Chapter Ten

OCTOBER

Simon and Maud discussed telephoning Muttie and his wife Lizzie. If they really had sent a five-pound note that went astray, then they might not be as hostile as everyone else. They got Lizzie on the phone; she was cagey about Muttie's whereabouts, he had gone away for a day or two. This was puzzling.Muttie never went away anywhere. And what about the birthday treat?

'He's not refusing to talk to us or anything?' Maud asked. 'Child, aren't you the most extraordinary little thing, why would he do that?' Lizzie said. It sounded reassuring, but it wasn't a yes or a no.

Simon thanked her for the five-pound note. It was very kind of you, it's made a lot of difference,' he said.

Lizzie said they must be thinking of the wrong people; she and Muttie had sent no fiver. They explained how it had got lost in the post, and how Cathy had taken one from her handbag.

'Ah, there must have been some mistake.'

'I'm sorry, Lizzie,' Simon said politely. 'Do you know when Muttie will be back?'

She sounded guarded. 'Hard to say, a day or two I think.'

'She's lying,' Maud said afterwards.

'Muttie never goes anywhere…'

'Except the races.'

Muttie Scarlet had spent a night in hospital… an embarrassing matter of his private parIs being examined by young doctors and unmentionable things being put into them. He wanted it neither discussed nor known. Lizzie was under strict instructions to say that he was away on business. He came home to find all hell had broken loose. The twins had disappeared. Sara, their social worker, was going mad and interrogating Lizzie. Poor Lizzie was going over every word of the conversation.

'I didn't know they were contemplating anything like this… How was I meant to be inspired? They always said they were fine, I thought they were tired of coming here… They didn't sound upset at all, they were full of old rubbish, thanking me for a fiver that we never sent them.'

It had been an endless day, with people going back over things, fruitlessly examining the note left in the kennel: 'We have taken Hooves with us.' It seemed somehow a very bleak little letter, giving no information, not even a hint of where they were heading. A search of possible places led nowhere: friends at school could reveal nothing. Kenneth had pulled himself together sharply and revealed with every sentence he spoke how little he knew of the life that went on at The Beeches. There seemed to be no trace of Walter. He had not shown up at work, so it was quite possible that the twins were with him. Kay, now frightened into sobriety by the amount of activity in the house said no, that Walter had left earlier, in a taxi with a lot of black bags. But since she was not considered a reliable witness, nobody took much notice of this memory. By the time the guards had been called and Maud and Simon were officially declared missing,Muttie had alerted many of his associates who said they would help to search for the children, who must have been in the neighbourhood of St Jarlath's Crescent at any time after ten p.m. when Lizzie went to bed. Neighbours who knew the children were drafted in. Every time the phone rang, everyone in St Jarlath's Crescent jumped. This time it was Cathy - she was on her way over to them.Muttie relaxed for the first time that day. Cathy would get it sorted.

'I have to go over there,' Cathy said. 'Go straight away, take the van.' 'Could you ring Marcella?' she said, too casually. 'What?' he sounded shocked.

'I've written down her number here, she's waiting by the phone.' 'Thanks, but I'll pass on that.' 'She was crying, Tom, I said I'd do my best.'

'And you have.' He was cold.

'I can't leave her standing in a phone box waiting for you to ring,' Cathy begged.

'Thanks, Cathy, take the keys and stop worrying. They'll turn up, those two, with some amazing explanation.'

In the middle of a street in London, Tom, she deserves more than that.'

He turned away. Cathy dialled the number.

'Tom!' The excitement in Marcella's voice was almost hurtful to hear.

'No, Marcella, I'm sorry, it's Cathy again. I told him, and he's not going to phone you. No, I don't know why, but I didn't want you standing there waiting.'

There was a silence. 'Why won't he even talk?' Marcella sobbed.

I'm so very sorry,' Cathy said, and she hung up and left the premises without even catching Tom's eye.

'It's all my fault, I was so short with poor little Maud,' Cathy wept at the kitchen table. 'I kept saying things like Hurry up, and If that's all, Maud…' Everyone was startled. This wasn't the Cathy they knew. Lizzie, Geraldine,Muttie and Sara all looked at each other helplessly. 'And the awful thing is that she was being so kind, she was trying to get me a punchbowl from the shed and she didn't even realise that it was stolen by her little shit of a brother.'

'Simon?'Muttie asked, totally bewildered.

'No, Walter, he has a shed full of things from our premises, I gather.'

Sara looked up sharply. 'You think Walter was your burglar?'

'Yes, he must have been. Maybe this has something to do with the children running away,' she said anxiously.

'Have you reported any of this? Does Neil know?'

'No, I only heard yesterday or the day before, and I've been up to my tonsils in a wedding in the country.'

Sara seemed to think this was odd. 'But if you thought that, surely you'd have told Neil?'

Cathy took no notice of her disapproving tone. 'Did you say that Walter has gone from The Beeches?'

'Yes, his mother thinks he went last night in a taxi… carrying a lot of bags,' Sara said somewhat doubtfully.

Then suddenly Sara and Cathy looked at each other as the implication became clear. Sara took out her mobile phone and called the guards again.

At The Beeches, Kenneth and Kay waited for the guards to arrive. There was no news, but the guards needed to look in the garden shed and in Mr Walter Mitchell's bedroom. They said that Ms Cathy Scarlet would be joining them shortly.

'What does she want?' Kenneth asked.

'She is the daughter of the couple whose house the twins visited last night to collect their dog.'

'They don't have a dog,' Kay said.

'They think they do, madam, and Ms Scarlet is also married to your nephew, so could be considered family. I believe her husband is also joining her here.'

'Huh,' Kenneth said.

'Mr Neil Mitchell is a barrister, sir; if you have any objection to our looking though the house, please state it now.'

'And what would you do if I objected?' Kenneth asked.

'We'd get a search warrant,' the young guard said simply.

I'm not saying he did steal the things, I'm only saying it's a pretty odd coincidence,' Cathy said to Neil as they drove to The Beeches.

'We must be very careful not to go in hurling accusations,' Neil warned. 'Dad did tell me that he nicked a computer from work and didn't turn up today, so it looks as if you're right, but…'

'And your drinky aunt thinks she heard him leaving with a lot of black plastic bags in a taxi last night…'

'I know. And if he took them, Cathy, no mercy, you understand?'

'No, I don't believe you, in the end you'll say he was a victim, he deserves our concern.'

'What have I done, hon? Why are you fighting with me? Neil asked, aggrieved.

'I don't know, Neil, I really don't. I want to kill Walter and I want to kill myself. If I had only been just a bit nicer, those two foolish children wouldn't have run away.'

'You're working too hard. You just didn't have the time,' he said.

'No, Neil, I just didn't make the time, that's different.'

'But I have a surprise for you. I wasn't going to tell you before, but I think you need it now.'

'A surprise?' she looked at him warily.

'You are very tired, hon. I talked to Tom about it; he can spare you, he says, and I've booked us a week in Morocco!'

He waited to see her pleasure, but he was disappointed. 'Neil, it's kind of you, but no.'

'It's booked!' he said.

'I can't think of anything now except those children, and I don't really want to go away at all, we're too busy.'

'Tom said…'

'Tom is a kind man, he says what he thinks people want him to say. Most of the time,' she added, thinking of Marcella weeping down the phone. 'Can we talk about it another time, Neil?'

'Whenever you feel you'd like to give the time,' he said huffily.

'Well, not now, when we're worried sick about the kids.'

'Not any time, Cathy. There's no time to talk to you these days, and no way of talking to you, either.'

'I don't know what you mean.'

His face was very hard.

'If I talk about the miscarriage, I'm saying the wrong thing and upsetting you. If I don't talk about it I'm hard and unfeeling and I've forgotten it.'

'It's not like that.'

'Well, that's the way it looks from here. And when I do something, get us away from here for a bit of peace…'

'It's not peace trekking through Morocco seeing would I like Africa

'Oh, shut up, Cathy, there's no pleasing you. If I suggested a holiday on the Isle of Man you wouldn't want it either.' His face was set in a look she hadn't known before. He was very, very angry.

She spoke slowly. 'I would be perfectly happy to go on holiday but only if we discuss it, not when you tell me you've booked something…'

'Don't worry, a holiday with you is the last thing on my mind,' he said and they drove to The Beeches in silence.

The punchbowl was gone when the guards searched the shed, but there were a lot of other things that they asked Cathy to look at. At first she thought that she could see nothing that belonged to them. Then she saw some salad servers and a linen tablecloth.

'The salad servers were a present from Neil's parents last Christmas, the cloth has our laundry mark on it,' she said in a small, flat voice.

Neil nodded gravely. The guards seemed entirely convinced. It would nail Walter when they found him.

Neil's father made a statement to the guards about the missing computer. 'And I want you to know that nephew or no nephew, we intend to go the distance on this one.'

They nodded, satisfied. 'Do you have any explanation of why he might have taken the children, sir?' The guards had long decided that there was little future in talking to the children's parents. They had higher hopes of Jock Mitchell, who seemed normal and articulate and capable of understanding that two nine-year-olds had left a note and vanished from their home.

'I can't understand it at all,' Jock Mitchell said. 'He never mentioned them at all, and if I ever asked about them he was vague, as if he really didn't know anything.'

'He didn't know they were there,' Cathy said. 'He never took them with him, I know that much for a fact. He high-tailed it out of here on his own because he thought we were onto him.'

'But it's too much of a coincidence that they should all go on the same day,' Neil argued.

'Neil, you never listened to him. I swear they didn't figure in his life, he didn't kidnap them or take them as hostages or anything.'

'I say,' Kenneth said disapprovingly, as if this kind of chat was going too far. They all looked at him, waiting to know what he was going to say. But he said nothing. 'Sorry,' he said eventually.

'They could still get in touch,' said Jock hopefully.

'But who would they ring?' Cathy asked. 'That's the thing that's breaking my heart, they rang everyone, and none of us listened.'

'They could be anywhere,'Muttie wailed.

'They're only nine, people will look at two kids and a dog and question them. And they're so distinctive, the guards will find them in no time,' Geraldine soothed them as best she could.

'No, the guards haven't a clue where they are, they keep asking us to think of likely places and known companions, and none of us knows anything about their lives, poor little devils. Why couldn't they have left them here with us instead of transplanting them to The Beeches?'

'They had to go,' Lizzie said because she believed it.

'And didn't they do really fine there,'Muttie scoffed. 'They did so fine that they ended up having to run away, come here by dead of night and take Hooves and head off the Lord knows where.'

'Do you remember them at Marian's wedding, they were so proud of themselves,' Lizzie said.

'And their speeches,' said Muttie, blowing his nose heavily.

'Oh, they're not dead for God's sake!' Geraldine said. 'Really and truly Lizzie, get a hold of yourself, those two are well able to look after themselves.'

'No, they're not, they're real babies,' Lizzie said.

'Wherever they are now, they're terrified,' said Muttie.

Tom was restless. He could settle to nothing. The idea of Marcella on a London street crying in a phone box wouldn't go away. He had been right not to speak to her; there were no more words to be said, only a circular argument going nowhere. But he wished that she hadn't called, she must have been desperate, particularly to admit it and plead with Cathy. Marcella was always so anxious to preserve an image of herself as confident. If he had answered the phone himself, would it have been different? Perhaps he could have said in his own normal voice that it hurt him too much to talk about what could not be changed. Then she might not have been left crying in a phone box. He could concentrate on nothing because of that image. He decided to go and see his parents. JT and Maura Feather were sitting at the kitchen table playing three-handed bridge with Joe. Joe looked as if a wall had fallen on him, his left eye was closed, his lip was swollen and part of his head had been shaved where he had stitches.

'Jesus!' said Tom.

'Wasn't it dreadful?' Maura Feather said. 'Poor Joe reversed into a wall, and it was the direct intervention of God that he didn't do himself any serious damage.'

Tom looked at the injuries which were obviously not the result of reversing into a wall.

'Was it the right wall?' he asked.

'Yes, it was,' Joe nodded painfully.

'And what happens now?' Tom asked.

'Bills are going to be paid,' Joe said with satisfaction.

'At some cost, though?' Tom looked at this brother's injuries sympathetically.

'No cost at all, considering,' Joe said.

And Tom realised that Joe the businessman had suffered much more by being cheated than he had in a fist fight. His street cred was now restored, and to Joe that meant the injuries were irrelevant. His father frowned as if the conversation should change channels. So Tom told them that the twins had run away, and nobody knew where to start looking for them.

'Those two would be well able to speak up for themselves, aren't they Mitchells when all's said and done,' Maura sniffed.

I'm worried about them, Mam, they're very odd, quaint kind of children, they take everything literally, anything could happen to them.'

'And tell me, is Marcella still on her holiday in London?' Maura asked.

'It's not a holiday, Mam, I told you that she's got contacts there and she wants to be a model, so she has to be in London for that.'

'And is it going well for her over there?' JT Feather asked kindly.

'I think so, Dad, I hear she's doing fine.'

'That's funny,' Joe said, 'I hear the very opposite.'

'No word?' Tom asked.

Cathy shook her head. 'No, and that's two nights out on their own somewhere; it's serious, and they all think that Walter has something to do with it, which is utter nonsense.'

'They'd only slow him down,' Tom agreed.

'It's some damn thing that they took literally, you know, like they thought that I was coming to see them on the night of the wedding, apparently I said, "after the wedding", I didn't mean that very day.'

'Would Muttie have said anything to upset them?'

'No; he was so embarrassed about having to go to hospital with his prostate, he hasn't said anything to anyone for days.'

They went through all the things it could be; some dancing engagement they thought they had got, some school project - a quest to find another punchbowl? Those two were so strange, they could have flown to Chicago. They jointed chickens and made sauces as they talked about the children. They never got around to mentioning the hunt for the man who had stolen their belongings and vandalised their premises. Or indeed, the confusion of spending a night, however innocently, in the same room. And just because that night wasn't mentioned, it seemed to take on a greater significance. The fact that Tom had lied to Neil on the phone. The knowledge that it had been seen and completely misconstrued by the hotel. It could easily have been one of the many things they laughed about, but because of the children they lost the moment, and now it was too late to go back to it.

Walter's friend Derek with the sports car wouldn't let him stay. 'You're too much trouble, Walter, and now you say the law is after you, I can't afford to have any policemen poking round this flat.' There was a fair chance they might find cocaine if they did, and black sacks of goods from the shed at The Beeches.

'Can I leave the stuff?'

'No, you can't… Take it up to the market,' Derek advised. 'You can unload it there in no time.'

For peanuts.'

'Well, take the peanuts then and put them on a horse, then you're in the clear,' said Derek, who wanted Walter Mitchell miles from here.

Sara was tireless in her efforts to find them; she reread her notes over and over in case they might offer a clue. She came round to Waterview to ask Neil and Cathy what kind of interests the twins had.

'Well, they loved that dog, which is why they went and took him,' Cathy said.

'When they were here, what did they do in the evening?'

'We used to make them do homework for a bit, and they liked jigsaws… I don't know what else, Neil, do you?'

'Not really, they kept asking questions all the time… How much do you earn, how often do you mate.'

'Sara, nobody could have murdered them or anything?' Cathy's face was very anxious.

'She's very overwrought,' Neil said. 'Honestly, Cathy, you can't go on like this.'

'No, of course not,' said Sara, but her voice was shaky.

Cathy's eyes filled up and, unexpectedly, she leaned over and patted Sara on the arm.

'They'll be fine, they're a real pair of survivors, those two,' she said, consoling the white-faced social worker.

'Well, you'll be glad of the holiday,' Sara said.

'Holiday?'

Neil interrupted quite quickly. 'That's postponed now,' he said.

Cathy was annoyed. He should not have told Sara all about the holiday as if it were settled before he had checked it with her. It wasn't important now, but it was very, very irritating all the same.

Geraldine couldn't settle down to work, thinking about the twins. There were two important jobs on hand, and her upcoming date with Nick Ryan. But the strange, troubled, pale faces of those children wouldn't go out of her mind. They had been so funny in her flat on the day of the recovery party, doing their encore because they thought people would expect it. She had kept cheering the others up, and mocking them for fearing the worst. But in her heart she was very worried. Two odd, unworldly children, and you heard the most awful things. Every day in the papers there was some horror. Geraldine shook herself firmly. She had a rule to stop herself brooding about things. When you can, you must concentrate feverishly on work, and if that doesn't work, concentrate feverishly on sex and social life. Geraldine and Nick Ryan were planning an evening which was going to involve his staying over at Glenstar. Both of them knew this, though neither of them had mentioned it. It was an elaborate ritual about the difficulty of finding somewhere they would like for a late dinner after the theatre. There were endless problems. Places to park, driving after a couple of glasses of wine, noisy people at other tables when you were trying to talk. Possibly they could bring some smoked salmon back to Geraldine's apartment. Indeed, what a good idea, and she had some of Tom Feather's wonderful bread in the freezer. And Nick would love to bring a bottle of wine. And did Nick have to leave at any specific time after the meal? Not at all, the night was his own, her own, their own. It was set up. The affair had begun.

Muttie went in just from sheer habit to Sandy Keane in the betting shop. 'Don't feel like having a bet today, my mind's distracted,' he said.

'Suit yourself,Muttie, but that was a nice little windfall you got yesterday,' Sandy said dourly.

'Yesterday, I didn't have a bet yesterday, I was preoccupied,' said Muttie.

'Internet Dream,' said Sandy.

'Never heard of it,'Muttie shrugged.

'Well, you won seventy pounds on it yesterday morning, which is good for a horse you never heard of,' Sandy said.

'Is one of us losing our minds, I wasn't near here yesterday.'

'I know,Muttie, they told me.'

'Who told you?'

'The twins,' said Sandy.

'Oh, my God, what time?'

'First race at Wincanton,' Sandy said.

'Can I have your phone? I must ring the guards.'

'You're going to bring the guards in here and tell them that I took a bet from minors? You're off your head,Muttie.'

'They won't be interested in that.'

'They won't like hell!'

'No, Sandy.'Muttie had begun to dial. 'You don't understand. The guards are out looking everywhere for these children. They've been missing for two days.'

It didn't in fact bring them very much further down the line. So the children had hung around the St Jarlath's Crescent area for the night with the dog, until the bookies' was open for bets.

'I feel a bit better that they had seventy pounds rather than just a fiver,' said Cathy.

'But it does mean they can stay away longer, like now they won't have to come home out of desperation,'Muttie said, biting his lip.

The hunt centred much more around St Jarlath's Crescent than The Beeches. This is where the children had been happiest, where they had collected Hooves and written their last note. Lizzie looked through the pictures she had of Maud and Simon. The guards had asked for a recent picture, which they would use if there was no news by tomorrow. They had obviously given up on the notion of getting anything helpful from Kenneth and Kay. Lizzie took out a big box; there were some lovely ones of them from Marian's wedding. But maybe they should use the one of the twins with Hooves. She must not let herself think that anything had happened to them. This was Ireland, not some dangerous place; nothing bad could happen to them here.

'I mean, nobody would hurt children, or anything?' she asked the guard fearfully as she showed him an endearing picture of Maud and Simon in their kilts outside the church at the wedding.

The guard looked at the two serious little faces and cleared his throat. He hated cases about children. 'We have to hope not, Mrs Scarlet.'

She had seen in his face the possibility that it might not end well, and the tears came down her face again. 'You see, you'd really have to know them to realise that they're such an odd little pair, not in the real world at all. They just get notions and follow them anywhere.'

'And would they trust strangers, do you think?' The big guard gave Lizzie a paper handkerchief.

'Of course they would, they'd go off with Jack the Ripper if he came to the door with a plan.' She put her head down on the table and wept aloud.

Muttie came and patted her shoulder awkwardly. If we could just think what mad thought was going through their little minds the moment they took off, then we'd find them in no time,' he said, shaking his head again and again.

All over Dublin people were trying to think what might have been going through their minds. To little avail. Maud and Simon, left so long surviving in a strange, troubled and changing lifestyle, had invented a little world of their own where no one could follow them.

'You know it will all be so obvious when we find them,' Cathy said to Neil.

' If we find them,' he said.

'Come on, you don't mean it. Why say something so frightening?'

'I'm only saying what the guards are saying, they don't like it at all,' he said.

The twins had no idea of the drama they had created. To them it had been utterly simple.Muttie had promised to take them to the races for their birthday. To hear the real thunder of hooves. That's where he had gone, to the country, to the races, and his wife Lizzie didn't want to admit it. And so they made their plans. They would go to the races and confront Muttie. Ask him straight out what they had done to annoy him. They had five pounds and eighty-three pence. It was a lot of money, but would it take them the hundred miles to County Kilkenny? They stayed up all night discussing it. There was nobody to object. Father was out with old Barty, Mother didn't get up these days at all and Walter had left home. They packed a plastic carrier bag each to take with them, extra shoes, a big sweater, pyjamas, a pot of jam, a loaf of bread and two slices of ham. There was an animated discussion about soap. Simon thought there might be soap already wherever they were going;

Maud said that since they were going to be sleeping in sheds and barns and in fields it might be mad to think there'd be any soap in those places. They took a small piece, just in case. Then shortly after dawn when the first bus passed the end of the road the twins ate into their savings and made their way to St Jarlath's Crescent. They weren't leaving without Hooves. Five pounds wouldn't take them to Kilkenny.

'What do people do when they need money desperately?' Maud wondered.

'They earn some or they steal, or they win the Lotto.'

'The Lotto isn't until Saturday,' Maud said.

'There's Muttie's office,' said Simon.

After that it had all been simple. They studied the paper for a long time before they went in, and they wrote out a slip of paper. Mr Keane knew them well.

'How's tricks?' he said, as he always did.

They told him tricks were great and placed the bet. Two pounds to win on a horse called Internet Dream.

'I break every rule in the book for the pair of you,' said Mr Keane. 'I let minors into my establishment and a small four-footed beast as well.'

'Muttie asked us to put it on for him.'

'Where's the man himself, he wasn't in yesterday either.'

They had planned for this one, too. They couldn't say he had gone to Gowran Park race meeting in Kilkenny, otherwise he should be putting on his own bets there.

'He has a whole lot of tiring things to do for his wife Lizzie today, so he asked us to put the bet on for him,' Simon said.

Sandy Keane nodded; this seemed entirely reasonable.

'And may we wait here to bring his winnings back to him?' Maud asked politely. 'Would you mind waiting outside, you're too young to be seen in here, strictly speaking.'

'It's cold outside, Mr Keane.'

'All right, but sit somewhere out of sight.'

They sat as quiet as mice until the race. Internet Dream won at thirty-five to one and they had their fare to Kilkenny. Hooves loved the train journey; he socialised with some of the other passengers by laying his head in their laps, and they seemed delighted with him.

'What will we do if he wants to pee?' Maud whispered.

'What do other people do with dogs on trains?' Simon whispered.

They looked around them. Nobody else had a dog.

'Maybe he'll know you can't go on a train,' Maud said optimistically. Hooves saw a nice leather briefcase and was about to relieve himself against it. Simon and Maud jumped up horrified and alerted the owner of the briefcase, who was reading a newspaper.

'Could you take it away? He thinks it's a lamp-post.'

'Easy mistake, often made,' the man said.

'Where should I take him? I can't hold him out the window,' Simon asked.

'Just out there where the two carriages sort of join, and look away as if you have nothing to do with it,' the man advised.

They came back and sat down to talk to him since he was so pleasant, and told him that they were going to the races.

'Aren't you a bit young to be going on your own?' he said. 

'We'll be meeting a grown-up there, of course,' Simon said.

'Is that your Dad?'

'Yes,' said Simon.

'No,' said Maud at the same time.

'Sort of stepfather, foster father really.'

'And does he have any tips for today?'

'No, but he'll have been studying form all morning,' Maud explained.

'Great. The important thing is to feel lucky.'

'We've been quite lucky already today, we had Internet Dream,' Simon said proudly.

The man looked at him with more interest. 'You had? What odds?'

'Thirty-five to one,' Maud said.

'Well, maybe I should stick with the pair of you. How did you pick Internet Dream, anyway?'

'The name,' said Simon, as if it were self-evident.

'And who put the bet on for you?'

'We did it ourselves.'

'By God, I'll certainly stay with you, you could be the making of me,' said the man; who said his name was Jim, known to his friends as Unlucky Jim, and he'd be taking a taxi to the races if they'd like a lift.

'Thank you very much, Unlucky,' Maud said. 'But you know, all this business about not going in cars with strangers…'

'And we think there's going to be a bus to the racecourse anyway,' Simon said.

'Perhaps Unlucky could come on the bus with us?' Maud didn't want to let him go, they might need him to help them find Muttie.

'I don't think his name is Unlucky, I think it's Jim,' Simon whispered.

'Which is it?' Maud wanted a ruling.

'I think for a day at the races it had better be Jim,' the man said, bewildered.

Unlucky Jim came on the bus with them to the races. 'Where are you meeting your father?' he asked.

'Father?' Maud said alarmed.

'Muttie,' Simon hissed.

'Oh, just round and about, he'll be looking out for us.'

They realised that they must lose Unlucky Jim now. He was asking questions that were hard to answer.

'I think we'll take Hooves for a bit of a stroll before we go in,' Maud said.

'In case he tries to pee on someone else's briefcase,' Simon said.

'Have you the price of getting in?' Jim asked.

'Of course we do, we have a fortune,' Maud explained.

'You've been very good company. I wonder, would you let me buy you a drink after the third race, the bar beside the Tote? Your father too, if you've made contact.'

'We will, of course,' said Simon, as if at the age of nine he were used to travelling down the east coast of Ireland in a train and being invited to have a drink in the bar near the Tote.

Simon and Maud searched everywhere for Muttie, but with no success. They went in and out of bars, they stood near the winning post for one of the races, they went to the parade ring. If Muttie were here, then surely this is where he'd be. After the third race they went to meet Unlucky Jim.

'Did you have any winners?' they asked.

'What do you think? I'm here depending on you both.'

'We haven't studied form yet,' Maud said.

'And what about your da, did he come up with anything?'

'Not really,' Simon said.

They decided they would pretend they had met Muttie; people hated it if they thought you were on your own and lost or something. Better let people think they were being looked after.

'Where is he now?'

'He said he might drop in.'

'What do you fancy in the next one?' Jim asked.

'We're not experts, Jim,' Maud admitted.

'Well, you couldn't do worse than I've done.'

They looked at the race card carefully. 'Lucky Child,' said Maud.

Jim peered at it for a while. It hasn't much going for it.'

'Look at the weight, and it didn't do badly last time out.'Muttie had taught them to read the vital signs.

'You're right, I'll put fifty each way on it,' said Unlucky Jim.

Maud and Simon went down and willed Lucky Child forward. It was a near thing, but he won.

'Thank God,' said Maud devoutly.

'It's very easy really, isn't it? I wonder why Father and old Barty and people who have money troubles don't do this all the time,' Simon said.

'I think they do do it all the time, which is why they have money troubles,' Maud said.

'You may be right.'

'Still, it's a pity we didn't put ten pounds on Lucky Child ourselves, look at what we'd have won.'

'But if it hadn't won we'd be in desperate trouble,' said Simon, who still had no plans on where they would stay for the night.

Unlucky Jim searched the place to give the twins a share of the biggest win he'd ever had. They were such quirky little things, dragging that dog round with them, so serious about everything and carrying stuffed plastic bags with them. He'd like to meet up with them again, and not only to mark his race card. Tipsters who could land Internet Dream and Lucky Child in one day were very few on the ground. Then he realised that he didn't even know their names.

'A lot of people don't come the first day, they come the second day,' Simon said wisely.

'Did Muttie say which day he had planned to take us?' Maud was tired, and a little worried about the night ahead.

'No, but if he's not here today he'll be here tomorrow.'

'So what do you think, should we try to sleep here in the racecourse, it would save us having to pay to get in again?'

'No, they must go round looking otherwise everyone would stay the three days,' Simon said.

So they got a bus back to Kilkenny. They walked and walked to find a suitable place, and then just by pushing a door they found it. It was a big shed with some broken agricultural machinery, tractors and things in it.

'It's like someone's boxroom,' Maud whispered.

It was ideal for them; there would be no problem with Hooves, and there was even a car seat ripped from some vehicle that they could sleep on. They gave Hooves one slice of ham, shared the other and had bread and jam. Tomorrow they'd find Muttie, no problem.

They slept very well because they were so tired, and woke only at the sound of Hooves barking. They had tied him to the door since he might well have found his way back to St Jarlath's Crescent. Maud looked around her. They had been sleeping in a shed full of broken machinery. She had hardly any clean clothes, they had stale bread and over half a jar of jam. They had to go out and find Muttie today.

Simon woke and rubbed his eyes. 'It's nearly ten o'clock,' he said.

'Do we have enough money for a breakfast?'

'You mean, go into a place and pay for it at a table?' Simon was horrified.

'We could have bacon and egg,' Maud said.

Simon was counting the money, they'd have to be very careful, he said, there was the bus to pay for, the entrance again, and then of course if they didn't find Muttie, the train fare home.

'But we're not going home, are we?' Maud asked.

Simon agreed this was so, and that under the circumstances they should go out and look for breakfast. Somewhere that would let Hooves in. They felt a great deal better after breakfast. They tidied themselves up as best they could and set off for the races again.

Unlucky Jim said to himself that he had never won so much money before as he had on Lucky Child. Perhaps there was a message here for him. Like quit when you're winning. Jim had never lived by this philosophy. He wondered should he try to do so now? But then he had never met two such odd children. Travelling on their own to the races, rescuing his briefcase, near-psychic powers about forecasting winners. There was something about that story of going to meet a father or a foster father that didn't sound right. Jim rang his wife and said he was coming home from the races.

'It's only day two,' she said in disbelief.

He alarmed her still further by suggesting that they go out for a meal somewhere posh tonight. She spent most of the day wondering what he could have done to make him feel so guilty.

The racecourse was becoming familiar to them now. They wondered if they would meet Unlucky Jim again. They realised and were almost ready to admit that they didn't really know what kind of a place they'd find Muttie in. Where would he be studying form? Would it be in a bar, or talking to the bookies ? Up to now they had only seen him at work in what he called his office, Mr Keane's betting shop.

Maud sat down. 'I'm tired of looking,' she said.

'You can't be tired, you had an expensive breakfast,' Simon said.

'Suppose he's not here,' Maud said.

Now it was out in the open. Now it had been said and could never be taken back. Simon got such a shock that he let the lead go, and Hooves took off at a great rate through the crowds. The children were aghast. Hooves was a dog that could be allowed off a lead in a field or a park or on the beach, but never where there were crowds of people. He would do terrible damage out of sheer fright and a sense of unfamiliar freedom. They could hear him barking as he pushed his way through the crowds. They pushed their way after him… People had staggered back as Hooves had come at them, bewildered and hysterically barking his head off. They saw him break for some space. The horses had left the parade ring and were lining up.

'Please, Hooves, please don't go on the racecourse, help, help, he'll be killed,' Maud cried, and fell over flat on her face,getting two very badly grazed knees and a cut forehead. But she picked herself up and ran on.

Simon was nearer. 'Please stop the dog,' he shouted.

From every side they were getting looks and indeed shouts of annoyance, no place to bring a dog, the horses might get frightened and rear up… who let those children in here anyway with their damn dog? Hooves had decided against the actual racetrack and swerved to a reasonably empty area where there were some cars and horseboxes… He looked around him, his eyes wild, and then ran straight under the wheels of a jeep that was reversing. The driver couldn't possibly have stopped in time. But the twins saw it all as if it were in slow motion. The way that Hooves was thrown right up in the air and then fell to the ground. He was very still when they got there.

Muttie was having a pint with some of his associates, and opinion was divided about Sandy Keane; should he have taken the children's bet? How could he have refused it? Might he not have thought something was amiss? Where was Muttie, anyway, for the last couple of days? That's what they'd all like to know.Muttie was vague about his overnight stay in hospital, and glossed over it easily. They couldn't live for ever on seventy pounds, they'd have to come out sooner or later. They could hardly go round all the betting shops in Dublin putting two quid on outsiders, or to a race meeting.

'Oh, my God,' said Muttie. 'I told them I'd take them to Gowran Park for their birthday. They could have gone there.

Walter was going up to the bookmaker with the pittance he had got in the marketplace. He saw some disturbance in the distance, but didn't investigate what it was. The odds on Bright Brass Neck weren't good enough, he'd move around, get something better further down the course. Always stupid to put it on at the first place, and he had really good hopes of this one. He'd walk away today with a lot of the debt paid, not all, but a fair whack. And all the other things could then be sorted out. Walter was good at explaining.

Maud had fainted when she saw the accident, and a crowd had gathered. The children were taken into the offices. They 'were told that the dog was being looked after.

'Is he dead?' asked the boy with the tear-stained face.

'What's your name?' they asked him.

'Hooves,' said Simon.

They were bewildered, but they could get no more from Simon: he was too shocked to talk. Maud's cuts had been cleaned, she had been given hot sweet tea but she wouldn't stop shaking. Eventually they had managed to get the children's first names and an announcement was made.

'We have two children here at the information office in a state of considerable distress. Can the adulIs accompanying Maud and Simon please present themselves? They are particularly anxious to meet a Mister Muttie. The information office, please, as soon as you can. The children are very upset.'

Walter had gone down a line of bookies, there were better odds now on Bright Brass Neck than there were at the start. He had been wise to know they would lengthen. Then he heard the announcement. He couldn't believe it; those two devil children had followed him here. But they couldn't have. He had hitched in three stages. So what were they doing here? Then, beside him, he heard someone say that must be the same children who were in the accident with the dog and the jeep. Could he wait for a few minutes and go to the information office when he had placed his bet? There was the usual last-minute crowd around the bookies' stands, and the announcement was made again with a greater sense of urgency. Walter went to the information office.

Everything happened then at the same time. The guards in Kilkenny had heard from Dublin that there was a good chance of the missing children turning up at the race meeting. The race committee and its security staff, which were beginning to despair of ever discovering who these children were, were relieved at this news, which cast them all in the role of heroes. One of the many vets at the races said that Hooves would live. He would be lame and might have to have one paw amputated, but he would definitely live. The young woman who had been driving the jeep was comforted with so many brandies that she eventually couldn't drive at all and had to be taken home. Maud and Simon, already overjoyed with the good news about Hooves, could hardly believe it when Walter came to rescue them. Their faces lit up with delight because they knew now that they had been forgiven for all the awful things they had done: they hugged him tightly, and for the first time in his life he actually felt cheap and shabby.

'Are you Mr Muttie by any chance, sir?' one of the guards asked Walter.

Walter looked sadly at the guard's uniform.

'That's Walter, he's our brother,' said Maud proudly.

'He came to find us,' Simon said, pleased.

'There is a call for Simon and Maud, Mr Scarlet is on the line.'

'Muttie!' they cried in delight.

And outside, where the races still went on, the tannoy announced that Bright Brass Neck had won at eleven to one.

Muttie was being considered the hero of the hour, but he thought of himself as the villain. Of course he had told those children he'd take them. It was all his fault from start to finish. But he wasn't allowed to take the blame. Cathy insisted it was all her fault, she just hadn't realised how dependent they were on people, she should have let them into the vandalised premises, she should have given them a precise date when she was visiting them after the wedding rather than letting them sit there waiting, disappointed. How mean to break a promise to kids who had so little. And to forget their birthday was unforgivable. Neil said a lot of it was down to him, he had believed his father's brother and he really had thought the principle of blood being best was right. Sara said they were all mad, she had just lost the plot on this one, she had been too involved in the campaign for the homeless to see what was straight in front of her, the fact that Simon and Maud, who were her direct responsibility, had no home to speak of. Kenneth Mitchell said little. He had been told that his elder son was most probably guilty of a serious crime, of vandalism and theft. And that the relations intended to prosecute. Kay said even less than her husband did, she had been drinking vodka all day from a bottle which she claimed to be mineral water. Soon somebody would find out. But it didn't really matter because quite obviously Kenneth would be going on his travels again. And this time it might all be over and The Beeches would be sold.

Geraldine brought Nick Ryan back to her flat for the little supper, which would be much more convenient than going to a restaurant, mainly because it would let them start their affair nice and easily. She sat down while Nick opened the bottle of wine.

'You're a very restful person,' he said.

Geraldine thought about it. That's probably what she was, restful. Not making demands, not whining. Never seen in a dirty pinafore, or over a sink of dirty dishes. A woman who had time to listen, a woman who, because she wouldn't see him again for three or four days, had time to rest and go to the gym and restock the fridge and the bar. Not someone who had to bring up his children, entertain his boring work contacIs, keep his house the way he liked it.

'Restful, that's a nice compliment,' she said, 'but will you excuse me until I see if there's any news of the children?' There was a message waiting. They had been found, safe and well. Lizzie and Muttie had been driven down to Kilkenny to retrieve them. She closed her eyes with the relief of it all. You heard such terrible stories, anything could have happened to them. She came back to join Nick. 'Good news, they're on the way home,' she said, and then talked no more about it. Men didn't like people prattling on endlessly about people they didn't know. Geraldine knew a lot about men.

Sara drove Muttie and Lizzie down to collect the children.

'And you're sure the Mitchell family won't mind if they stay the night with us?' Lizzie asked fearfully. 'The agreement, and everything.'

'No, Mrs Scarlet, they'd be very pleased. All of them.'

'It's just, we don't want to make any trouble,' Lizzie said.

'And we're so sorry,'Muttie added.

'But no, there's nothing for you to be sorry about, and it all ended well,' she reassured him.

'Except for Hooves,'Muttie said.

'They're very pleased he's not dead,' Sara said.

'I know,' said Muttie.

'Simon has a theory that if we got him a roller skate for his bad foot, he'd be as good as new.'

'You love them, don't you?' Sara said suddenly.

'Ah, well, doesn't everyone love children, all of ours went off to Chicago apart from Cathy so we've nobody here, it was great to have children around the place again.'

'You must have been very upset after Cathy's news, then,' Sara said.

'What do you mean?'Muttie asked.

'If you love children so much.'

'What news?' Lizzie said.

With a feeling of lead in the bottom of her stomach, Sara realised that they didn't know about the miscarriage. Neil had told her it was low-key; she hadn't realised just how low.

'I thought it was Cathy who gave you the news that Maud and Simon were found,' she said helplessly.

'No,Muttie was there when the guards phoned,' Lizzie said.

'And why would we be upset? We were overjoyed.'Muttie was confused.

Sara bit her lip and told herself that she must be the worst social worker in the western hemisphere, as she drove on through the twilight to collect her charges.

'Cathy?' The call was late. Cathy was reading in the kitchen, Neil was working at his big table.

'Yes, who's that?'

'It's Walter.'

'Oh,' she said. The story that she heard had not been entirely clear, but it did appear that Walter had on this occasion managed to behave normally and had gone to the help of his little brother and sister.

I'm still down here, they sort of thought I should wait until Maud and Simon were collected.'

'Good.' She was crisp.

'It's just, I was wondering, who is collecting them you know…'

'My mother, father and their social worker.'

'And will there also be… do you think?'

'Yes, I think there will

'I see,' he said. There was a silence between them. Then he spoke again. 'It's too late, I suppose, to ask you to—'

'Much too late, Walter, it's all in hand, your parents have been informed.'

'I see,' he said again.

'Would you like to talk to Neil, or will I just say goodbye, then?' she asked.

There was a pause. 'Goodbye then, Cathy,' Walter Mitchell said.

Tom Feather had been so pleased to hear the good news that he made a cake and delivered it round to St Jarlath's Crescent. He had attached a card with the words 'Happy Birthday and Welcome Home to Maud and Simon and Hooves' on it, and left it with Muttie and Lizzie's neighbours. He was delighted they had been found safe. Such funny little things. He had once said to Marcella that he hoped they'd have children like that one day, real individuals with their own personality through and through. He remembered she had smiled indulgently, as if he was saying that one day he'd fly his own spaceship to Mars. Perhaps Marcella had never intended to have children. He had been sorry to hear Joe's cryptic remark that things were not going well in London for her. He guessed that this must be so after her phone call to Cathy. It was not what he wanted to hear. The only thing that made sense out of all this hurtful, tragic business was if she got what she wanted by doing what she had done. If she hadn't got a modelling career, then what on earth was the point of the whole thing?

Neil had wanted to make love that night, but Cathy said she was too tired.

'Well, now. Tired, is it?' he repeated.

'I am too tired actually, I have to get up very early, I'm going to pick up the kids from Mam and Dad's and take them to school, everyone thinks they should go straight back, it would cause the least disruption.'

'Certainly, whatever madam the educationalist thinks,' he said, hurt and annoyed at her rejection.

'Don't be so sneering and bitter,' she said.

'I'm not.'

'You're making fun of me,' she said, 'mocking me.'

'And you're keeping me at arm's length.'

'Goodnight, Neil,' she said.

And it was one of those increasingly frequent nights where they slept as far from each other as possible.

Nick Ryan left Glenstar discreetly half an hour before Geraldine did the next morning. It had been a memorable evening, 'a delightful and important evening,' he said. Geraldine murmured her agreement. Nick Ryan obviously felt slightly uneasy about the situation, and the fact that he would not be free to come back to this welcoming flat that evening.

'I really wish…' he began.

Geraldine stopped him. 'Let's not waste any time wishing,' she said as she poured the excellent coffee into beautiful china cups. 'Let's just look forward to another lovely evening, whenever it turns up.'

She knew when he left that he was already besotted with her. For all the good that that would do in the long run. She sighed and went to phone Lizzie. Everything was wonderful in St Jarlath's Crescent. The twins were going to stay there for the time being, Cathy was coming round to drive them to school, the dog's paw didn't need to be amputated, only a splint. And Sara, the nice social worker, who had been kindness itself, said that Muttie and Lizzie should apply to foster the children. She thought that they might have a very good chance ofgetting them.

Shona Burke rang James. 'Great news, those children have turned up.'

'I am pleased to hear that,' he said. 'Where are they now?'

'With Muttie and Lizzie Scarlet.'

'Well, please God that's where they'll stay,' James said, very aware of the issue that hung between them.

Simon and Maud were just ten. They were nearly five years younger than Shona was when the law said she must leave the place where she was happy.

'Please God indeed,' Shona said.

'The world is a saner place nowadays, Shona,' he said. There was a silence. 'Let's hope Muttie Scarlet has a lot more courage than I did,' James said.

'Let's hope he has just as much love as you did,' Shona said gently.

James Byrne felt better than he had done for a long time. A few minutes later, he got a call from Cathy.

'Good news for once.'

'I've just heard about the twins, isn't it wonderful?' he said.

'No, this good news is actually about their brother. The guards are looking for Walter Mitchell, they've retrieved enough items from The Beeches and they know now that he did the break-in.'

'I don't want to add a sour note…'

'But?' Cathy said.

'It wasn't technically a break-in, that has been the whole problem with the insurance company.'

'Well, that's what he did,' Cathy said impatiently.

'No, Cathy, look at it from their point of view… Your husband's cousin let himself in to your premises with a key. It won't make them think any less that the whole thing was an inside job.'

She thanked him politely and said goodbye. Then she crashed the receiver back and shouted at the phone. 'Thanks for ruining our day,' she yelled in a rage.

'Who did you just slam the phone down on now?' Tom asked mildly.

She told him.

'Walter's so slippery, he might even say that we were in on it all for the insurance money.' She sounded very upset.

'No, he's too stupid, he'd never think that one out for himself,' Tom soothed her.

'But much, much more serious is how did he get the keys?'

'He might have seen us doing the ceremony of the keys in the van and crept along to pick them up,' Cathy said.

'I've been over that, we didn't start doing it until Walter was sacked,' Tom said.

'You mean you thought they'd still think it an inside job even though we'd found the thief?'

'It's just bad luck his being a cousin,' Tom said.

'I know,' Cathy sighed. 'Oh, I really wonder where cousin Walter is, now this minute?'

Cousin Walter had made three phone calls since all the confusion at the races. There was the one to Cathy; then he phoned his father to say that he was sorry but the heat was on and he might not be home for a while.

'I know, I heard,' his father said gloomily.

'Still, it's good no harm came to the children,' Walter said.

His father was strangely distanced from this. 'They've brought all hell down around our ears over it all, social police, real police walking in and out of The Beeches as if it was their office, and that dreadful girl your cousin married, claiming you robbed her premises and getting people to search your room. And other people asking your mother how much she drinks really and truly.'

'I know, Father.'

'No, don't tell me about innocent, blameless children, they went to a licensed bookmaker and put on a bet at their age, they brought that Muttie's dog to a racecourse, the last place you should bring a dog, they all nearly got killed and somehow it's turned out to be our fault. Why they couldn't have stayed here like normal children is beyond me.'

Walter's third call was to Derek, to say that the guards would probably land there anyway, so to make sure there was no substance in the house that shouldn't be.

'Don't mind about that,' Derek said, 'I'm not going to be done for your stolen goods, am I?'

'No, it's all out of there.'

'And what are you doing?'

'I'll stay away for a few weeks until it all dies down. See you then, back in Dublin.'

'Take care of yourself, Walter, you're not the worst,' Derek said a trifle guiltily.

Walter caught the tone and went for a last throw. 'Oh, Derek, in about five hours' time you could report your credit card missing,' he said.

'You never took my credit card?' Derek roared down the phone.

'No, but I know its number and I'm going to book myself a oneway ticket.'

'To where?' Derek asked in a panic.

'Relax, just to London, I'll be out the other side of Heathrow airport in five hours, so that's when you call them and notice it's missing.'

'Walter, that's not fair.'

'Not fair, not fair? Just one measly air ticket? When I'm facing jail? Get real, Derek!'

'Okay, five hours from now I get a new credit card number, and it had better only be the air ticket,' said Derek.

Sara seemed very ill at ease when Cathy went to see her.

'You know your parents want to foster the twins?'

'Yes, and I want to know what are the chances of Muttie and Lizzie getting them. Realistically. They just adore them, I don't want them to have to go through all this again.'

'You know we're talking about fostering, not adopting.'

'I know that. Poor people foster, rich people adopt,' Cathy said cynically.

'That's actually not true, and you know it's not, it's because Maud and Simon's parents are alive and could easily put up a case to have them back, and the law says…'

'The law doesn't know its arse from its elbow about things like this,' Cathy said.

'Believe me, I'm with you on this, my work every day is saying what you just said, but not as succinctly.'

'I know you are. You are tireless about things, just like Neil. Did he tell you, by the way, that he will be free after all to go with you to that conference next February? Remember when I was pregnant, he told you that he couldn't?'

'But won't you be gone by then?' Sara asked.

'Gone?'

'By February?' Sara was surprised.

'Gone where?' Cathy asked. Sara made a big production out of looking for her mobile phone. 'Gone where?' Cathy repeated.

'No, I'm mixing it up with someone else who was going away to… um… to England around then. Take no notice of me, I'm in pieces these days.'

Cathy looked at her thoughtfully. Sara had gone quite pale.

She was very tired from the finicky work they had to do for Peter Murphy, a cocktail reception at his home with top-drawer finger food. The creme de la creme was there, he assured Cathy several times, and that she must tell her aunt. Cathy didn't believe people ever used phrases like that any more.

'He still fancies your aunt, you know!' June said, 'I hope we'll have as many people lusting after us when we turn forty.'

'I know it's not what you want to hear, but your husband is pretty anxious to put a stop to your gallop in the lusting department… He was onto Tom this morning to know what kind of a do this was.'

'Don't mind him, he's mad.' „

'He loves you,' Cathy said.

June laughed. 'God, he may have once for about twenty minutes when I was sixteen.'

'Don't put yourself down June, he must love you. Why else would he care and ring up about you?'

'I don't know, but I wouldn't put any money on it,' said June. 'Are you going straight home yourself when we're through?'

'Yes, tonight it's Tom and Con's turn to unload the van; you and I get home to our fellows.'

'Well you'll be delighted to see your fellow, and he'll be delighted to see you, there's the difference for a start,' June said. 'Be sure and keep a few of these prawn in filo pastry things for him, those will soften his cough.'

'I couldn't bear to look at any more of them, June.'

'But he hasn't been looking at them all day like we have,' June said with remorseless logic.

'Was it tiring tonight?' Neil asked.

'No, fine, sorry for grizzling about being tired last night.' Cathy was bright and cheerful.

'What are these?'

'I thought you'd like a few special prawns.'

He seemed pleased with them on their little plate. 'They're great, so light… Did you make them?'

She felt a great urge to say no, they had picked them up in a takeaway, what did he think she did for a living? But she smiled and said that she had.

'They're really great.' He didn't ask about the do tonight, he never asked about any do, whether it was Peter Murphy's cocktails, a fashion show, a wedding or a funeral. It was always still Cathy's funny job.

'You met Sara today,' he began. He seemed uneasy.

'I wanted to ask about the twins. Like whether there was a real chance of Dad and Mam fostering them full-time.'

'And what did she say… ?'

'Well, she told me that the law might come down heavy because of them being old and working-class, but I told her that was balls and she more or less agreed.'

'But did you talk about anything else?'

'Is this a guessing game, or what?' Cathy asked.

'Okay, straight out, she rang me and said she had put her foot in it.'

'About what?'

'You know, now it's you who's playing guessing games.'

'I don't know, tell me.'

'She said that she had let it slip to you that I was still interested in the refugee job.'

'Well of course you are,' she was perplexed. 'I assumed you wouldn't have thought of it so seriously and then suddenly just let it slip out of your mind, I supposed you'd be thinking about it, yes.'

'The thing is, they've put the offer to me again, with different terms.'

'And you're going to take it.'

'Of course I'm not going to take it just like that, but we need to talk about it seriously.'

'Meanwhile you talk to Sara about it seriously.'

'Cathy!'

'I'd love a nice long bath,' she said.

'Please don't be like that.'

'Look, Neil, of course we'll talk about it seriously, but not at this time of night. Now I'm going off to lie there and think about the world, and I'd prefer to do so as your friend than somebody having a silly pointless argument with you.'

'Enjoy your bath, friend,' he surrendered.

Tom Feather invited Shona Burke out to dinner. He meant it as a combination of a work dinner and a thank-you gesture. He took her to a small French place.

'I promise I won't spend the time examining and criticising the food,' he said with an apologetic smile. 'People tell me they see me cutting up things, analysing them and they spot me as a rival from a mile away.'

Shona said that she was exactly the same, she kept looking out for something that would be useful to her at work. And took notes. One man thought she was writing down what he was saying.

'And was he saying anything he didn't want written down?' Tom asked. He had been talking about motorcycles, apparently, and Shona had been writing down the name and address of an efficient air-conditioning system. 'And did you see him again?' Tom wondered.

'No, but I did learn something from the experience - I don't take my notebook on dates any more.'

'Very wise, I'd say. But then, what would I know. I haven't been out on a date myself for so long.'

'Do you miss her a lot?'

'Marcella?' he said, surprised.

'Sorry Tom, it's your business. I don't usually pry into other people's lives.'

He didn't seem offended. 'Well, the answer is yes and no. I miss what I thought we had rather than what we really had. Maybe that's the way it always is when something's over.'

After dinner, Tom took Shona back to Glenstar and refused coffee on the grounds that he had early-morning bread to make and needed his sleep. He drove home to Stoneyfield. As he parked he could see someone sitting on the steps outside in the cold night air. It was Marcella.