing its thing, doing everything that it needed to do and knowing when to do it. The pregnancy was going well – except for the nausea, which still wasn’t showing any signs of abating even though I was nearly at the halfway mark. I had been assured by all in the know that once I entered the second trimester the morning sickness would go and I’d get a new burst of energy but they were all liars because I still felt like shit.

The whole thing was making me think a lot though. I wasn’t prepared for that side of it – it had brought a lot of old memories back to the surface. And Ben wasn’t helping by constantly banging on about it. I had known this was what would happen and that was why it had taken me a while to come round to the idea of having a baby with him. Ben had been broody for a long time – he was the one who would stop a mother on the footpath to coo over her infant whereas I just saw sticky hands and a runny nose. While I had always wanted children, it was more a case of ‘one day’ so it came as a bit of a shock when I found out that I was pregnant. But when I had seen the two pink lines on the test stick, I’d got really excited – the time was right, Ben loved me and I loved him.

Ben came up to bed soon after and spooned me from behind. He pushed up my pyjama top to put his two hands on the skin of my stomach and Baby Pip started up again just like she knew that her daddy was there. I turned over to face him and smiled.

“She knows you’re here.”

“Really?”

“Yeah, she’s started kicking again.”

“When will I be able to feel them?”

“Not for a few more weeks according to the books.”

He propped his head up on his elbow. “So when are we going to Ireland?”

“Will you just leave it out, Ben?” I said testily.

“Come on, Kate! When are you going to tell your dad?”

“Soon.”

“You’re nearly five months pregnant – your family don’t even know. You need to tell them – I’ve never even met them for Christ’s sake!”

“I will tell them.”

“When?”

“I’ll ring Dad.”

“You can’t keep on carrying this baggage with you. It’s not good for you or the baby.”

“Will you stop going on about it?”

“You can’t keep running away from it.”

“I’m not running away from anything!”

“Oh Kate – you’re infuriating!”

“Please, can we leave it for tonight? I feel like crap – I’m exhausted.”

“All right, all right, but you need to face up to your demons sooner or later.” He sighed.

Blah, blah, blah. I turned away so my back was towards him and he did the same on the other side.

Chapter 3

Ben and I had met at the zoo of all places. I’d had a day off so I’d gone for a stroll around Regent’s Park. When I got there I decided to go into the zoo because it had been a while since I’d been in. I’d been watching the meerkats and I was just turning around to go on to the next enclosure when I saw a small boy standing in the middle of the path on his own, crying. He was wearing a navy raincoat, jeans tucked inside wellington boots and he had a small backpack on his back. I guessed he was probably about five or six. He was obviously lost. I looked around to see if his parents were anywhere nearby but there was no-one near us that looked like they had lost a child.

I can still remember getting lost in a department store at Christmas time when I was small. I had been playing with my brothers Patrick and Seán, hiding under rails of clothes, but when I came out again my family had all gone. Even though we were only separated for a few minutes, I’ll never forget that fear. It had felt like hours. It was as though my world had ended and I was going to be the resident orphan of Dunnes Stores. Of course I was too young to realise that a lost child is not the same as a lost glove and that Mam and Dad were in an equally right state looking for me too.

I bent down to the boy and asked him his name. Through snotty tears he told me he was called James. I reached down and held his hand and he had clung on tight. We walked over to a nearby security guard but no-one had reported a missing child. At that stage they probably hadn’t even realised he was missing. The guard escorted us to the coffee shop. While he put a call out over the radio to the other guards, I rooted in my purse for change and bought James a gingerbread man with eyes and a smile made from icing and three Smarties down the front for buttons. He wiped his nose on his sleeve and quickly began to open the cellophane wrapper on the gingerbread man.

Suddenly a man came blustering through the door.

“Oh thank God!” He rushed over and bent down to the little boy. “Where did you go to?”

“I just wanted to see the meerkats’ house.”

“I told you already, you can’t keep wandering off like that, James,” he scolded him gently. He turned to me then. “Thank you, thank you, so much!”

“Don’t mention it. I was at the meerkats and I turned around and just saw him there on his own, crying.”

I had to admit that James’ dad was very good-looking. He was tall and muscular and, judging by the tan on his face and hands, I guessed that he loved the outdoors. He was dressed casually in a pair of Converse trainers, jeans and hoody, with a backpack slung over his back.

I supposed he must have got an awful fright.

“We were doing so well,” he said. “We’d managed to round up the twenty-four of them every time but he must have slipped away between the meerkats and the next enclosure. It was only when we did our head count just there that we realised that we’d lost him.”

“You have twenty-four children?” I said, shocked.

“Not me!” he grinned. “We’re on a school tour – the other teacher is waiting with the rest of the class.”

“Oh, I see . . . of course.” I laughed, feeling a bit stupid then. “Well, it must be hard keeping track of that many.”

“You can’t take your eyes off them for a second! We’re lucky you were right there.”

“Don’t mention it.”

James was happily munching on his gingerbread man – he had devoured both his legs and his right arm. His distress of the last few minutes seemed to be forgotten.

The man and I looked at each other for a fraction too long.

“Well . . . I’d better go,” I said quickly.

“What’s your name?” he asked me then.

“It’s Kate.”

“Kate – I’m Ben.” He stuck his hand out to shake mine. “It’s nice to meet you.”

His handshake was strong around mine. I liked that in a man – there was nothing worse than a watery handshake. By this stage the gingerbread man was decapitated.

“Okay, well, thanks again, Kate.”

I watched him walk off with James – the two of them threw their heads back then and started laughing at something. There was definitely something attractive about a man who was good with kids, I thought.

I decided to grab a take-away coffee while I was there and continue on my way around the zoo. I walked along the path admiring the elegance of the giraffes as they stretched their long necks to reach up to the higher branches. I watched them as they munched on mouthfuls of leaves. Their fawn-coloured markings were like a beautiful mosaic covering their skin. It was just starting to drizzle and as I was taking my umbrella out of my bag I heard a little voice behind me interrupting my thoughts.

“Hi, Kate.”

I turned around to find James standing there, looking up at me. He had his hood pulled up over his head. He was beyond cute with his chubby cheeks.

“Hiya, James.” I looked over and saw Ben, a woman and the rest of the class a short distance away.

“Did you know that giraffes and humans have the same number of bones in their neck?”

“No, I didn’t know that,” I said, laughing.

“Do you know how many bones –”

Ben rushed up beside him then. “James, I told you, you can’t keep on running off on us like that.” He sounded exasperated. “Hi again, Kate.”

“He’s a real handful.”

“You don’t know the half of it!”

“Mr Chamberlain likes you!” James blurted out.

“Sorry?” I wondered if I had heard him right.

“James!” Ben said, looking mortified.

“You do! You said she was a very nice lady!” he protested, his eyes wide with innocence.

“Yeah, but . . .”

“And pretty – you said she was very pretty too.” He went on.

Ben looked at him in horror. Redness crept up along his face.

I have to say I felt sorry for him. “Hey, don’t worry – you know what kids are like.” I laughed nervously. I wanted the ground to swallow me whole. Or James preferably. Either one of us would be fine.

We both stood there awkwardly for a few moments. James was pulling out of Ben’s hand. I could see the other teacher and the rest of the class looking over, wondering what was going on.

“Look, I’d better –”

“God, Kate, this whole thing is well . . . so embarrassing . . . I don’t usually do this, believe me . . . but, well . . . would you like to go for dinner with me?”

James was staring up at me expectantly, waiting for my answer.

“Sure, I’d like that.”

Ben pulled out a sheet of paper from his rucksack and scribbled down my number. And that was it. He called me the next day and we arranged to go for dinner and we’ve been together ever since, all thanks to little James, who probably is not so little any more.

Chapter 4

As soon as I woke the next morning, I reached up onto my locker and felt blindly until my hand came upon my packet of crackers. I had kept a packet on the top of my locker for the last few months now. Eating one before I got out of bed usually helped to settle my stomach and keep the nausea at bay for a little while. When I opened my eyes, I saw that Ben was sitting on the edge of the bed, pulling off his trainers. He stood up again and pulled his sweaty T-shirt off over his head and tossed it onto the floor. Being the health freak he is, he went out for a run most mornings before school while I clung on to my duvet for dear life and put my alarm on snooze for another half an hour.

“Morning. Did you sleep okay?”

“Well, no, thanks to you!”

“Look, I’m sorry about last night.” He stood in front of me, his muscular body toned and tanned. “I just want you to be happy.” He sat down again on the bed beside me.

“I am happy. And I’d be even happier if you left me alone about going back home.”

“C’mere.” He linked his fingers with mine. His naked body was still damp with sweat. He pulled me closer and started to kiss me.

I was still as attracted to him as ever.

“We can’t – I’m going to be late,” I said, pulling back.

“Nat will cover for you for five minutes.” He was kissing my neck, tracing his warm lips against my skin. He knew I could never say no to him.

“Five minutes! Is that all I’m getting?” I put my arms around his neck and pulled his face towards mine.

“Sorry I’m late,” I apologised to Nat who was hunched over the iMac computer, her eyes fixed on the screen. She had a mug of coffee clasped between her hands.

“No worries – you feeling okay?” She turned around to me.

“Yeah, I’m good.” I tried to keep the smile off my face but Nat saw it.

“What’s got into you?”

“Nothing.”

“Okay, weirdo – the kettle’s boiled anyway. Sam Wolfson rang to say he’ll be a little late – there’s a problem with his train.”

Sam Wolfson was a new photographer who was interested in displaying some of his work with us. He was coming in to talk us through his portfolio and we were going to show him around the gallery. An hour later and a blustering Sam came rushing through the doors, apologising for being late and bemoaning line closures. I was taken aback by his age – he looked no more than twenty. I brought him up to the mezzanine to show him the space that we had earmarked for him before bringing him back downstairs where he talked us through his work. His pictures were stark. Urban decay was his thing. I thumbed through his photographs, which mainly featured buildings that had lost their former glory. There were historical houses with cracked plaster walls, neglected factories with crumbling concrete and broken-glass-littered floors, decaying warehouses with peeling steel girders and acres of empty racking. They weren’t pretty but they were real and we had seen a lot more demand for this kind of work lately. Although he was young, it was evident that he was very talented and we knew he would be a good fit with the gallery. We went through the figures with him and we were just agreeing the terms when the bell tinkled and a delivery man came through the door with a huge bouquet of blush-coloured roses. There must have been at least fifty of them. I stood up to take them from him. Ben is so sweet, I thought. A smile crept onto my face again as I thought about that morning.

“Nat Anderson?” the man asked, looking from me to her.

“For me?” Nat was shocked. “Thank you!” She beamed as she got up off her stool and took the flowers from him.

I sat back down again, feeling embarrassed for being so presumptuous.

“Wow, Nat, they’re gorgeous!” I said.

Sam nodded in agreement. “Someone likes you!”

Nat took the card out from its envelope and read it. I peered over her shoulder. There was just one word written on it, followed by three bold exclamation marks: ‘Amazing!!!’

Nat started to blush and quickly put the card back inside the envelope.

“They’re from him then?” I said.

“Yep!”

I could tell that Nat was thrilled. She went into the kitchen to find a vase to put them in.

After we had firmed things up with Sam, we all shook hands and said goodbye to him.

“Things are going well then?” I said.

“Sooo well. Couldn’t be any better!” she sang. “I know – why don’t we go for something to eat – the four of us – so you and Ben can get to know him better?”

“Sure . . .” I cringed inwardly. Ben was going to kill me.

“Have you anything on this Thursday?”

“Mmh . . . no . . . I’ll have to check with Ben though.”

“Great – I’ll arrange it with Will. How about Ransan’s?”

“Yeah . . . why not. The food’s always good there.” Ben was going to kill me doubly now. It was a posh eatery close to Holland Park and pricewise it was way out of our league.

I had arranged to meet Ben in the park for lunch that day. We sat on the navy tartan rug that he had brought and unwrapped the paper from around the sandwiches we had picked up in the deli. Mine was an egg salad, his was chicken with pesto. It was a glorious May day and the sun was warm against my skin. I bided my time before I broke it to him about Thursday.

“What? But you know what I think of him, Kate!”

“I know – I’m sorry. I couldn’t get out of it.”

He groaned. “The whole thing is a mess.”

“I know, I know, but it’s Nat – so even though I’m not happy about the situation, she’s my best friend and I have to support her.”

“Well, I don’t agree with it – he’s married, he has kids for fuck sake! I don’t want to be part of it all.”

Ben never swore.

“I know, it’s terrible, and I don’t know what Nat sees in him – I really don’t know why she feels he is so worth all the hassle – but it’s her choice at the end of the day.”

“It will all end in tears.”

“Probably.”

I lay back on the rug with my head resting on Ben’s lap and closed my eyes for a few minutes. The hum of the bees rang loud in my ears. They sounded like horseracing pundits commentating on a race. The sun was warm on my face – the forecast said it was to hit thirty degrees this week. We never had weather like this back home even though Ireland and the UK weren’t that far apart geographically but I suppose London is more southerly.

I must have dozed because suddenly Ben was shaking me and telling me that it was time to get back to work. I groaned – I never seemed to get enough sleep those days. I could sleep for a week and it still wouldn’t be enough. We folded the rug up and put it back in the basket and then Ben walked me back to the gallery and kissed me goodbye before continuing on to his twenty-two six-year-olds.

Chapter 5

As I got changed for dinner on Thursday evening I nearly had a mini-meltdown when I realised that there was no way that my trousers were going to zip up. I had tried lying back on the bed and sucking in my tummy but they were not going to close. Luckily I had bought maternity trousers the weekend before. I had gone into a hot and stuffy changing room in Oxford Street where I thought that I might faint from the combination of the lack of air-conditioning and my persistent nausea. I had to stand in a queue to wait on a cubicle with two other women ahead of me, all faring the same as we tried to fan ourselves with our hands. The worst part was that there were two men sitting on chairs looking up at us pityingly while they waited on their partners who were trying on clothes.

I took the trousers out from my wardrobe and looked at their corded elasticated panels on the sides. They were dowdy and in a style that I normally wouldn’t go near – high on the waist and flared at the ends. The woman in the shop had assured me that the flares would help to balance out my shape, especially when my bump got bigger, but I wasn’t so sure. Well, we will be seeing a lot more of each other over the coming months, I sighed as I ripped off the tags and sat on the edge of the bed to pull them up. But the feeling of comfort when I put them on was amazing. I should have worn them weeks ago, instead of trying to squeeze into my normal jeans. I put on my black platform boots and a flowy black top with gold beading along the bottom. Looking at my appearance in the mirror I felt frumpy. My roots needed touching up too but I’d have to wait until payday. Highlights were an expensive habit.

“Not too shabby, Kate!” Ben said as he looked me up and down when I came into our living rom. “You look lovely.”

“Yeah – a lovely whale.”

“Come off it, Kate – you’re pregnant. Seriously, you look amazing – in fact, I don’t think you’ve ever looked better.” He came over and put his arms around me. “Do we really have to go to this thing?”

“Yes!” I said firmly. “Look, it’s just dinner and I can make the excuse that I’m tired so we won’t have to stay late.”

“Right,” he sighed. “Do I look okay?”

He was wearing a pink striped shirt under a grey V-necked pullover, jeans and tan leather brogues.

“Gorgeous.”

“I really wish we didn’t have to go there tonight.”

“I know,” I sighed. “But we do, so come on.”

We got off the Tube at Kensington and walked towards Ransan’s. The one thing that could be said for the place was that they knew how to charge. I had been there once before: at a Christmas dinner that Tabitha had organised for all the photographers represented in the gallery. It was favoured by rich executives, who knew that you were always guaranteed a top-notch dish. More importantly for Will, it was also discreet. Its dim lighting and subtle staff meant no-one made any comment if you happened to dine with your mistress for lunch and your wife later that same evening. The seating was laid out in such a way that it always felt like private dining and you knew that no-one at the table beside you was eavesdropping on your conversation. It was not the kind of place that Ben and I could afford to go to usually but I knew the evening was important to Nat.

“Come on,” I said and steered him into the restaurant.

The rosewood-panelled entrance hall led into an interior decorated in warm red tones. The maître d’ greeted us and showed us over to the table. The maroon wallpaper, red-velvet upholstery and subdued lighting created a rich atmosphere. A huge display of wine bottles stacked on their sides took up one entire wall. I knew from reading the wine list the last time we were here that some of the bottles went up to over two thousand pounds in price. There was a good crowd in and the room was filled with lively chatter as we walked through the tables.

“Kate, Ben!” Nat stood up from the table and hugged me. She looked great as usual, wearing grey cigarette-leg pants and a nude silk knee-length tunic over them. She had layers of beads around her neck and she was wearing impossibly high heels, which put her easily over six foot. Her glossy auburn hair was pulled back into a simple bun, showing off her angular face.

Will stood up to greet us. He leant over and kissed me on the cheek. “Kate – it’s great to see you again. You look brilliant – pregnancy suits you!” He was dressed in a blazer and open-necked shirt, revealing some dark chest hair at the top. He had a faint shadow of stubble on his jaw and his hair was carefully styled up with gel. Together they made a striking couple.

Ben and Will shook hands awkwardly. If Ben didn’t like Will, the feeling was mutual. I always got the impression that Ben was just a little too strait-laced for Will. Will was a man’s man, a complete alpha male. He worked long hours in the City and he lived by the motto ‘Work hard, play hard’.

We took our seats opposite them and the waitress passed out menus. She handed the wine list to Will.

“Love the jeans, Kate!” Nat said as she opened her leather-bound menu.

“Shut up, you! Clothing manufacturers must think that pregnant women lose all sense of style as soon as they get pregnant. We’ll see how well you’ll do when it’s your turn.”

“Well, you’ll be waiting!” She laughed that deep throaty laugh of hers. Men loved Nat’s laugh.

We read through our menus.

“It’s so hard to decide what to choose!” Nat moaned. “I’m torn between the venison and the beef.”

“Well, why don’t you go for the venison and I’ll get the beef so then you can try both?” Will suggested.

“You don’t mind?”

“Of course I don’t – anything to keep my lady happy.”

They exchanged a smile.

When we were done, we closed the menus shut again and placed them onto the table in front of us.

“Your hair really suits you like that, Nat,” I said.

“See, I told you!” Will said, turning towards her. “It shows off her beautiful face, doesn’t it?”

I nodded in agreement.

Nat blushed. “I couldn’t decide whether to put it up or down coming out tonight.”

“Well, either way, you always look good.” He pulled her in towards him and kissed her tenderly on the forehead.

Ben and I need not have been there. I tried not to let my shock show at how attentive and affectionate he was being towards her. He was all over her. I had only met him casually a couple of times before so I had never really observed them properly together.

“So now for the all-important bit,” Will said, opening up the wine list. “What are we having, guys?”

“The Châteauneuf-du-Pape is good – remember, we had it the last time we were here, Kate?” Ben said.

“Yeah, it was,” I said. “Pity I can’t drink it tonight though.”

“What about the Barolo – everyone happy with that?” Will asked, not even listening to Ben’s suggestion.

The waitress came back over and placed a basket of bread on our table.

“This one here is squid-ink bread.” She pointed towards a black-coloured one. “This dark-brown one is Guinness bread and this here is Spanish tomato bread. I hope you enjoy them.”

“Looks good,” Nat said.

“Are you ready to order yet or would you like me to leave you to make up your minds for a little bit longer?”

“I think we’re all ready,” Will said, looking around at us.

“Yep, I’m good to go – I’m starved,” Ben said.

Nat and I nodded in agreement. We ordered our food and Will ordered the Barolo.

“Good choice.” The waitress nodded in approval, which seemed to make Will happy.

We sat in silence for a while and I watched Ben as he idly dipped his finger into the wax that had dripped from the candle and let it cool before picking it off again.

Will broke the ice. “So, Kate, you’re almost halfway there now, Nat tells me. What hospital are you going to?”

“St Mary’s.”

He picked up a slice of the squid-ink bread from the basket and pulled it apart. “Very good. That’s quite close to you guys, isn’t it?”

“Yeah, hopefully we’ll have plenty of time though on the big day.”

“I hope you’ve got the fastest route worked out, Ben? Believe me, if that baby arrives in a hurry you’ll be glad you did.”

“It’s on my to-do list – I think every man fantasises about having the excuse of an emergency dash to hospital with his labouring wife to drive like a Formula One driver through the streets.”

“Eh, darling, I hate to ruin your childhood dream but we won’t be having any Formula One antics when I’m in labour, thank you very much!” I said.

We all laughed.

“I hope you’re looking after yourself, Kate, and putting your feet up because it’s the last time you’ll be able to do it for a while. It’s a tough station being pregnant – us men wouldn’t last a week. Isn’t that right, Ben?”

Ben nodded. “Props to the ladies there.” He picked up his glass and took a sip.

We all started to relax a bit and chatted easily until the waitress came back over and set four shot glasses down in front of us.

“Compliments of the chef. Tomato and peach gazpacho.”

We picked up the accompanying spoons and sampled the appetiser.

“Mmmh, this is good!” I said.

“It is, Kate, isn’t it?” Will said. “Very refreshing.”

He was the kind of guy who when he was talking to you his eyes were on you and you only. I had to admit that I could see his charm. He used your name and always appeared interested in what you were saying. It was all ‘Yes, Kate’, ‘Is that right, Kate?’ or ‘Good point, Kate’.

“Well, I’m sure everyone you meet is full of advice, Kate,” he said now, “but the sleep deprivation is torture. Get a night nanny – it’s the only way.”

“I think we should be able to manage,” I said. “I’m sure the sleepless nights are tough but we can take turns.”

“You eager first-timers are all the same!”

“But surely that’s all part of it,” I protested. “You can’t just take the good bits and let someone else do all the hard work for you. Where’s the fun in that?”

He threw his head back and started laughing then. “Well, don’t ring me when you’re walking the floors at three in the morning with a screaming baby in your arms.”

“Don’t worry – I won’t.” I knew my tone was testy but he had annoyed me.

“Right then, who’s having the roast partridge with chanterelles and pear?” The awkward moment was broken by our waitress who was back with the starters.

“That’ll be me.” Ben nodded at the girl, glad of the interruption.

As Nat and I chatted, I could hear Will talking to Ben.

“So how’s school, Ben? What class are you teaching now?”

“Year two.”

“Aaaaarggh, how do you do it, mate – listening to a bunch of screaming six-year-olds all day?”

Although he never dared say it, I knew that Will viewed teaching as a woman’s job and couldn’t understand why a man would choose to do a job working with children.

“It’s not that bad,” Ben said.

“Listen, I have one six-year-old at home and it’s more than enough.” He took another gulp of wine, then clicked his fingers at a passing waitress and pointed to the bottle on the table, which was running low. Everything about Will, all his mannerisms and actions, were fast. “But I suppose the holidays help. Imagine that, Nat,” he turned to elbow her, “imagine having six weeks off in the summer on full pay? It’s some life.” He lifted his glass again.

I reached for Ben’s hand under the table and gave it a squeeze.

Will picked up the wine bottle and filled his glass with what was left. I wasn’t drinking and Ben and Nat still had half-full glasses. I continued my conversation with Nat but from the corner of my eye I saw Will lean in conspiratorially to Ben.

“Listen, mate, enjoy your last few months of freedom while you can. Don’t get me wrong, I love my three boys to death, but sometimes I miss that freedom of being able to do whatever it is you want to do, y’know?” He sounded melancholy as he raised his glass to his lips and gulped back the red wine. “Once kids come along, your life will never be the same again . . .”

I could see Ben biting his tongue. The cheek of him to blatantly talk about his family like that – yet sit here with Nat and not even bat an eyelid.

After our starters were eaten, and having drunk a good bit more wine, Will pushed his chair back from the table and relaxed back on the seat. He slung his right arm around Nat’s shoulders and was running his other hand up and down along her thigh.

“How’s work at the gallery, girls?” he asked.

“Well, we have a new photographer coming on board next week,” I said.

“Yeah, so Nat was saying – Sam Wolfman, isn’t it?”

“Wolfson,” Nat cut in.

“Sorry – Wolfson – I do listen, darling, I swear.” He laughed and Nat smiled indulgently at him.

“We’re very excited,” I said. “His work is very different to what we usually display in the gallery so fingers crossed now it does well.”

“Well, it better or Tabitha will be coming after us!” Nat laughed.

I watched the hand inch a bit higher. Will turned in towards Nat and then was kissing the nape of her neck gently like they were the only ones in the room.

Ben and I ate our mains of Cornish turbot and jowl of pork as quickly as we could without making it obvious that we were rushing and we both claimed to be too full for dessert even though the portions in Ransan’s were minute.

“But you always have dessert, Kate – it’s your favourite part of the meal!” Nat protested. “Well, you have to at least stay for a coffee.”

“Of course we will.” I looked at my watch. It was only ten o’clock. Ben and I had coffee, while Nat and Will both had Tanqueray cocktails.

When we were finished Ben signalled the waitress over and asked for the bill. She came back moments later and handed it to him. I balked when I saw the final total over his shoulder. The wine alone was £118 a pop. We couldn’t afford this.

“I’ll get this, guys,” Will said, taking the bill from Ben’s hand.

Ben pulled it back again and after a brief stalemate said, “No, no, we’ll pay for our share.”

I groaned internally. Will could well afford to foot the bill and I knew Ben was just being proud. We left the money for our half and said goodbye to them. I told Nat that I’d see her in the morning.

“I might be a little late,” she said, winking at me as she turned to smile at Will.

“I can’t believe we just spent the equivalent of over a week’s rent for the pleasure of eating out with that twat!” Ben said on the Tube home. “We’re supposed to be saving money.”

“I know,” I yawned. “I could have had my roots done all year for the price of dinner tonight.” I was exhausted and rested my head on his lap. I had a hard time trying to stay awake. I was rocked by the motion of the carriage. At least it was quiet at that time of the evening. “His poor wife!” I said.

“I wonder if she knows that her husband is having an affair? Or maybe she turns a blind eye to it so long as the money is coming in and she’s living the Chelsea dream?”

“Who knows? But I’m so surprised at Nat. Yes, he’s good-looking and charming but he’s a complete alpha male. I don’t know how you kept so calm when he was dissing your job!”

“Because he’s a fool – it doesn’t matter what he says.”

“Yeah, you’re right. I’m going to try and talk to her again about it tomorrow – see if I can get her to see sense.”

Back at home we fell into bed. Ben wrapped me in his arms from behind and I fell asleep instantly.

Chapter 6

The next day I watched from inside the bay window of the gallery as Will’s Aston Martin pulled up on the path outside. Ben always called it his “midlife-crisis car”. Nat breezed through the door seconds later with a big smile on her face.

“Good night then?” I asked.

“The best!” she said dreamily.

She was still wearing the grey trousers and tunic from the night before. There was a trace of black eyeliner smudged beneath her eyes. Her hair was scraped back into a loose bun, not neat like the one she wore last night. She must have forgotten her hairbrush.

“Last night was good fun, wasn’t it?” she said. “The food was great!”

“Yeah – they always get it right there, but it’s bloody expensive.”

“I know – I hope it was okay for you guys?” She seemed concerned.

I brushed her off. “Don’t worry about it.”

She took off her silk scarf and plonked her bag on the desk in front of her. She went into the kitchen and made herself a black coffee. She came back out, clasping the mug between her hands.

“So what did you think of him?” she said, sitting onto her chair.

“Yeah, he’s charming. He seems to really like you.”

“Well, I’m glad you guys got to know each other a bit better.”

“So where did you stay last night?” I asked. She obviously hadn’t been home.

“Oh, he left his car in town last night and we didn’t want to waste time getting a minicab back to my place so we checked into a suite in Claridge’s.”

I raised my eyebrows.

“Oh my God, Kate, it was the most amazing place I have ever stayed in! I bumped into Cate Blanchett in the corridor this morning. I mean literally bumped into her – I was so embarrassed.”

I vaguely remembered seeing something on TV the day before that Cate was in town to promote her new film.

Will rang Nat a while later and I was subjected to listening to the two of them talk about how amazing the night was. The conversation seemed to be about how good the sex had been. It started to irk me so I stood up and took my laptop upstairs to get a head start on the weekly sales report for Tabitha. Was it the glamorous lifestyle and the money – or did she genuinely like him? It was as if I didn’t know her any more. She wasn’t the same Nat that I knew. She was a good-looking girl with a lot going for her, so why was she ready to waste herself at Will’s beck and call? Yes, he seemed to like her but it could only end in tears – there could never be a happy outcome.

When Nat finally finished the phone call, I heard her come upstairs to me.

“Sorry – was I talking too loud?”

“No, I just thought I’d make a start on the sales figures,” I lied.

I decided to seize the moment and tackle her about Will.

“Look, Nat, tell me if it’s none of my business – but what are you doing? Where is this going?”

“Where is what going?”

“You and Will.”

“Oh . . . well . . .”

“What worries me is that he makes no effort to even hide the fact that he’s married with kids! It’s like he thinks it’s perfectly legit to go around having affairs –”

“Affair,” she corrected.

“Come on, Nat – I doubt you’re the first and you certainly won’t be the last either.”

“Well, cheers, Kate!”

“But what about his wife and children – surely you must feel bad for them?”

“Of course I do – it’s horrible! But it’s complicated. I absolutely hate myself every time I think about them. But he and his wife lead separate lives.”

“Oh come on, Nat – that’s what they all say – don’t be so naïve.”

“No, really they do – separate bedrooms – the lot. I know he’ll stay with her for the sake of their children – he has always been upfront with me about that. But it doesn’t mean that he has to miss out on another chance of finding happiness. Sometimes love just finds us and no matter what your head tells you is right or wrong, your heart will win out at the end of the day.

Nat was a hopeless romantic. It made me want to slap her stupid sometimes.

“But you deserve more than just a piece of a man! You’re getting some other woman’s sloppy seconds!”

“It’s not like that.”

“Oh yeah?”

“Yeah. When we’re together, it’s well . . . amaaazing.” The smile from earlier on crept back onto her face. “Look, Kate, when you love someone you have to make sacrifices sometimes.”

“Well, I’m sorry, but no matter how good the sex is I wouldn’t put up with sharing a man.”

“I know you wouldn’t, Kate. But that’s because you don’t have to – you’ve got Ben. Do you have any idea of how hard it is to meet a man without any form of baggage today?” Her tone was defensive.

“No, I suppose I don’t.” I had met Ben when I was twenty-seven. I never had to endure the carnage that Nat told me was the London dating scene past the age of thirty.

“Well, please don’t lecture me then.” She turned on her heel and walked back down the stairs, then turned around again. “Oh, and Kate?”

“Yeah?”

“It’s not just about the sex!”

Chapter 7

Things were tense between Nat and me over the next few days. Although we were talking to each other, I could tell that she was annoyed with me, but we had an exhibition coming up soon so we both knew we had to leave our differences aside and get on with the organisation for it. We needed to brainstorm for ideas so I suggested that we treat ourselves to cakes in the bakery down the street. We sat down inside the bay window and ordered – well, I did – Nat was trying to be good – she was on a healthy eating buzz although Lord knows she didn’t need to lose any weight.

“Here, give me a bite of that.” She finally gave in to temptation and dug her fork into my sticky toffee pudding. A river of toffee sauce came oozing out. It ran down the side before pooling thickly onto the white plate in front of me. “It doesn’t count when it’s on someone else’s plate.”

“Right,” I said, opening my notepad and flipping it over onto a clean sheet. I wrote the words ‘To Do’ at the top of the page and underlined them twice. I loved lists. There was no better feeling in this world than crossing things off a to-do list. Sometimes I even wrote down tasks that I had already done just so that I could put a line through them. I knew it was silly.

Nat had come up with the exhibition title of Silence. She had a good eye so she always curated our exhibitions while I organised the admin end of things such as the invites and the food and wine. She had always had an interest in photography herself. She was forever clicking away with her SLR whenever we were out somewhere.

“Your photos belong on these walls too, you know,” I would say to her whenever she showed me some of them.

But she would shake her head in disagreement. “Not yet.”

She had been saying this for years. I wasn’t sure what she was waiting for. Maybe confidence that might never come?

I made a note that I needed to order more vinyl to put the names of the artists in the gallery window because we were nearly out of it. I also had to get booklets printed with a small biography for each artist and a price list for their work. I needed to draft up the press release and update the website, plus I needed to find someone to launch the exhibition for us. There was a lot of behind-the-scenes work that went into the exhibitions. The bigger galleries around town would use a PR person to do the majority of that work but we weren’t in that league so it was up to just me. We had only four exhibitions a year but most of our sales for the year took place on these four evenings so they were important for the bottom line. My notebook was littered with scribbled reminders. I had underlined some with thick blue lines so that I wouldn’t forget them – other tasks were linked together by arrows. There was so much to be done and my head was spinning just thinking about it all. I sat back, closed the notepad and let out a heavy sigh.

“Any plans for the weekend?” I asked Nat.

“Well, Will will be with his family for most of it but he’s promised me that we’ll do something on Saturday night,” Nat said through another mouthful of cake.

“I see.” Things had been awkward between us since our argument last week, so I bit my tongue and didn’t say what I really wanted to say – that she was putting up with second best, gratefully snatching whatever crumbs of his time he was able to throw her way. She deserved more. So much more. But, at thirty-three years old, she was a big girl now.

“Are you doing anything?” she asked.

“We’re heading down to Ben’s parents in Surrey. His sister Laura is coming home for the night so we said we’d go down too.” Laura was Ben’s older sister and had followed the family tradition of law and was now a barrister working up in Manchester.

“Nice. Well, I hope you have your Barbour jacket packed.”

“Yeah, and my Hunter wellies too.” I laughed. She always made a comment like this whenever I mentioned Ben’s parents. But, in fairness, although they were lovely people – well, his mum was anyway – they were very posh.

On Saturday morning we set off in Ben’s Volkswagen Golf along the A3 for the Surrey countryside. Ben insisted on having a car even though it spent most of the time parked up on the street below our flat. Because we lived in central London, we took public transport everywhere but Ben liked the freedom of being able to get out of the city whenever the mood took us.

It was a warm summer’s day and the radio was playing softly in the background. We had the windows down to let some air in but not enough to blow us out of it completely.

“So when are we going to Ireland?” he said to me as we drove along.

I groaned. “Soon.” God, he was persistent.

We passed over a railway bridge and, at exactly the same time, a train passed beneath us, our journeys intersecting briefly before we headed off in our respective directions.

“Come on, Kate – the weeks are flying along now.”

“Will you just leave it, please?”

We travelled along the rest of the winding country road in silence. The road weaved through neatly trimmed hedgerows and bright yellow fields of rapeseed. When we met another car we would have to pull into a gateway to let it pass.

Finally we turned into the gravelled lane of Elderberry Farm, the house that Ben was raised in. We drove the length of it before pulling up in front of the imposing house, where Ben’s Golf was dwarfed by his parents’ bottle-green Land Rover Discovery.

The beauty of the house never failed to take my breath away. The first time I had come here with Ben, I had been awestruck by the seventeenth-century house with its yellowing sandstone walls, clay roof tiles and majestic portico. It was the kind of house that had usually nowadays been taken over by the National Trust or turned into a wedding venue because the owners couldn’t afford the up-keep. Ben had never let on that he came from such a wealthy background. The house was the seat of the Chamberlain family and had been in his family for generations.

“Ben, you said it was a farmhouse – not a big fuck-off mansion!” I had said in a panic. “Are you royalty or something? Why didn’t you tell me you grew up in a mansion?”

“You never asked.”

“Oh yeah, I forgot that that was normal first-date get-to-know-you talk: ‘So did you grow up in a mansion or not?’ I’m just waiting on Prince Charles to wave out the window at me!”

He started to laugh then. “Come on, Kate – I think that’s a slight overreaction.”

“But when you said ‘Elderberry Farm’– I assumed as in ‘farmhouse’.” All the farmhouses at home were either cottages or bog-standard three-bed bungalows like the one that I had grown up in.

He shrugged his shoulders. “What difference does it make?”

“Well, you could at least have warned me,” I had said sulkily. I’d already been feeling nervous about meeting Ben’s parents for the first time and this had just ratcheted everything up ten notches.

Now, as we climbed out, their two spaniels Admiral and Max came running from the back of the house. They started barking until they realised that it was Ben and then they both rushed at him, clambering over one another, competing for his attention.

“Easy, boys!” Ben said to them and then jumped up and down, causing them to get even more excited.

“I thought I heard a car.” Ben’s mum, Edwina, came from the back of the house to greet us. She was dressed in her usual uniform of navy wax jacket, cords and wellingtons. She had a wicker flower-basket brimming with stems of freshly cut lavender in one hand and her secateurs in the other. She placed them down on the ground and then took off her gardening gloves and stuffed them into her pockets.

“Hi, Mum!” Ben threw his arms around her neck and they hugged.

Then she came over and gave me a kiss on the cheek.

“Look at you – you are positively blooming!” she said in her plummy accent. She was what Nat would describe as a ‘jolly hockey sticks’ kind of woman.

“Eh, less of the blooming, please!” I said, laughing.

“Oh, I’m sorry, Kate – I don’t mean to insult you. I do remember what it’s like being pregnant! Come on inside, I’ll put the kettle on. I have some freshly made scones.” She poked Ben playfully in the ribs. She knew he always devoured her homemade scones. “Laura’s not here yet but she’s on her way.”

We walked inside, with Ben linking her arm. I could tell she was excited at having her son return to the nest even if it was just for one night.

We went around to the rear of the house and in through the back door. They never used the front door these days. We followed Edwina down through the dark, cool passageways and into the kitchen. Old wooden beams crossed the ceiling above the aged brick walls. I sat down at the circular table covered with a blue checked oilcloth. The kettle whistled on the Aga and the smell of fresh baking filled the air. Edwina fussed around, serving us tea in china cups and scones with real butter melting on top. Originally this used to be the servants’ kitchen but now the family used it for themselves. They still had a housekeeper and a cook that came for a few hours every day but otherwise the days of a having full complement of servants was long gone.

“I don’t know where your dad has got to,” she said apologetically. “I think he’s down in the study reading over a brief. You know what he’s like . . . I’ll go and call him.”

Ben’s father, Geoff, was a barrister.

“It’s good to be home,” Ben said, sitting back into the chair when she went in search of his dad. The two spaniels lay at his feet on the flagstones, their tails wagging rhythmically as he rubbed them with his foot in turn.

Edwina came back into the room a minute later. “He’ll be up in a minute.”

“Admiral is getting on. Come here, old boy!” Ben said. The dog obediently got up from his lying position on the floor and rubbed his back alongside Ben’s thigh.

“Well, he is almost fourteen,” said his mother. “His joints are quite stiff in the mornings but he has a new lease of life seeing you today.”

“These scones are great, Edwina,” I said.

“Well, eat your fill, dear – you are eating for two after all! Now then, you two, have you got a photo to show me of my first grandchild?”

I took my treasured black-and-white scan picture of Baby Pip out from my bag and handed it to her. You could see the large head, bones of the spine and its two legs curled up. She (or he) was sucking her (or his) thumb in the grainy image.

“Well, isn’t that just amazing!”

I saw tears brimming in her eyes.

“Of course they didn’t have things like this in my day. Isn’t technology just marvellous?”

“It is indeed, Mum.”

“Now if you need anything when the time comes, anything at all, do not be afraid to ask. I would be delighted to help out – you know that.”

“We know, Mum, thanks.”

“I’ve told all the ladies in the Women’s Institute – I’m so looking forward to this stage of my life. We all love our children but it goes by so quickly and it is hard work, no matter what people say, so you never really get to enjoy it properly – but I’ve heard so many friends say that grandchildren give you a new lease of life. I can’t wait!”

Ben smiled indulgently at her.

“How’s school going, dear?”

“Good, Mum, they’re keeping me on my toes.”

“Oh, I bet they are! And Kate – how’s work in the gallery?”

“Well, we’ve just taken on a new photographer and we’ve already had a lot of interest in him so we’re pretty excited about that.”

Just then the broad figure of Ben’s father filled the doorway. He stood there, clearing his throat loudly. He stood at a towering six foot five inches tall. Ben was tall at six foot three but he hadn’t quite reached his dad’s stature.

“I believe congratulations are in order!” he boomed, coming over and shaking both our hands.

Pouring himself a cup of tea, he sat down alongside us at the table. He had been away the last time we had come to tell them the news.

I noticed Ben sit up a bit straighter.

“Thanks, Dad.”

I could hear nervousness in his voice. His father always had this effect on him. He always turned into a schoolboy around him when he was so confident and self-assured in every other area of his life. Ben’s dad couldn’t accept that Ben had dropped out of law at Cambridge and had then chosen to be a teacher. He believed law was in their blood – three generations of Chamberlain men had studied law and Ben would have been the fourth – but he broke the line and it seemed that his dad couldn’t forgive him for that.

“So how have you been keeping, Kate? Good, I hope?”

“Very well, thank you.” He wasn’t the kind of man who would be entertained with tales of morning sickness and expanding waistlines. Because Ben was nervous around him, it made me nervous too.

“Jolly good. I dare say it will be hard though, raising children on a teacher’s wage.” He exhaled loudly through his nose and took a bite into the scone that Edwina had buttered for him. He chewed loudly.

I breathed in deeply. There it was: the first dig of the day. He just couldn’t help himself – the words tumbled effortlessly out of his mouth. He was like a boxer waiting on the right opportunity to throw a punch. It always went like this – Geoff would spend the whole time making snide and cutting remarks about his son’s choice of career.

“Well, I’m sure they’ll manage, Geoff,” Edwina said, in a tone which warned him that that was enough. She turned to us. “Why don’t you two take Admiral and Max for a walk – they need to run off some of the excitement at having you home and I’m sure you’d both like to stretch your legs after the drive down?”

Eager to escape the atmosphere in the kitchen, we did as we were told, chose some wellies from the endless pairs lined up at the pantry door and set out across the sloping fields. The dogs ran on ahead of us. We held hands as we walked along, stepping through the long grass. It felt so good to breathe in the fresh country air – it was definitely different from the air in London, heavy with its fumes and pollutants. You could feel its goodness as it filled your lungs.

I knew Ben was brooding. His footsteps were just that little bit too heavy as he trampled on the grass underneath.

“Are you okay?”

“Yeah – I’m used to it by now.”

“It still doesn’t excuse it. I don’t know why he can’t just be happy for you – you love your job and you would have hated every day of being a lawyer. It’s just not you.”

“He’s a lost cause.”

“Well, for a supposedly intelligent man, he’s a bit stupid. Some people get so entrenched in their beliefs that they overlook the important things in life. It’s very sad actually.”

“Well, I’ll never be like that to Baby Pip – no matter what he wants to do –”

“Or she,” I reminded him playfully, as he was so fond of doing to me.

“Or she – once she or he is happy, then I’m happy.”

I put my arms around his neck. “You’re going to be a great father.”

“I hope so,” he said seriously. “It’s a big job being responsible for a little person, doing your best to mould them into a well-rounded adult . . .”

“You think about things too much.”

“Well, it’s a big thing raising a child. I just hope we get it right, that’s all.”

“Jeez, Ben . . . will you stop freaking me out!”

Laura was seated in the kitchen when we got back to the house.

“Congratulations, little brother!” she said, jumping up and throwing her arms around Ben’s neck as soon as we came in the door. “And of course you too, Kate – let’s face it, it’s you who’s doing most of the hard work!” She gave me a kiss on the cheek and hugged me warmly. We had told her our news on the phone but this was the first time we’d seen her face to face since we’d found out I was pregnant.

“Eh, I’ve had my part to play in it too, you know!” Ben said, grinning at her.

At thirty-seven, she was two years older than Ben and she never let him forget it. Laura was tall too – their whole family was tall. She must have been at least five foot eleven in her bare feet and she never shied away from heels. I liked that about her – she had a take-me-as-I-am attitude and she wasn’t hung up or insecure about how she looked – unlike other people who would fret over their tummy or the size of their nose, Laura seemed to be blissfully unaware. She was genuinely happy in her own skin.

“I can’t believe I’ve been outlapped by my younger brother!” She plonked herself back down on to the chair. Ben and I sat down across from her while Edwina placed a pot of tea and more scones on the table before joining us. I was glad Geoff was nowhere to be seen. The atmosphere was always heavier when he was in the room.

“So how is my favourite spinster-in-the-making doing then?”

“Shut up, Ben – and I’ll have you know that that title no longer fits – I’m seeing someone actually.”

“Oh yeah?” Ben and Edwina both looked incredulous.

In the whole time that I had been with Ben, I had never known Laura to have a boyfriend. Her last boyfriend had been a fellow barrister and a complete pratt by all accounts. Ben had never liked him. Although he was in the legal profession, he had felt the law was for other people, not him. He had been arrested for drink driving but had managed to get it hushed over because of who he was, so was never prosecuted. But the real straw that broke the camel’s back came when Laura had found out that he had a bit of thing for using prostitutes on the side. She had seen his car one night pulled into a lay-by on a road near their home, so, thinking that he must have broken down, she pulled up beside it. She got out of her car and went over to his and when she looked in the window, she saw her boyfriend with his trousers around his ankles and his head thrown back in pleasure as the woman crouched down over him. She had banged on the window then. “He actually had the audacity to look irritated because I had disturbed him – and it wasn’t as if he wasn’t getting it at home!” she would say to anyone she told the story to.

“So who’s the new guy then?” Edwina asked.

“His name is Tim Templeton.”

“What kind of a name is that? He sounds like a character out of Noddy,” Ben said. “Are you sure he really exists and isn’t a fabrication of your overactive imagination?”

“I’ll have you know he is a living and breathing, sound-minded human being and we love each other very much.”

“Who in their right mind would call their child Tim Templeton?” Ben said, laughing.

She fired a cushion at him.

“Hey, stop it, you two!” Edwina scolded.

“So what does this Tim Templeton fellow do?” Ben was trying to keep a straight face on when he said his name.

“He’s a musician actually – he plays the cello in the Philharmonic Orchestra.”

“And does he know that he is dating someone who is completely tone deaf?”

“I’m not that bad, Ben.”

“Oh yes, you are.”

“Mum – tell him!”

“Well, let’s just say you were the only child that was asked not to sing during the school concert.”

“Mum!”

“It’s true, Laura – the other children complained that they found it off-putting.” Edwina started to laugh heartily at the memory.

“Well, I must say – I have a jolly lovely family!” Laura said in mock indignation.

We chatted easily for a while until it was time to go and change for dinner. Ben’s family were very traditional in many respects – everyone still changed for dinner and reconvened back in the drawing room for an aperitif before going into the formal dining room to eat. The first time I had come to meet them, I had panicked because I hadn’t brought any clothes to change into. The only other clothes that I had brought with me were jeans and jumper for the next day. But if she had noticed, his mother had never said anything to me, which I was grateful for.

I got changed into a forest-green jersey dress, another one of my new maternity-wear collection. That was another thing that I had noticed: all of the maternity clothes in the shops were made from jersey fabric. I mean everything. I looked at myself in the mirror. I had recently had my blonde hair chopped into a bob and I still got a fright whenever I saw my reflection. I needed something to brighten up the outfit so I wrapped a burnt-orange patterned silk scarf around my neck. We were just about to leave the room when I decided to grab a cardigan to put on over the dress because, once you left the kitchen, which had the Aga to keep it cosy, the house was bloody freezing. Even at the height of summer.

We went into the drawing room where Ben’s parents were seated on the Chesterfield sofa. Candles filled the room with a soft glow as the light illuminated the dark age-spots on the mirror. Laura was seated on a wing-backed armchair. Edwina hopped up when we entered the room and offered us an aperitif of Dubonnet. I abstained but Ben took one of the crystal glasses from her and we sat down on the four-legged sofa across from them. I hated this sofa – it was perched up high on four castors and was so deep that when I sat back into it properly a short-arse like me felt like a child whose feet were dangling over the edge.

We chatted for a while and then went through to the parquet-floored dining room and took our seats at the polished mahogany table. It could comfortably seat twenty people and Ben told me stories of fabulous dinner parties his parents used to throw when he was a child. These days Edwina was lucky to have five people around her table. The walls were papered in Chinese hand-painted wallpaper, which Ben’s parents went to great lengths to preserve. Gilded paintings of Ben’s forebears stared down sternly on us all.

“I wonder what they would think of your career choice?” I muttered to him. “They’re probably turning in their graves right now.”

He gave me a dig in the ribs.

“Ouch! Watch the baby!” I said in mock anger.

After we had eaten our goat’s cheese starter, Ben’s mum served up a goose and roast potatoes dripping in its fat.

“Bloody hell, Edwina – there’s only five of us!” said Geoff. “We’ll be eating the leftovers of that bird for weeks to come yet.”

“Nonsense, Geoffrey – you know I like to cook a special meal whenever the children return. I had Rob kill it for me yesterday.”

Rob was the farmhand who had been working with the family for over fifty years now.

“How is he doing?” Ben asked as he helped himself to some peas. He served me some before passing the dish to Laura. “We used to have such fun with him – hey, Laura, remember that time we took the tractor out but we didn’t know how to stop it and he had to run after it and jump on?” Ben turned to her and laughed.

“I never knew that!” Edwina said in shock. “My Lord, you could have both been killed!”

“Eh, that’s why we didn’t tell you,” Ben said.

“Any sign of him retiring?” Laura asked.

“Not yet, thank goodness,” Edwina said. “I dare say it will be a sad day when he finally does.”

“He’s irreplaceable.” Ben nodded in agreement.

“No one is irreplaceable,” Geoff cut in.

“Well, dear, I would argue that Rob comes pretty damn close to it,” Edwina said tersely.

We all looked at our plates and ate the rest of the food without much talk.

After pudding, the rest of them sipped dessert wine but I stuck with the water. I never could stomach dessert wine, pregnant or not.

“So how’s school, Ben?” Geoff asked but the words seemed to stick in his throat as they came out.

“Great – I have Year Two, so we’re just starting the basics of addition and subtraction.”

“Hmmh.”

“Ben is really good at his job, you know.” I don’t know what possessed me to say this. Suddenly all eyes were on me. “He received the school’s Teacher of the Year Award last year and he’s being put forward for the head of the Maths Department, aren’t you, Ben?”

“Fantastic!” Edwina said.

Ben glared at me. Nobody spoke for what felt like an eternity.

“Well, isn’t that wonderful? So not only do you have a woman’s job but you also let your girlfriend do the talking for you, Ben.” Geoff slammed his wineglass down hard onto the table so that the crystal was left ringing.

I felt stupid then. I had just made everything worse. Much worse.

“Dad!” Laura said.

“There is no need to be so rude,” Edwina said sharply to her husband. “I get to have my children home only a handful of times a year and then you have to ruin it for everyone!”

“I’m just stating the obvious.”

“I will not let you speak to my son like that!”

“Although you would never think it, he is my son as well actually,” Geoff continued coolly and he took a sip from his wine.

“Well, then act like it!” she said, her voice steely, before she pushed back her chair and walked out of the room.

Ben and I averted our eyes. I just wanted the ground to swallow me whole. What had I just started? We both sat there rooted to our chairs, neither of us knowing whether we should go after his mother or just stay where we were.

“Well, I hope you’re happy now, Dad!” Laura said, standing up, her eyes blazing. She turned and went out after Edwina.

Geoff got up then and walked out of the room, leaving us on our own.

“Well, that was fun.” Ben let out a heavy sigh. He took his linen napkin off his knee and tossed it onto the table. Its corner landed in the gravy boat and I watched as the white linen soaked up the brown liquid.

I stood up and took it out again. “I’m sorry, Ben – I know I shouldn’t rise to him but it just came out. I get so annoyed with how he belittles you all the time. I just wanted him to know that you are a success – you may not work in law but you are good at what you do.” I reached out for his hand.

“I know you meant well but there is no reasoning with that man.”

“I’m so sorry.”

“It’s not your fault.”

“Maybe you should go after your mum. She looked upset.” I rubbed my temples. “I think I’ll head up to bed.” I could feel a tension headache coming on. The evening had left me exhausted.

I climbed the dark staircase and headed to our bedroom. The room we were staying in was at the front of the house. I drew the drapes that hung on either side of two huge windows overlooking the driveway. The room was furnished with all the original dark mahogany furniture. A tall standing mirror stood over in front of one of the windows beside a lacquered screen. The bed was covered with a pelmet and a roll-top bureau sat in the corner beside the fireplace. All the rooms had open fireplaces although the family never used the ones in the bedrooms any more. The floorboards were covered with Persian rugs that were almost threadbare they were so old.

I got changed quickly because the room was so cold and hurriedly climbed under the covers. I was glad to find that Edwina had put a hot-water bottle in the bed earlier to warm the sheets.

I read my book until the door opened a while later. Ben came in and closed it softly behind him.

“Well, how is she?” I said, putting my bookmark between the pages and closing the book shut.

“She’s okay – a bit upset though.”

“Of course she is. Did he apologise to her?”

“Dad – apologise? Some chance!” He sat on the edge of the bed and took off his boots.

“Well, I’m sorry, I know he’s your dad but he really is an ignorant man.”

He climbed into bed beside me and put his cold feet beside mine on top of the hot-water bottle and started moving it over to his side.

“Oi! Get lost!” But I let him take it anyway. “I feel really terrible about it all.”

“Why? You did nothing wrong.”

“I know but I should have just kept my mouth shut. I feel bad for your mum – she enjoys your visits so much but then this happens.”

“I don’t let him get to me any more – it used to. It used to really upset me when he would say things like that but now I know I’ll never get his approval no matter what I do, so there’s no point even trying.”

“You don’t need his approval.”

“I know,” he sighed.

“Here – it’s my turn,” I said, using my foot to bring the hot-water bottle back over to my side. “Well, I think now you’ll be taking a leaf out of my book.”

“How do you mean?”

“Well, after tonight I wouldn’t blame you if you wanted to avoid going home for a while. I can give you some tips!” I said, laughing.

The following morning I could tell that Edwina was putting on a brave face as she served us up breakfast. She was trying to force cheer into her voice. Laura was chatting about her flat-mate, telling us some anecdote about how she came home steaming drunk and tried to get into bed with her.

None of us mentioned what had happened the night before as we tucked into our Eggs Benedict. Ben was noticeably quieter.

Laura set off for home after breakfast and Ben went out to put our cases in the car, so it was just myself and Edwina alone in the kitchen. After a minute she placed her knife and fork down on her plate and turned to me.

“Is he all right?”

“He’s okay. I think he’s used to it by now.”

She let out a long sigh. “I’m at my wits’ end with him.”

“Who? Ben?”

“No – Geoffrey.”

Edwina never confided in me about her husband and I wasn’t sure what to say.

“We had a blazing row after you two went to bed last night – there is just no getting through to him.”

“I see.”

“You know, he’s going to be a grandfather soon and I think it’s time to just let bygones be bygones, but he is resolutely stubborn.”

“But why can’t he just be happy for Ben? Ben loves his job. He is happy. I wish Geoff would just accept it.”

“So do I,” she said wearily. “So do I. But it’s not just about his job – it’s been going on for years. I can remember one time very clearly – Ben must have been only about eight or nine and he came home from school and said quite innocently to Geoff that his friend Richard’s dad was a solicitor, just like he was. Geoff started to roar at him. ‘I’ll have you know I am not a solicitor, you stupid boy!’ he spat. ‘I am a barrister – there is a world of difference!’ I’ll never forget it – the look of fear and confusion on poor Ben’s face. He didn’t understand what he had said wrong. He was too young to understand his faux pas. I told Geoffrey to calm down, that it was a silly mistake, and that Ben was only a child. But Ben had got such a fright that he started crying which added fuel to his father’s rage. Then Geoffrey shouted at him to ‘stop being such a mummy’s boy’.” Her hands fluttered to her neck and she fingered the chain around it. “That was the start of it, Kate. From that point on they always seemed to be rubbing each other up the wrong way although Geoff should have had more sense. Ben was only a child.”

“Ben never told me any of this.”

“I’m not surprised. I’m sure they aren’t his favourite memories of his childhood. Then there was rugby – as you know, Geoffrey is big into his rugby and he had always assumed that when he had a son he would follow in his footsteps and play schools rugby and beyond. But Ben never had an interest in the game. It wasn’t that he didn’t like sport because he competed in athletics and he liked rowing in school but just didn’t enjoy rugby. Geoff just couldn’t accept it – he would force Ben to tog out at the side of the pitch for under-eights training and poor Ben would wait all game and only be brought on for the last five minutes. Then, when he’d go on to the pitch, he’d get trampled on and Geoffrey would shout at him the whole time – ‘Tackle him, Ben! Take him down, Ben!’ But it wasn’t in Ben’s nature to be rough – he’d rather let people hurt him than hurt somebody else. Then in the car on the way home Geoff would spend the whole journey telling him what a disappointment he was. Ben only told me about it all recently – obviously, if I had known back then, there was no way I would have let Geoff get away with doing that to him.”

I was stunned. Ben had never told me any of this. It probably hurt too much. I couldn’t believe what a bully Geoff actually was. My heart broke for Ben. Maybe that was why he was so patient with the children in his class – because he knew how horrible it was to be shouted at as a child.

Ben came back into the kitchen. “Right then, we’re all packed up – time to hit the road.”

“Yes, of course,” said Edwina. “You don’t want to leave it too late, or you might hit traffic with everyone making their way back up to town again for work tomorrow.” She stood up from the table and brushed down her skirt.

She walked us out to the car and we hugged goodbye and set off for home. Geoff didn’t surface to see us off. He stayed down in whatever room he was içnoring us from. I knew that even after we were gone the tension between Ben’s parents would probably linger on. Poor Edwina! She didn’t deserve any of this. It must be awful to be caught between the man you love and your children, especially when he was such an obstreperous oaf.

Chapter 8

The next morning I watched Nat through the window as she chained her bike up on the railing outside, even though there was a sign affixed to the front of it saying ‘No Cycles Please’. She would keep watch periodically in case a warden came around to remove it.

“So how did you get on in Surrey?” She pronounced ‘Surrey’ grandly as ‘Sorrrey’.

“Yeah, we had a nice time. It was good to see his mum and Laura but his dad didn’t disappoint as his usual arsehole self.”

“That man sounds like a complete dick.”

I had told Nat countless stories about him before.

“To put it mildly – I can think of other words,” I said. “How was your weekend?”

“Really good, Kate – we went out with friends for drinks on Saturday night.”

I hated the way she used the word ‘friends’. To be honest it made my skin crawl. All of Will’s friends had mistresses on the side. Nat had told me this before and I knew this was who she was referring to. I had been horrified when she first told me. She had made it sound like it was just another hobby to these men – the way Ben goes running or another person might enjoy knitting. They would all go out together just like any normal group of friends, except they weren’t – the one thing that they had in common was that all the men had wives and children tucked up in bed at home. Some of them even holidayed together – Nat had told me about two couples that had just come back from ten days in Langkawi. They had lived it up in a five-star all-inclusive resort and told their wives that they were in Asia ‘on business’. I thought the whole thing was seedy and horrible and couldn’t understand why Nat would want to be involved in a circle built on lies like that. I knew that she and Will were seeing a lot more of each other these days, at least several times a week, but she thought that they were different to those other couples. To her, those women were a bit on the side whereas what she and Will had was different, more special somehow. But I bet the other mistresses thought the same about her.

Sunlight started to creep across the honey-oak flooring and up along the white walls as the day went on. It was quiet. We had a few time-wasters who liked to browse around the gallery but had no intention of buying anything. You could spot them a mile off – they were usually the same old faces that lived in the leafy streets surrounding the gallery and had nothing better to do with their lives. Then they would question us to the nth degree about the photographer and his subject matter and who his muses were, like they were going to buy, but they just never bit the bullet.

My phone rang then and I rooted around in the bottom of my bag and managed to get it on the last ring. I saw Edwina’s number flash up.

“Hi, Edwina, is everything okay?” Even though I got on very well with my mother-in-law, she usually rang Ben if she needed to talk to us.

“Yes, of course, dear. I know you’re probably in work now but I just wanted to say that I’m sorry we never got to finish our conversation yesterday but I didn’t want Ben to know that we were talking about him.”

“Don’t worry, I won’t say a word.”

“Oh, thank you. It’s just that I think Ben is a bit embarrassed by it all, although Lord knows Geoffrey is the one who should be embarrassed! I also just wanted to, well . . . apologise for his behaviour.”

“You don’t need to apologise –”

“Well, one of us does and hell will freeze over before it’s Geoff. I love having you and Ben to visit – I just wish it didn’t have to turn out like that every time.” She sighed heavily.

“Me too.”

“You will come again, though, won’t you? You won’t let Geoffrey put you off?”

“Of course we will.”

“Oh good.” The relief in her voice was obvious. “It’s just with your baby on the way, well, I don’t want to be cut off from the child’s life because of Geoffrey.”

“Don’t worry, Edwina – we want you to be a big part of this baby’s life.”