‘Very interesting,’ he said, ‘and, no, I don’t mind.’ I could tell he meant it.

‘Hal, will you come to a party for a friend who’s getting married? I think it will amuse you.’

‘On condition that you come shopping.’

‘Which first?’

‘Shopping.’

Which is how it came about that, dressed in my French linen dress and wearing the French underwear, I went with Hal to Charles Madder’s lunch party to celebrate his wedding, which was supposed to be secret.

But the press had been working on it. When we left, we ran straight into a phalanx of photographers. The result was a front-page photograph in the next day’s paper – of Charles and Kate leaving the restaurant, followed by Hal and me. I was clutching a large carrier-bag, which contained the softest, most supple and expensive walking boots Hal could afford, and which he had insisted on buying me.

Poppy came to view the new flat. ‘I’ve been ordered to report back to Dad,’ she said. ‘And he ordered me not to tell you.’

‘Well, don’t, then.’

Poppy poked her head into a kitchen cupboard. ‘It smells dreadful – of dead insects. I hope you’re going to rip it all out and start again.’

‘There’s no need. Underneath the ghastly paint is some lovely wood. It just needs cherishing.’

While I made lists, Poppy prowled through the rest of the flat, but I gave up after a bit. I could do everything when I moved in.

‘It’s OK,’ said Poppy, but she was doubtful. ‘And the garden is twee.’

‘As long as the flat is warm and waterproof.’

‘So unlike you, Mum. You always took such pains at Lakey Street. You put so much energy into making it nice. Promise me you won’t go downhill and not care.’

‘Do I look riddled with decay?’ Poppy rummaged in a smart, expensive-looking handbag shaped like a croissant. ‘Nice bag,’ I added.

A funny little look stole over her face. ‘Isn’t it? Richard gave it to me.’ She fished out makeup and a transparent plastic envelope full of loose change. ‘Where is my mobile?’

I poked at the envelope – not the luminous envelope I used to think about at sixteen but an infinitely more earthbound, practical one. ‘Why all the change, Poppy?’

‘Richard says we have to start saving. Pension and things. Big trees from little acorns grow. So, I’m saving my coins.’

This was yet another new light shed on my impulsive, romantic daughter. I snapped my notebook shut and tucked my hand into Poppy’s elbow. ‘How’s it going?’

‘Well… we had a big row the other day. I packed my suitcase, but Richard stopped me at the door.’

‘Are you speaking or non-speaking at the moment?’

There was a pause. ‘Speaking… sort of. I’ve got a job interview, editorial, and Richard bought me a trouser suit to wear for it, so I have to speak to him.’

‘Oh, well, then,’ I said. ‘It can’t be all that bad.’

I drove Poppy back to Kensington. ‘Has Sam mentioned Alice?’ I asked her.

‘He said she was going to be all right, that he felt terribly guilty, and he’d had no idea she felt about him the way she did.’

I skirted an illegally parked lorry. ‘I liked Alice much better after Sam left her. She’s honest.’

Poppy made a face. ‘Jilly’s upset. She feels Alice set out to ruin her happiness.’

‘I don’t think Alice would put herself through all that just to get back at Jilly. I think Jilly was irrelevant.’

‘Well, that will cheer her up.’ There was just a touch of malice in Poppy’s tone. Perhaps she hadn’t forgiven Jilly for keeping her in the dark. ‘But if you think Jilly was irrelevant you’re wrong. Jilly took one look at Sam at the party and went for him.’

This was a new perspective on the luminous Jilly.

Each of us reflected on the conversation, until we turned into Poppy’s street. ‘You’re not planning to get a small dog or take up knitting or anything, Mum, are you?’

Astonished, I glanced at her. ‘No. Why?’

‘Women who retire from the world tend to do that sort of thing.’

‘Am I retiring from the world?’ I shook my head at Poppy. ‘Not.’

She considered my cutting-edge linen trouser suit and highlighted hair. ‘No.’ She smiled. ‘But some people do. They decide to let go.’

‘Well, I haven’t. I have plenty to do. Plenty to see. And there’s someone I want you to meet. He’s an old friend from university and I thought he might interest you.’

Her face darkened. ‘I find that odd to think about, Mum. You with a past. It’s not how I see you. But I suppose I’ll get used to it. You don’t think,’ she shot out, ‘you’d ever go back to Dad? He talks about you a lot when Minty’s out of earshot.’

I did the only thing I could do. I reached over and took her hand, keeping the other on the wheel. Poppy stared straight ahead. After a minute or two, she retracted her hand, took off her glasses and polished them.

Chapter Twenty-eight

Timon rang. ‘What’s it like to grace the front page? Could you celebrate with a sandwich lunch in the office? I’ve checked with Jean. Nathan will be out on a brainstorming day in Bournemouth. You won’t run into him.’

I laughed. ‘No need for the deep cover. Nathan and I are perfectly polite to each other when we meet.’

More out of curiosity than anything, I accepted Timon’s invitation but made sure that I was more than five minutes late.

The office block looked the same and, inside, smelt the same, and the same bright pink notepad lay on Timon’s desk, flanked by a plate of sandwiches and mineral water.

He held out his hand. ‘A lot of water has gone under the bridge.’

This was so evident that I did not bother to reply. Timon’s smile was a trifle grim. ‘OK, Rose, let’s dispense with the small-talk?’

‘OK,’ I countered, and did a rapid mental review of the figures I had spotted on Kim’s desk. ‘How do you feel about the dip in your figures?’

Competition always sharpened up Timon. ‘The Daily Dispatch’s weren’t that brilliant.’

‘The Daily Dispatch wasn’t running a couple of promotions.’

We gave ourselves time to reflect on the discrepancy in favour of the Daily Dispatch. Timon offered me a sandwich and poured out the water. ‘You haven’t lost your wits. I take it Nathan has seen you all right?’

I did not see that details of the divorce were any business of Timon’s, but I knew him well enough to understand that the remark had been kindly meant. ‘Nathan has been more than generous.’

‘Well, that’s Nathan.’ Timon chewed a chicken and avocado sandwich. ‘Did you know that Minty’s moving to the consumer-affairs section?’

Without a doubt there had been an ulterior motive to this meeting, but I was surprised Timon had revealed it so early. ‘No, I didn’t.’

‘You have to keep your edge in this game. Keep moving. I’m not sure Minty kept her eye on the ball.’ A rim of avocado squeezed out between the slices of the bread and he caught it in the nick of time. Wiping his hands, he said, ‘You and I both know that what happens in business is not personal.’

I put down my sandwich, struck by how old-fashioned Timon sounded – a man devoured and obsessed by his work. ‘That’s one way of looking at it.’

‘The rules of private life don’t apply.’

In a previous life, I had worked with these nostra. They slid easily off the tongue, were convenient and portable, like lightweight luggage. But I did not have to carry them any longer.

‘Yes,’ Timon raised one eyebrow, which made him look more a caricature than he would have wished, ‘running a business does not leave much room for scruple.’ The phone rang and Timon ignored it. This made me sit up: in the past Timon had never ignored phone calls. He went on, ‘The books pages have been disappointing. I gather Minty has had a few health problems. The sort that do take the eye off the ball.’

‘So?’

‘If I floated the idea past your delightful nose that, possibly, your old job might be in the offing, what would you say?’

I could not deny the full-blooded, deep-bellied satisfaction. I reached for the mineral water and poured myself another glass. I intended that this moment should stretch and stretch. ‘Give me the details.’

‘More money. Better contract. Kim is under-using you.’

‘Kim and I understand each other. He’s been very good to me.’

Timon shrugged. ‘Oh, well.’ He pulled his notebook towards him and fiddled with the spine. ‘There are others.’

As a threat, it did not impress me. ‘Of course.’ But I was curious. ‘Timon, what exactly has Minty not done?’

He filled in the blank page with a huge circle. ‘I just have a hunch that’s she lost it.’ He looked up. ‘My instincts are generally right.’

An imp, a devil, performed a merry dance in my head. ‘You put her there, Timon.’ I picked up my bag. ‘Thank you for the offer. I’ll think about it and let you know’ At the door, I paused. We had known each other a long time, and shared not a little. Good times, bad bumps. I turned back. ‘Funnily enough, it was good to see you.’ He had already opened a thick file and was riffling through the papers. ‘I’m sorry Minty didn’t work out.’

He sent me a little wave and said, ‘It happens. Some people don’t promote well.’ A corner of his mouth went down. ‘She’s put on weight too.’

‘Not worthy of you, Timon,’ I said, not quite repressively enough.

Poor Minty. She did not mind using her looks for whatever purpose, but she would hate, simply hate, being condemned for the lack of them.

As luck would have it, I bumped into her as I crossed the foyer.

She was heading for the exit, the kitten heels slipping on the polished floor. Her hair was cut shorter, and the glossy skin had a tired, sallow tinge. Timon was right: she had put on weight.

‘Minty?’

She stiffened and turned. ‘Rose. What are you doing here?’ Within seconds her busy brain had put two and two together, and the dark, slanting eyes were as hard as agates. ‘Oh, I see. Vengeance is mine.’