Chapter Six

JUNE

'What time is she coming?' Tom asked. 'Who?'

'Well excuse me, but I thought all this shining and polishing and getting out the best linen was to impress your mother-in-law,' Tom said.

'Oh, sorry Tom, I was miles away. Hannah's coming about half past twelve.'

'Let's get the skates on then, and go and make some soup,' he suggested.

Cathy leaped up guiltily. Tom had been here since five a.m., and she had been barely able to get in by nine. The bread had been delivered to Haywards, he had stopped at the fish shop on the way back, he had got all the vegetables and a huge lamb bone for a big soup order, he had already made her two cups of coffee and she had done nothing. Of course she hadn't told Neil last night. There had been no time. After the hours of crying in Geraldine's flat she had felt drained. Neil had been distracted, stuck in his books. And as Geraldine had soothed and consoled her over and over, it might be a false alarm. She must get a Predictor first, from the chemist, and then go to a doctor. Then and only then should she tell Neil.

'Tom, I'm so sorry. Here, pass me over the knife, I'll start chopping the basil and tomatoes.'

'She'll think it's tinned,' he objected.

'No she won't, so what, anyway?'

'You've got very courageous suddenly,' he said.

'No, I'm still terrified of her, but at least now I know there's no pleasing her, so that helps a bit.' Cathy's eyes were a little too bright.

'I don't think you should have a knife in your hand this morning,' Tom said. 'You'll be in ribbons by the time she comes. Leave the dangerous stuff to me.'

'Great. So what do I do?'

'Set the table, get some flowers.'

They had a great bank of flowerpots in a wheelbarrow in their courtyard. Whenever they wanted a table decoration they just lifted out a pot of primulas, pansies or begonias, cleaned it around the edges and placed it in a brass container. When the function or the need to impress was over, the plant went back outdoors.

'That doesn't sound very much,' Cathy said.

'And start practising your smile. Remember the last time Hannah Mitchell was here? You were shouting at her like a fishwife about her coat and your mother and assorted other topics.'

'Oh, we've all mellowed since those days,' Cathy said loftily.'I think we'd need to have,' said Tom, who had already got the stock into the soup saucepan and begun the work.

'Imagine, we'll be going home on the bus today,' Simon said to Maud.

'By ourselves, no Muttie,' Maud said.

'He said he might happen to be walking by the school sometimes, and he'd walk us to the bus,' Simon said.

'But he's probably going to the shoemaker's or the bookmaker's, it's not really on his way,' Maud worried.

'How else will we ever see Hooves?' Simon said, and they looked at each other in concern. It hadn't been actually said, but they knew that social visits to St Jarlath's Crescent were going to be very few and far between.

'You're a very sweet girl, you know, Geraldine,' Freddie said as they had coffee together in her office. He had called in to discuss the Italian villa presentation, which would be upcoming soon. But they were also talking about his own party, for which Geraldine's niece and her parIner were going to do the catering.

'I know I am,' Geraldine said. I'm totally delightful, but in what particular way at the moment?'

'You're as anxious as I am that the party Pauline and I are having will be a success,' he said in some wonder.

'But why ever not, Freddie? I don't want anything from you except what I have, your company, your interest, your concern, your wonderful loving… Why should I not be interested and wish it all well?'

'You're amazing. You really mean it.' Freddie Flynn had not come across such women before.

'You know what the French used to say about a mistress. She must be discreet, and never, ever do anything that would upset the man's family, his children and certainly not his property…' She laughed engagingly at him.

'You ask so little, Geraldine,' he said in a throaty voice.

'But that's not true, and truly I have so much.' She waved her hand around the office, the business that was hers alone. The hand that she waved had a jewelled watch on the wrist.

'So Cathy will come round to the house and set it all up with Pauline, will she?'

'Yes, Cathy or Tom, they take it turn by turn. He's just as good,' Geraldine said.

She hoped it would be Tom that made the visit. The way poor Cathy was behaving at the moment, she wouldn't be able to keep her eye on the ball at all.

'Nice to see you, Mrs Mitchell, and don't you look well.

'Thank you, Shona,' Hannah patted her hair. 'I've just had a glorious hour in the salon. I'm going to have lunch with Cathy, as it happens. I thought I'd buy her a little gift. What do you suggest?'

'Well, now, if it were anyone else I'd say a loaf of that delicious bread that Scarlet Feather does for us, but you'll be having that anyway… Flowers are always nice, a fancy soap maybe?'

'The bread doing well, is it?'

'We can't keep it on the shelves or in the restaurant. I told Tom that we're going to have to make him an offer he can't refuse and come and work here full-time.'

'Imagine.' Hannah was surprised.

'Anyway, enjoy your lunch, Mrs Mitchell. Lots of people would envy you, you know.'

'Yes, I'm beginning to realise that,' Hannah said in a disapproving voice.

She still found it hard to accept that she was lucky to begetting a meal cooked for her by the maid's daughter. But she must not think like that, or else something would slip out as it so often did for absolutely no reason at all, and then everyone took horrific offence and Neil sighed and Jock sighed and Cathy went totally berserk. Don't say poor Lizzie. It was just an expression, but try telling that to Cathy Scarlet.

James Byrne had decided to cook a dinner that night. Not the real one, not the one he was rehearsing for, but just to see whether he could or not. And as it happened, Martin Maguire was going to be in Dublin. He would try it out on him. He took out Cathy and Tom's meticulous instructions - they had even typed out advice about the shopping. It was a Monday morning, he had nothing else to do with his time, he would go to the market that they had suggested with their list in hand. Martin Maguire would be very surprised indeed to be presented with such a gourmet meal. And it would be great practice for James. He had enjoyed those two evenings with Tom and Cathy enormously, and wished he could think of an excuse for more. But he must remember that this had been his undoing before. Becoming too fond of people, too dependent. It must not happen again.

'This house will never be the same,'Muttie said when the children had left for school. 'Those people won't get the children to do their homework the way we did.' He shook his head sadly.

'They'd know more than we do,' Lizzie said.

It had always worried her, looking after the children of the quality in her own home.

This was something that had never worried Muttie. 'It's a matter of discipline,' he said firmly. 'This house has proper rules and regulations.' And at that, he got out the paper and studied the racing pages, while Hooves laid his sad black head on his knee, and the woman that the children still called Muttie's wife got ready to leave a house that had proper rules and regulations to go out and clean the apartments and houses of the quality.

Joe Feather called his brother.

'Could I buy you a nice pint and a plate of sausages for lunch?' he offered.

'God, I'd love it Joe, but it has to be late. I'm setting up a lunch here for Cathy's mother-in-law!'

'Is it a big do?'

'No, only the two of them.'

'God, you've fallen on hard times, a lunch for two people. Have I invested in a Mickey Mouse company?'

'No, you fool, it's a social thing.'

They fixed a place to meet.

'Give Cathy my love. Thank her for everything yesterday.' Joe hung up.

'Hey, you didn't say you met my brother yesterday,' Tom said.

'Tom, I haven't said anything this morning. I'm like a zombie. I met him at Geraldine's, and he was a great help about the Chicago wedding. Actually he really was, I meant to tell you. I took lots of notes.'

'Geraldine's, no less?'

'Yeah, but they weren't thinking of withdrawing their funding or anything, it was about this fashion show he's putting on.'

'I know, Marcella's going to be one of the models, isn't it great?'

'Great,' said Cathy, wondering whether Tom knew that it was mainly lingerie that his girlfriend would be modelling.

'Come in, Mrs Mitchell.' Tom's smile rarely failed to hit its target.

'Oh, hallo, er… Tom, isn't it?'

'It is indeed, Mrs Mitchell, and how well you're looking, if I may say so.'

She patted her hair again. It was so wise to go to a good salon regularly. Cathy was so foolish in this regard, as in so many things.

'I didn't know that we were all going to… I mean

'No, no, I'm just serving you and then making myself scarce.'

'I heard you do marvellous bread for Haywards.'

'Thank you so much, they're very kind about it. I've left you a little selection to try, and also a packet to take home.'

Eventually the Tom Feather smile had worked. Hannah Mitchell was smiling back.

'You are a kind boy,' she said, as so many middle-aged, middle-class matrons had said to him over the last few months.

Cathy stood waiting, in a pink and lilac summer print dress that did her no favours, her face as white as a sheet, her hair tied back with an elastic band.

'You're welcome, Hannah,' she said in a flat voice.

'It's a pleasure to be here, and my goodness doesn't the place look nice!'

She looked around, and Tom hoped that Cathy would respond warmly to her, otherwise all this would be in vain. To his relief, Cathy was smiling.

'This is our front room, where we sit clients down and persuade them to have much bigger parties than they intended,' she said.

'Very nicely done,' Hannah looked around her with grudging admiration. 'Nice colours, too.'

'My mother made the curtains and covers,' Cathy said proudly.

Hannah looked at them in disbelief. 'Oh, Lizzie was always… marvellous with her hands,' she said eventually.

Tom sighed with relief, poured them a sherry and went to the kitchen.

'Tom, will you either eat that sandwich or throw it away, but for God's sake stop analysing it,' Joe said, laughing at the way his younger brother was unpicking all the ingredients.

'Look at what they charge for that, Joe, no seriously, look at it. A tired tomato, a piece of plastic cheese, a dead leaf of lettuce, half a hard-boiled, discoloured egg… A smear of cheap salad cream… And they dare to call that a Summer Salad Sandwich. What do visitors to this country think, tell me what do they say… ?'

'Oh, shut up and eat something else,' Joe said good-naturedly.

'Like those cremated sausages you're eating? People have no standards,' he was still ferocious.

'What am I going to do about Ma?' Joe asked.

'What about her?'

'Well, I've been going up there a bit,' Joe began.

'I know you have, Joe, and honestly it does mean so much to them…'

'But they say you drop in every second day…' Joe said.

'When I'm passing I do, it's no trouble…'

'Come on, who ever passes Fatima on the way anywhere?'

'I've had to do it, Joe, it's no big thing.'

'I'm sorry I left it all to you.'

'Well, you were in London, and anyway you're doing your bit now, it lightens the load.'

'Okay, okay. So what'll I do about Ma? She wants to come to the fashion show.'

'Well, let her, can't you?'

'Of course I can't.'

'I'll keep an eye on her.'

'No, not that, the clothes. Ma can't see them.'

'But why not, she came to our launch party. I don't think she enjoyed it very much but she was glad to be there…'

'But Tom, the garments…'

'What about them?'

'It's swimwear, lingerie, half-naked girls all over the place… Mam would only drop stone dead.'

'It's not all that, is it?' Tom asked with a hollow feeling in his stomach.

'Most of it.' Joe looked at his brother's face. 'Marcella told you, didn't she?' he said.

Neil went into Quentin's restaurant and sought out the elegant Brenda Brennan immediately.

'I'm having lunch with a real gangster, Brenda, he's going to try to get me drunk. Can you just put tonic at the bottom of my vodka glass each time… so that he thinks I'm having a real drink?'

'It's not fair to charge him then, Mr Mitchell.'

'You'll manage something, take it off something else… You know all the ways around things.'

'I've been long enough in the business for that, it's true, so perhaps, Mr Mitchell, if you'd like to keep your eyes down I'll lead you swiftly to a table without your having to meet your father, who will be exiting from a booth fairly imminently.'

Neil followed her as directed.

'You should run the world, Brenda!' he said, just glimpsing his father leaving with a blonde half his age.

'I often think I do,' Brenda Brennan sighed.

'That was delicious. That tomato soup, very sweet taste, and my heavens, that's good, that bread… You hardly ate any,' Hannah said.

'Hannah, I'm eating it all day, and all night… Tom is so proud of it, and olive bread isn't enough for him these days, you have to have green olive or black olive… he's such a perfectionist...'

'And what do we have now?'

Was there a time when she had dreaded this woman? How long ago it all seemed. 'It's monkfish, I think you'll like it, and quite a small helping to leave room for dessert…'

'I brought you this.' Hannah spoke gruffly, and thrust across the table a gift-wrapped Haywards parcel.

Cathy knew she must open it, however ill-timed; the monkfish with its saffron sauce, the green beans with tiny lardons of bacon and toasted almonds, the potatoes and ginger were all wafting up their vapours at them. It was a time to savour the food, not to open presents. But she unpicked the elegant wrapping and opened the gift. From the paper came an overwhelming and pungent smell of incense. Cathy felt slightly weak.

'It's wonderful, Hannah, what exactly… ?'

'It's one of those new very powerful aromatic oils for the shower, apparently young people like them…' Hannah began.

It was too much, the heady smell of that and the food. Cathy clutched her stomach and ran from the table, and knelt vomiting into the lavatory pan. She heard her mother-in-law calling outside the door.

'Cathy. Cathy, let me in, are you all right?'

Marcella looked up from arranging bottles of nail colour and saw Joe Feather in the salon.

'You're very, very beautiful,' he said in an odd sort of voice.

'Joe?' she was alarmed.

'Sorry, I'm actually just saying this as a fact… it is a fact… but I sort of let slip to Tom that the lines you'll be modelling are fairly sexy… And to be honest, I don't think he knew that.'

She looked at him, surprised. He began to wish he had never spoken.

'Now I'm getting out of it and letting you take it from here,

Marcella… okay?'

'Sure.' She was very calm.

'It's just that he adores you… you see.'

'Of course.'

Joe shrugged. 'It's just, I don't honestly think Tom knew.'

'Thank you, Joe,' she said in a voice that made him feel small.

'I'm so sorry, Hannah, you'll have to forgive me, that's why I wasn't eating so much bread. You see, I've had an upset tummy.'

'But you should have said, you should have cancelled the lunch…'

'No, please Hannah, look, I'm fine now.' Cathy forked herself a helping of the monkfish, which tasted like soap in her mouth, and forced herself to swallow it. She had moved the heavily scented bath oil to another part of the kitchen entirely. Eventually she felt her stomach return to normal. The conversation wasn't exactly easy. Every subject had a background; any chance remark, a history. They talked about the twins returning to The Beeches and how genuinely good Lizzie had been. Good and generous, all the right words. Hannah remarked that Cathy hadn't found time yet to go to the Haywards salon, and Cathy looked her in the eye, promising that she would go soon. They talked about Neil and how hard he worked, and how lucky Cathy was that Neil did not play golf like his father, otherwise she would be a total widow. And suddenly out of the blue Hannah mentioned Amanda.

'Cathy, can I ask you something… Do you think Amanda has some reason for not coming home to see us?'

This was a moment where Cathy could do some good or some ill; she had to be very careful. She barely remembered Amanda Mitchell, two years older than Neil, bossy, distant and didn't come to their wedding, but had sent a really great present… a top-class atlas and an expensive radio that got all kinds of frequencies and wave bands and a card saying, 'May you see the world and love it.' Cathy had thought that lovely of her. Although it might have been rather over-prophetic, if Neil still had it in his head that they should set off to see the world and love it full-time. She had often asked about Amanda. Up to now, her mother-in-law had been vague and dismissive; Amanda was too busy, too successful in Canada to keep in touch with a new sister-in-law whom she barely knew. Neil had been no help about her either. Manda was great, he said, her own person, great, no, of course he wouldn't telephone her, what would they say? It seemed very distant not to want to talk to your only sister about something… Cathy would prattle non-stop about her sisters in Chicago at any time. Now that Cathy had heard fairly authoritatively that Amanda was in a gay relationship in Toronto, what did she say or do?

'Perhaps she's met someone over there?' she suggested.

'I don't think so. Amanda was never particularly interested in men, she didn't bring boyfriends home when she was here… We always thought of her as a career woman.' Hannah was thoughtful.

'Maybe that's it, then, she's tied up in her career and the people she meets there, the other women who run the bookshop. Maybe that's her life now.'

It trickled away as other subjects of conversation had done. Soon Hannah made a move to leave.

'Won't you have more coffee?'

'No indeed, it was all quite perfect. I really enjoyed this lunch, and you look much better now, dear.'

'Yes, I'm so sorry… And thank you again for the beautiful bath oil.'

Even remembering the smell of it made Cathy feel slightly nauseous again, but she held on. She watched as Hannah left taking small steps across the cobbled courtyard. In all those years of fighting this woman with the small, pinched face, she never could have envisaged a day like today. A day when she would stand at the doorway of her own business and might very well be, as it happened, pregnant with this woman's grandchild.

Simon and Maud couldn't believe it. Outside the school stood Muttie and Hooves, waiting for them as usual.

'I thought you'd need to be settled onto that bus,'Muttie said simply. They looked at him, delighted. 'For the first day anyway, until you got the hang of it,' he said, and the little group headed off happily to the bus stop.

Sara was sitting in the garden rolling a cigarette when Neil arrived. He went to join her on the old wooden bench.

'How does it look inside?' he nodded towards the house.

'Okay… for the moment… but you get the feeling that your uncle could be poised for flight at any time; he's fairly unsatisfactory about his plans.'

'He always was,' Neil agreed ruefully.

'I'll keep an eye on it,' Sara promised. 'Just because kids live in a lovely big house like this doesn't mean that they still don't need someone to look out for them.'

'They should sell it and move somewhere much smaller, more manageable, but they won't hear of it. All puff and style and grandeur and nothing to back it up,' Neil said.

'You don't approve of him,' Sara said.

'He's never done a proper day's work in his life. My father takes it all fairly lightly, but he has put in hours in an office. Anyway, I think it's ridiculous in this day and age, one family living in all these rooms,' Neil looked back up at the house.

'You and Cathy don't have a big house, then?' Sara asked.

'Lord, no. Small place in Waterview.'

'Oh, I know those, they're nice. Still, not a place for a family, though, not like this place here is.'

'We don't have children,' said Neil Mitchell, proceeding to take the papers out of his briefcase and tell Sara the social worker where they needed her help for a report on the homeless that was going to be presented by an umbrella organisation. They pulled the old garden table up to them and worked away happily. From inside the house, Kenneth Mitchell watched them absently from one window, only mildly interested in these people in his garden. Kay Mitchell watched anxiously from another. It was nearly time for the children to come home, she had asked Mrs… Mrs Barry to make sandwiches for them. Mrs Barry wanted to know should the crusts be on or off; Kay decided eventually that there should be two plates, one with, one without.

'Please come in,Muttie,' Maud begged.

'No, child, honestly. Hooves and I will get another bus back.' He was very insistent.

'But we want to show you our house.'

'Another time, son, not the first day.'

'And Hooves could go for a run in the garden, our garden… please,Muttie.'

But he was firm. It wasn't sensible, not the first day, there would be people taking notes, he didn't want it to look as if he and Lizzie were trying to muscle in, get more than their fair share of the twins.

'You mean, like… everyone wants us to be with them.' Simon was puzzled at this possibility.

'Of course we do, but the best thing is that your own mam and dad are back to take care of you, now that they're in a position to do so,'Muttie spoke with a heavy heart. Nothing he had heard from Cathy made him think that this was any fit pair to be looking after the children.

'But you will come in sometime, will you,Muttie?' Simon begged.

'Of course I will, son, when you're more settled, when Hooves is more acceptable.'

'And we're definitely coming to St Jarlath's Crescent at the weekend, that's agreed with Sara,' Maud said anxiously.

'Of course you are, child, and Lizzie and I are looking forward to it greatly, so we are.'

'I wish…' Maud began.

'So in you go now, like a good girl,'Muttie said before anyone could say what they wished.

'Sandwiches!' Simon said, pleased.

'Thank you very much, Mother,' Maud said.

They sat down at the table and their parents watched them admiringly. Neil and Sara had come in from the garden.

'How many may we have?' Simon asked.

'Well, they're all for you, of course.' Kay Mitchell was proud to be seen to be such a provider.

'Yes, but won't it take our appetite away for tea?' Maud asked.

'Muttie's wife Lizzie always says only one biscuit each when we come in, otherwise it will spoil tea.'

'Well, this is tea,' poor Kay stammered.

'No, I meant real tea, you know, bacon and egg tea,' Simon asked.

'Or tinned beans or whatever,' Maud said in a small voice, as if realising that all was not entirely well.

Kay looked wildly from her husband to Sara. 'Nobody said anything about bacon and eggs, there was to be a tea ready and it's ready.' She looked about to cry.

'Well that's fine, Mother, we'll just eat them all now,' Simon said.

'It's enough for me, really,' Maud assured her.

Sara and Neil exchanged glances. Kenneth Mitchell looked out into the garden as if inspiration and solutions would come from the wilderness he saw.

'I had lunch with Hannah,' Cathy said to Neil that evening when they were both back at Waterview.

'Well done.' He went to the fridge to pour two glasses of Chardonnay.

'She was fine. She talked a lot about Amanda.'

'Sorry, she does drone on about her. Hey, have you gone all total abstainer on me? That's the second glass of wine you've waved away; you must be sickening for something.'

'I just don't want it now. Neil, did you know Amanda's gay?'

'No, I didn't. Did my mother tell you that? I just don't believe it.' He was open-mouthed at the very thought.

'Of course she didn't.'

'And since when?'

'I've no idea, but those women I did a reunion for the other day mentioned it, and I checked with another woman who knew her in Dublin when she worked in a travel agency, and this woman is gay herself and she said yes, it's true, and Amanda has this marvellous partner and they work in a bookshop together…'

'Well, imagine that! Manda, who would have thought it? Good luck to her, I say.'

'And so do I, Neil, I say good luck to her, and all our friends will… It's her mother and father who might not be so jolly about it.'

'No… you speak only the truth,' he said, grinning ruefully.

'So anyway, I thought you'd like to know,' Cathy said.

'Cathy, how did you try to tell this news to my mother? I've pleaded some pretty impossible cases in my time, but this one I must hear.'

She laughed. 'No, I didn't even get to first base. Listen, are you going to sit down with that wine, or are you going to take it to work with you?'

'I'm taking it to work with me, by which I mean next door. I have a hell of a lot to finish on this homeless thing… I met Sara today with the twins, by the way, and she's a lot of help…'

'Oh, how did it all go? I'm dying to hear. Sit down for a minute and tell me.'

Neil sat down. 'It was amazing, she explained that there is funding, but that no one can really get at it. It needs the right questions to be asked at the right time… She gave me lots of notes.'

'Funding?' Cathy was bewildered.

He explained at length about a European Union grant that might be available for the homeless, and how the ad hoc committee musIn't throw away this piece of information at once, they must keep it as a card to play later once they had got some muscle. Eventually, after a lot of listening to details of strategy, there was a moment when she could get in a word about Maud and Simon.

'Oh, they were fine,' he said,getting up to leave the table.

'No, sit down and tell me, Neil, did they have a welcome, any kind of a meal for them?'

'Yes, they had sandwiches.'

'Is that all?'

'The twins were so funny, they kept asking about their real tea. Sara took over, it's under control.'

And that was all she was going to hear. And it seemed it was not the night to tell him about anything else.

Tom was looking for the right way to mention the fashion show to Marcella. A way that would not reveal the sick feeling at the base of his stomach that she was going to be walking around half naked in front of strangers. He knew that this jealousy had nearly destroyed them before; he must keep it under control. She loved only him, he knew this, for heaven's sake. Why couldn't she just keep her clothes on and join him in the business? But he realised so well that this was destructive. It was impossible to fathom why someone as loving and happy in a relationship as she claimed she was still wanted to strut about in swimwear and lingerie. But he must be careful. This kind of suspicion and possessiveness was what had made her walk out before. He was walking on eggshells. To his surprise, she brought the subject up herself.

'You won't believe the colours that Feather Fashions have for the show, lime greens and fuchsias… nobody could want to wear that kind of underwear.'

Tom let his breath out slowly. At least she was telling him that it was lingerie.

'No, give me basic black lacy stuff any day,' he smiled.

'Just so that you realise it's all a bit of fun?' she said.

'Of course.' His heart was heavy. She was preparing him. 'And the swimwear, what colour is that?'

She seemed relieved that he knew about that much, anyway. 'The same, mad, wild colours, almost luminous… He either hasn't a clue what he's doing, or else he's got it just right… There's a very fine line between the two.'

He stared at her. She really was obsessed by the whole fashion business. It didn't have anything at all to do with stripping off in public. He would be mad to let that thought settle in his mind.

'Darling, you'll never believe who was just on the phone!' Kenneth Mitchell said to his wife as he came back from the phone in the hall.

'Who was it, dear?'

'Old Barty coughed up out of nowhere.'

'Barty… Our best man!' she cried, pleased.

'Yes, I told him he could stay. He's got a vintage car, or a veteran one, whichever… He's going to take it to some show.'

'What did he cough up?' Simon asked.

'Sorry?' His father looked at him vaguely.

'Was it blood?' Maud asked fearfully.

'Or a pint of stout.Muttie coughed up a pint of stout once, his wife Lizzie was very annoyed.'

Their parents looked at them, confused.

'Anyway, old Barty says he'll take us all for a spin in the car, Saturday. You kids too.' He looked at them, proud of the treat.

'But on Saturday we go to St Jarlath's Crescent,' Maud said.

'To see Hooves and Muttie and Muttie's wife Lizzie.'

'No, darling, you can go another day. Those people won't mind,' their mother said.

'No, we can't go another day, honestly they'll be getting ready. They're making a proper tea and everything, we asked for sausages.' Maud was almost tearful.

'Well telephone them and say it's off, that's a good girl.' Her father was brisk.

'Why do I have to do it?' Maud was now mutinous.

'Because I don't know them, my sweet child, and you do.'

'Why can't Simon do it?' Maud complained.

'Girls are better at that sort of thing, darling,' her father said.

'They'll be so upset,' Maud said to Simon.

'And I'm upset too,' Simon said.

'I wanted to see Hooves. I have a new trick to teach him.'

'It's not fair,' Maud said.

'It's not,' Simon agreed.

They looked at each other.

'Let's ring Cathy,' they both said at the same time.

Cathy said they were to leave it with her, just say that they had telephoned and found Cathy there and spoken to her as her parents weren't in.

'But that's not exactly true,' Simon said. 'We did ring you at Waterview.'

'Yes, but I could have been in St Jarlath's Crescent. I don't think we should worry about it, do you?' Cathy was brisk.

'A white lie,' Simon suggested.

'Hardly a lie at all,' Cathy assured him.

'Neil, this is not going to happen,' she fumed at him.

'Hey, peace, peace… I'm on your side, of course it's not going to happen.'

'So who rings your uncle and tells him, do you or do I?'

'I'll ring Sara,' he said. 'That's her job, and she'll tell them.'

'But she's not at work now, surely.'

'I have her mobile number,' Neil said, somewhat to Cathy's surprise.

As it happened, when old Barty turned up he didn't have his car at all, so the outing would never have taken place.

'Just as well the children went off to those people,' Kenneth Mitchell said.

'What people?' Barty asked as he sat down at the table and Kay fussed around vaguely, bringing in first a plate of bread, then a dish of butter, then removing the bread to toast it.

'Oh, some people who live up in some terrible place, but they've been very good to the twins

'Are they family?'

'No, or yes, in a way, through marriage. Very complicated…' Kenneth ended the discussion mainly in order to cover the fact that he wasn't entirely sure why his son and daughter had been looked after for months by a couple with the extraordinary names of Muttie and Muttie's wife.

'What did happen to your car, Barty?' Kay asked.

'Well, um… it's all a bit hard to explain… as old Ken here would say, it's all pretty complicated,' said Barty.

Kay went back to the kitchen to sort out what to do next. Barty explained to Ken in a low, urgent voice that he had actually lost the car in a card game, and wondered would his friend Ken help him win it back. Kenneth Mitchell explained in an equally low and urgent voice that things were not as they used to be. Today's world meant a budget, a tight budget worked out by Neil, that thin-faced nephew of his, and policed by people like this boy's wife and a social worker. Had to account for every single thing. His incomings, small as they were, from a couple of directorships and the rental of a property, went straight into some fund or trust, and a living allowance was paid out each month. Degrading to say the least. Old Barty hadn't given up hope. Could they borrow against next month's living allowance? Kenneth proved to be a changed man in this area… Things were too precarious, he said. Sorry, Barty old man, can't do.

'The dancing teacher's coming round tonight,' Lizzie told the twins.

'Oh, good, will we wear our costumes?' Simon wanted to know.

'No, I don't want them getting all messed up, I've made up cheap kilts and cloaks for you so you can get the swish of it all…' Lizzie's face was glowing with pride over it all. 'The teacher says you need a bit of practice; suppose you were to take a tape home with you and practise in your kitchen back there?'

'Yes… yes, we could I suppose,' Simon looked doubtful.

'Or would that not be too easy?'Muttie wondered.

Simon threw him a grateful glance. 'You see, it's Father… He can't understand fellows dancing, he says, and he doesn't understand it being a family wedding. I said it was for our cousins coming from Chicago, and he didn't understand that either.'

Simon looked embarrassed by having to explain all this, but Muttie hastened to reassure him. 'Oh, a man like your father, who'd have travelled and all, he'd not be in the way of knowing the way things have changed, fellows dancing and leaping all over the place there are nowadays,' he said cheerfully.

'But it is a family wedding, isn't it?' Maud was always anxious to have things straight.

In a way… But of course…' Lizzie began. Humble again, and still not wanting to claim any kinship with the great Mitchells.

It is of course a family wedding. Isn't Cathy the sister of the bride, and she's married to Neil, your first cousin. What on earth could be closer than that?'Muttie asked. This satisfied the twins totally, and they ran off to teach Hooves the new trick before the dancing teacher came.

Muttie and Lizzie looked at each other.

'We should never have taken them in,' Lizzie said.

'We should never have let them leave,'Muttie said.

Neil went into his father's office. The solicitors' firm was a busy one, long established and middle-of-the-road. They didn't send many briefs to Neil Mitchell, fiery defender of causes, but then he didn't need them. There was plenty of work coming in from elsewhere. Neil wasn't coming in about business; this time it was family. He saw Walter through an open door, and paused for a moment. By righIs the boy should be brought in on it, but then he was much more likely to hinder than to help. Walter looked up. 'Neil?' he said without much pleasure.

'Glad to have the kids back at home?' Neil asked.

'What? Oh, yes, they're great,' Walter said unconvincingly.

'No problems with your parents or anything?'

'No, no, they leave me alone, I'm glad to say… and of course I'm not always there.'

'I meant with them and the twins,' Neil said coldly.

'I see. Of course. No, I don't think so. Should there be?'

Neil gritted his teeth. What a self-centred little monster Walter had become. He thought only of his own entertainment, his own good time. Neil remembered suddenly that he had lent the boy his very expensive binoculars recently to go to the races. He had asked for them back twice when he was at the house.

'By the way, Walter, do you have those field glasses I lent you? You told me they were at the office.'

'You came all the way in here to get them back?' Walter's face was a sneer.

'Do you have them, Walter, please?'

'Keep your hair on.' He got up and went to a drawer which he pulled, but it was locked and wouldn't open. 'See, I did my best.' He looked so supercilious and unrepentant that Neil felt his knuckles clenching.

'Lock your drawers in the office as well as your room at home, I see?'

'Can't be too careful, I say,' Walter said cheerfully and picked up the telephone to show the conversation was over.

'Dad, we're going to have to give some thought to Kenneth and the whole set-up there,' Neil said.

'Are we?' Jock Mitchell was disappointed. It was a sunny day, and he had been hoping to slip away from the office in a few momenIs. He had his golf clubs already locked into the boot of the car, and was just waiting until the coast was clear in order to leave.

'Walk down to the car with me, Neil, we'll talk as we go.'

'No, Dad, I want you to write him a letter on your office writing paper.'

'What about?' Jock was testy now. He had carefully organised his clients and his associates into line with his plans; all he needed was to be disturbed by his brother.

Patiently Neil explained that Kenneth Mitchell was in actual danger of losing his children into care. A foster home, or even residential accommodation might be found if he continued to break the terms of the agreement.

'He's not doing that already, surely?'

'Well yes, he is, he's reneging on everything: no homework supervision, forgot pocket money, tried not to let them go back to the Scarlets' on Saturday, Cathy says there's no proper food there at all, they live on crisps, cornflakes and sandwiches.'

'Is Cathy taking too much on, do you think?' Jock asked.

'No, I don't think that at all, and they're trying to take holidays at the time of this wedding when the children are doing a dance, they've been learning the bloody two-hand reel for months.'

'At Lizzie's daughter's wedding?' Jock asked.

'Yes, at my sister-in-law's wedding as it also happens to be, and they're not missing it. Believe me, they are not.'

'Hold your horses, Neil.'

'And that's another thing, that bloody Walter keeps his drawers locked in his office, why's that? He borrowed my binoculars to go and follow the horses six weeks ago and says he can't get them out of his file cupboards.'

'That's nonsense, Neil, everything's on computer these days, you know that. There are no locked drawers here.'

Neil saw his father checking his watch. 'If you dictated the letter now, Dad, and got it signed, then we could all go about our business, whatever that business is.'

Very grudgingly Jock Mitchell took notes and called in a secretary. 'Sorry Linda, my son insists,' he said.

Muttie brought the children back on the bus.

'I don't mind it, honestly. I like the journey, you see, and it makes us independent if we're able to go to and fro on our own without annoying Sara or Cathy or Neil,' he explained to them.

'If you had been a wealthy person would you have had a car, do you think?' Simon asked.

'Indeed I would, I'd have had a big red Beamer.'Muttie smiled at the thought.

'What's that?' Maud wondered.

'It's a BMW. But no, to be honest, I'd probably have had a station wagon, a great big thing half the length of the footpath outside,'Muttie said.

'But there's only the two of you,' Simon objected.

'Ah, but just stop and think of all the people in St Jarlath's Crescent who'd like a lift somewhere,'Muttie said. 'You are very kind,Muttie,' Maud said. 'You really deserve an accumulator,' Simon agreed.

Walter came home on Saturday evening and found that old Barty was still in residence. The introductions were vague. There seemed to be a bottle of good whiskey on the table which was causing his mother some distress.

'Father, don't you think… I mean, weren't we meant to…'

'Nonsense, Kay knows well that she's not drinking and I'm not wandering off, we're here to give you a home.'

His father sounded quite reached already.

'The children will be home soon. They might have their private army with them,' Walter warned.

'That's a good point, let's put this bottle on hold for a while.' Kenneth tucked it away out of sight. 'And Walter, since we have you, if you're going to be out and about I wonder could old Barty have your room? He's in the small room on the stairs, it's rather like a boxroom,' Kenneth began.

'Oh, no, heavens no, I'm just fine where I am,' Barty began to bluster.

'Sorry, Dad. I'll be here for a few days but then I was hoping to go off to England to the races, I'll have my room right for you by then.' He smiled his warm Walter smile. Barty said nonsense, he'd be well gone by then. Kenneth said nonsense, where could Barty go, he'd even lost his beloved car in a card game. Barty said that would all be sorted out soon, he had plenty of chances to win it back. And Walter pulled up a chair at the table with them to discuss how and when… It seemed a subject very dear to his heart.

This time the twins persuaded Muttie to come in and say hallo, very much against his will. But he needn't have worried about being out of place. Kay Mitchell was already in bed, and the three men at the table looked up, mildly and politely interested.

'You've had supper at… um,' Kenneth said.

And as Maud and Simon began to tell about all the extra things they had with their sausages, the flat mushrooms and the filled baked potatoes, Kenneth Mitchell's interest flagged.

'You're so kind to look after them so well,' he said to Muttie, and shook his hand firmly.Muttie opened his hand. A pound coin was there, less than his bus fare home.Muttie's face flushed a dark red, and the colour went right around his neck.

'Thank you very much indeed sir,' he said with great difficulty.

Simon and Maud looked on, stricken. 'See you next Saturday Muttie,' Maud said. 'Thank you for a lovely time.'

'And for paying for the dancing lessons,Muttie, they can't have been cheap,' Simon added.

Muttie was backing out.

'Do you want to see our rooms,Muttie?' Maud asked.

'Another time, Maud, thanks all the same.'

'Or look at the garden where we could have a kennel if Hooves came to stay,' Simon begged.

'Honestly, next visit, Simon, thanks. Good luck to you all,' and he was gone.

The twins had thought they might do the reel tonight at home. They had a tape of the music with them. This would be a new audience. But they noticed a bottle of whiskey had come onto the table, and their father and brother and old Barty wanted to discuss something other than dancing. Everyone was waiting for the children to go to bed, on a bright summer evening when they had been hoping to be up for ages more. With brief goodnights the twins marched grimly upstairs. Mother's door was closed.

They missed sleeping in the same room as they had in St Jarlath's Crescent. Everything was different now.

Cathy said they couldn't possibly take on a sales conference lunch for thirty on the very same day as Freddie Flynn's party.

'It will be dead easy,' Tom pleaded. 'They're slave-drivers these people, no lingering and enjoying themselves for the employees, no drinking and getting messy like a real lunch. They'll be back working in that hall at two-fifteen and we'll be out in half an hour after that.'

'Stop smiling at me like that, Tom Feather, it doesn't work here,' Cathy said. 'We want to do the Flynn thing right, we're being silly taking on something else that might put it at risk.'

'And do we or do we not want to get this business up and running?' he asked.

'We do, but not by beating ourselves down onto our knees.'

'Aw, come on Cathy, I'll do the lunch with June and you and Con keep things ticking over here. We'll be back to you before three. Yes?'

'We're pushing ourselves,' she said.

'Stretching ourselves,' he corrected.

They looked at each other long and hard.

'It's easy money, it's a good contact,' said Tom. In his heart he was thinking that if he cleared a few pounds profit on this he'd take Marcella to one of those fancy hotels for a weekend, a place with a swimming pool and a health centre, a place she could dress up at night.

'We've always said people go under if they take on too much, their standards fall,' Cathy said. She was thinking that she truthfully could barely manage as things were, the nausea was still there, she didn't sleep properly and she still hadn't found or made the time to tell Neil. The Predictor from the chemist had said yes, but people knew they were often wrong, she had an appointment with the doctor next week. It might all be nothing, surely it was too soon to have morning sickness anyway, supposing it were true.

'Let's go to arbitration,' Tom said.

They took out of the drawer in the kitchen table the coin that they always used when they were at an impasse. Solemnly they watched as the coin spun round, and waited until it fell. Tom picked it up.

'So I won, but I promise you'll be glad.'

'Sure I will.' Cathy nailed the smile onto her face.

'Can we come to England with you on a holiday?' Simon stood at the door of Walter's bedroom.

'Of course you can't,' Walter said impatiently.

'But we'll have no holiday then,' Maud said.

'Aren't you back home… and you'll have no school, that's meant to be a holiday, surely?'

'Muttie was going to take us to the country when we were living in St Jarlath's Crescent,' Simon said mutinously.

'You weren't living there, you were only staying there,' Walter complained.

'It felt like living there,' Maud said.

Walter went on packing his case. The twins didn't move.

'Muttie has been to the country a few times, he said you wouldn't want to spend too long there, though,' Maud explained.

'He found it was desperately quiet, and that you could hear birds roaring at you from trees,' Sirnon said wistfully.

'Kids, I'm sorry, I have to get on.'

'Are you going today?' Maud asked, disappointed. It was marginally more lively here when Walter was around.

'Tonight or tomorrow. I have some work to do with Father and Barty.'

'But Father doesn't have any work.' Simon was remorseless about getting things straight.

'Of course he does, Simon,' Walter was annoyed. 'He has meetings and responsibilities.'

'With Barty?' Maud wanted to know.

'Not always, but today, yes.'

'So if Father's out and Mother's going to stay in bed… what will we do?' Simon and Maud looked at each other blankly. There had been so many things to do in St Jarlath's Crescent. And so many people, including Hooves, to do them with.

'You could get a job,' Walter suggested.

'I don't think we're old enough,' Maud said.

'No, doing kids' jobs: stacking shelves, collecting trolleys in a supermarket, tidying someone's garden… those kind of things…' said Walter vaguely, having never attempted any of them.

'We might be able to wash up for Cathy and Tom,' Simon said cheerfully.

'Hard taskmaster, that one,' Walter said.

'Still, it's worth a try,' said Maud.

'Imagine, no more school until September,' Cathy said when she saw the two faces arrive at the premises.

'I don't mind school too much,' Maud said. 'You wouldn't want to say it there, but I don't.'

'No, I didn't either,' Cathy said. I felt I owed it to Geraldine to do well, and I got great pleasure out of getting good resulIs.'

'Why Geraldine?' they asked, and Cathy remembered that the twins produced every single piece of unwanted information at the wrong time. She was meant to have won scholarships, all through. Geraldine's generosity was never mentioned nor even known in Lizzie and Muttie's home.

'I meant she always encouraged me to study for the scholarships, you see.'

'Were you brilliant to have won them?'

'Not bad,' Cathy said modestly, feeling slightly ashamed. She racked her brains to think of something that the twins could do to help, where they wouldn't be in the way and they couldn't do too much harm.

'Polish glasses?' Con suggested.

'No, they'd smear them,' she whispered.

'Chopping anything… ?'

'They're worse than I am, the place would be running with blood. I know, they can shine up the silver and count the forks.'

Maud and Simon were installed in what was eventually going to be called the second kitchen but for now was the storeroom. They chattered on happily; sometimes Cathy leaned against the door and listened. There were bits about Father's business with Barty, and how good Sara was at getting Mrs Barry to do the shopping from a list. Sara knew a place where they could learn tennis, but Father said it cost too much. Whether Muttie would ever come to visit them at their home again after what Father had done. Cathy sighed. She had resented them so much a few short months ago, mainly because she knew they were being passed on by Hannah and Jock. But everything had changed so much. Who could have thought it? Again and again she went over when exactly it must have happened. Neil would be furious. Why did it feel different now? Once it would have been unthinkable to keep something this important from Neil. It was still unthinkable. She would tell him tonight.

Tom and June came back from the sales luncheon in high spirits. Fifty people, all of them as obedient as mice, start eating, continue eating, finish eating, if only the whole world was run like this.

'But how awful to be part of it,' Cathy said, shuddering.

'Ah, but it was so easy, Cath, you've no idea, they'd have eaten a paper plate smeared with jam, believe me.'

'They must have been very hungry,' Maud said, shocked.

'Well hallo, we have help.' Tom was surprised and pleased.

'And great help they are. Tell them you were joking about the paper plates and jam Tom, otherwise they'll tell everyone it's our signature dish.'

'You don't give them enough credit, you know that was a joke, Maud, didn't you?' Tom said.

'I wasn't totally sure,' she admitted.

'Well it was, they'd never eat a paper plate, and what's more they wouldn't have a chance to. Why? Because we'd never serve anything on a paper plate, is that very clear?' He had a mock-ferocious face on. The children nodded furiously. It was clear, they said.

'We've been polishing your good silver,' Simon said.

'You could see your face in the punchbowl,' Maud said proudly.

'Well that's great, because everything we own, all the things we have been saving for are tied up in these four walls.'

'What, everything here is all you have?'

'Yes, our treasures are here, certainly,' Tom agreed.

'Is it all very valuable?' they asked.

June was stacking the dishwasher, and raised her eyes to heaven.

'Well, some of it is irreplaceable, like that punchbowl you just cleaned so beautifully,' Cathy said. I won that at a competition at college, it was first prize for a summer fruit punch, we use it everywhere now.'

'The Flynns don't want it tonight apparently,' Tom said thoughtlessly, after all Maud's hard work. 'Which means we have it ready shining and waiting for the next job, which is just great.'

Maud beamed with pleasure.

'And what's the next most valuable thing?' Simon wondered.

Tom, Cathy and June joked about whether it was the disk on the computer with all the recipes, the book of contacts, the double oven, or the chest freezer… They laughed as they listed all the things they had.

'We never thought we'd own such a huge amount of stuff,' Cathy said.

'Like Muttie thinks he'll never win an accumulator,' Simon said, eager to show he was on her wavelength.

'But he never will, Simon,' Cathy implored.

'People may well have said to you and Tom… that you'd never have any treasures,' Simon was fierce in his defence of Muttie's dreams.

'We worked for it, night after long night…' Cathy said.

'Muttie works at the bookmakers', he studies it, he learns about form and he lets the sound of hooves get in on his brain.'

'Of course he does,' Tom said gently.

'Are you insured, in case anyone came in and took all your treasures?' Maud worried.

Cathy made yet another resolution not to go down any road like this again with the children. 'Very well insured. James Byrne is like a clucking hen,' Cathy reassured her.

'What Cathy means is that James isn't remotely like a clucking hen: he is a marvellous man who made us take out a very big insurance policy.'

The twins seemed reasonably pleased with this, but Simon had one more worry. 'Do you lock up properly when you leave?' he wanted to know.

'Yes Simon, two locks, an alarm with a code and all.'

'And do you remember the code?'

'We had to make it simple for Tom,' Cathy said.

'Men find it hard to take complicated things on board,' June agreed.

'Do you have your birthday?' Simon asked. 'Or your lucky number?'

'No, they told us not to,' Tom said.

'So we have the two initials of Scarlet Feather instead.'

'Are you allowed to have letters?'

'No, the numbers, S is nineteen and F is six. If we forget, all we have to do is go through the alphabet. Even men can understand that, Simon.'

'I don't think that men are any more stupid than the rest of people, really,' Simon said thoughtfully.

'No, Simon,' Tom was contrite.

They agreed to drive the children back to The Beeches, since it was on the way to Freddie Flynn's house. Solemnly Simon and Maud watched as the alarm code was set.

'Brilliant idea,' Simon said.

'No one would ever think of that,' Maud agreed.

'Imagine, we're travelling with all the food for a posh party.' Simon was pleased.

'Yes, and all those nice shiny forks you polished as well.'

'Why do they not have knives?'

'Good question. They claim to have all the cutlery we need, but people never have enough forks. I went and checked; they don't have nearly enough forks.'

'You need to be quite intelligent for this work, don't you,' Simon said.

'You do,' said Tom as he counted and completed a checklist. 'It's all there, Cathy, ready to roll.'

'Okay Tom, okay June, ceremony of the keys.'

Simon and Maud watched fascinated as they hung the keys to the premises carefully on a hidden hook at the back of the van. 'Why do you put them there?' they asked.

'Whichever of us takes the van back needs to be able to open the place up, so we always have the ceremony of the keys…' Cathy explained.

They had arrived at the Beeches. The two children ran into the big house with the huge overgrown garden.

'Looks like a posh place,' June said.

'Yeah,' Cathy said, 'posh, dead sort of place.'

'They have to be with their own parents, their natural parents. Don't they?' Tom asked.

'To be honest, I've never exactly seen why,' Cathy said, and put the van into gear with a crash as they drove off.

Freddie Flynn was most welcoming when they got there. 'Now I know the drill, your aunt says you hate people saying to you this is the kitchen, this is the hot tap, this is the cold tap…'

'You wouldn't ever do that, Mr Flynn,' Cathy smiled up at him from under her eyelashes.

Tom let out a low whistle between his teeth when he'd gone. 'And you say that I put on the charm for the ladies… I never saw anything like that performance,' he teased her.

'I promised Auntie Geraldine he'd get the full treatment,' she whispered.

'Yeah, well.'

At that moment Freddie's small, plump wife Pauline came in. 'Freddie says I'm not to fuss, and I promise I won't, but somehow it seems like cheating to let you do it all,' she said.

Cathy felt a lump in her throat. This woman was being deceived by Frederick Flynn, important Dublin businessman, purchaser of diamond watches for Cathy's aunt. 'Not a bit of it, Mrs Flynn, you and people like you are providing Tom and myself with a generous living, we want to make it a huge success. Now your husband tells me you don't want anyone to take the coats. Have I got that right?'

'Yes, after all it is the summer, so they won't have that many coats… But you see, we got the upstairs all decorated, and I sort of hoped they might go up and see it so that I could show it off.'

'You are so right, let me see where I'm to direct them.' Cathy ran lightly up the stairs ahead of Pauline Flynn, and saw the magnificent bedroom which had been spoken of. It was in beautiful shades of pale green and blue, and there was an elegant white dressing table. It wasn't exactly a four-poster bed, but there was a ring with cascading curtains over the top; a white crochet bedspread and lace-trimmed pillowcases; doors opened on to a huge, luxurious bathroom with white fluffy towels alternating with others in baby blue. This place had all the appearance of an altar built to the god of pleasure. Cathy held her hand to her throat. Geraldine could not possibly know that Freddie's dead marriage involved this kind of decoration.

'Lovely room,' she said in a slightly strangled voice to Pauline Flynn.

'I'm glad you like it; I'm old and silly I know, but it's what I always wanted and Freddie seems to think it's nice too, and that's what pleases me most of all.'

Cathy ran downstairs quickly.

'Hallo Walter,' the twins were surprised. They thought he would have gone to England by now.

'Hallo,' Walter grunted.

'How was the business?'

'What business?'

'You said you were having a business meeting with Father and Barty.'

'Oh yes, I bloody was.'

'So it didn't work?' Simon was philosophical. 'Muttie always says that you win some, you lose some.'

'What does Muttie know about anything?' Walter asked.

'A fair bit,' Maud said. 'I think,' she added doubtfully.

There was a silence. 'We got a job like you said,' Simon said eventually.

'Good for you. Where?'

'With Cathy and Tom… They have a fortune in their premises, it's full of their treasures.' Simon wanted to impress his older brother.

I'm sure,' Walter laughed.

'No, they do, all their worldly goods are there, they have two keys and a code lock in case anyone gets in.'

'Oh yeah, I bet the whole world is trying to get in there and steal catering plates and paper napkins,' Walter laughed.

'They have a solid-silver punchbowl, it's beyond price. They have loads of things,' Maud said.

I'm sure it's very impressive, but do you mind moving off for a bit, I've a lot to think about now.'

'Okay,' Simon and Maud were good-tempered.

'And you're not whining for food or anything.'

'No. Cathy gave us something for the microwave.'

'What is it?' Walter asked with interest.

'Pasta. It will take four minutes on high,' said Maud. 'Do you want some? There's plenty for the three of us.'

'Thanks.' Walter was gruff.

They sat at the table, the three of them, Walter's mind a million miles away as the twins talked on happily about the party that Tom and Cathy were doing that night.

'They have money to burn, the Flynns do,' Maud said.

'I don't think they really are going to burn it though, I think it's only an expression that people use,' Simon explained.

'Yes, whatever.' She brought Walter into the conversation. 'Do you think we should get a burglar alarm here, Walter?'

'Nothing for a burglar to break in here for,' he said glumly.

'We could set it before we went out and disarm it when we got back.' Maud didn't want to let the notion go entirely.

'Yeah, can you see Mother and Father doing that? Can you see Barty coming to terms with disarming an alarm? It would be like a cops and robbers movie. We'd have the guards living here all the time.'

'But it's so simple,' Simon said. 'We know how to get into Cathy and Tom's premises just after seeing it once.'

'Sure, but do you have the keys?' Walter took his plate across the kitchen to the sink.

'No, but we know where they are,' Maud said.

Walter came back and sat down with them again.

The party up at the Flynns' was going very well. Twice Freddie put his head around the kitchen door to congratulate them.

'They're just loving it all,' he said. 'Well done.'

'Why is a nice man like that unable to look me in the eye and tell me he needs me to be a significant part of his life?' June wondered.

'Hard to know all right,' said Cathy as she piped out more creme fraiche on the little buckwheat pancakes that were disappearing with alarming speed from the platters.

'You'd never think that a woman like Mrs Flynn would be enough for him,' June said as she swept off with the new tray.

Tom and Cathy's eyes met. 'Funny old life, Tom, that's what I always say,' she grinned at him.

'Women are just riddled with intuition, Cathy, that's what always say,' Tom replied.

Walter looked up the Flynns' address in the phonebook. It wasn't far away. He had been able to get the loan of a car from a night-owl friend for a few hours. He parked it beside the van and found the keys exactly where the twins had said. Through the windows he saw them all, Tom, Cathy, June and that creep Con moving about inside.

Geraldine moved restlessly around her apartment in Glenstar. Normally she never felt like this. She had been truthful in saying that she believed Freddie's private life was just that… private, and no concern of hers. It was just that… well, she hadn't planned to do anything tonight. She had taken work back to the apartment but she didn't feel like doing it, and there was nothing she wanted to see on television. In a million years she would not admit it, not even to herself. Geraldine was lonely. Then her telephone rang.

'I miss you,' he said.

She forced her voice to be bright. 'And I you. How's it going?'

'Fantastic. They're very talented, those kids, it's running like clockwork.'

'I'm so pleased for you, Freddie, truly I am.'

He hung up. A stolen moment away from his guests, his wife. It had always been like this, and this is what it was always going to be like from now on. So why was she complaining? Geraldine had known the score when she signed up.

Wearing black cotton gloves, Walter let himself in and used the code to disarm the alarm. Where were all these treasures the kids had talked about? He must be quick; he needed to get the stuff hidden in his garden shed, the key back into the van and the truck back to the friend who would be starting his evening at around ten p.m. It looked like it had always looked, a big ugly catering kitchen, a lot of stainless steel, coloured tea towels drying on the backs of chairs, shelves of inexpensive china, drawers of worthless cutlery. He pulled out possible items like a toaster, an electric grill, a microwave oven. But these things were peanuts. They wouldn't bring him a fraction of the money he needed. The money he had lost with that fool friend of his father's, old Barty, who knew a great game and had brought Walter along. On the table in the front room, he saw the big silver punchbowl the children had spoken of. It wasn't solid silver at all, and he pushed it aside in disgust. There were boxes of supplies, unopened steamers and saucepans in the storeroom; they might make something if he could just unload them on the right person. And he needed something, even if he got a couple of hundred quid it would be a start. He began to drag the items towards the front of the premises, and knocked over a tray of glasses as he did so. The splinters of broken glass were everywhere. They wouldn't like that when they got back. Something welled up in him, and he swooped an entire shelf of plates onto the floor as well. It was somehow satisfying. He would do more later.

He worked for forty minutes, unscrewing and transporting what might possibly change hands in an iffy market he knew about. Then, with his elbow, he raised the end of one of the china shelves so that all its contenIs went in a great crashing slide to the floor. He pulled out the plug of the freezer and tossed items out of it at random. He noticed with annoyance that they had a very poor stock of alcohol, and remembered that they usually arranged for a wine merchant to deliver straight to the venue. Still, there was a bottle of brandy and some other off-looking liqueurs; it would keep the guy who owned the car cheerful. He remembered one day how they had been going on and on for ever about what message to leave on the answering machine, so he wrenched it from the wall and stood on it. He hit the light bulbs with a stick and leaped aside as the shattered glass came tumbling down. He packed the car, taking the punchbowl at the last moment. He might get £20 for it anyway, and these days that couldn't be laughed off. What fools to tell the children that these things were treasure! They were so bloody smug, those two. This would show them.