‘Really?’ Guy’s eyebrows shot up. ‘Where are we going? Somewhere nice, I hope?’

Evidently finding nothing strange in the idea that less than a week after Serena’s departure Guy should have found himself a new future wife, Jack glanced with regret at the half-empty glass in his hand.

‘What a shame, I only have three bottles of elderflower left. But if you think you might be interested, Guy, I could let you have three cases of last year’s damson and crabapple. That would certainly make the wedding party go with a swing.’

By seven-thirty the house was overflowing with guests, an eclectic mixture of smart, arty and downright Bohemian types complete with children and dogs for added informality. Janey, proudly introduced by Mimi as ‘a whizz with flowers’, almost had to forcibly restrain her from adding, ‘She’s Guy’s new girlfriend but I’m not allowed to tell you because it’s all terribly hush-hush.’

What struck Janey about the assortment of guests was their friendliness. Mimi and Jack clearly had no time for the kind of people who might turn up their noses at terrible wine or gaze askance at a messy home.

Two or three of them she even knew slightly, through the shop, whilst others, on hearing about it, bombarded her with questions. There was always someone desperate to learn how a wilting yukka could be sprung back to life, exactly how to go about preserving beech leaves with glycerine, when and how to trim a bonsai .. .

She was in the middle of demonstrating the method of putting together a pot-et-fleur arrangement to the glamorous wife of a pig farmer when Guy reappeared at her side.

‘I’m thinking of setting up evening classes,’ Janey told him with a grin.

‘It looks to me as if you’ve already started.’ He showed her his watch. ‘Eight o’clock.

Definitely evening.’

‘Eight o’clock already?’The play started at eight thirty; he had come to tell her it was time to leave. Taney, feeling like a six-year-old at a birthday party, looked crestfallen.

‘We shouldn’t be late,’ said Guy. ‘Apart from anything else, I can’t stand being glared at when I’m trying to squeeze past all the people already in their seats.’

‘This play,’ she said in neutral tones. ‘Is it ... good?’

‘Oh, terrific. Riveting. Unmissable.’

‘And these tickets. Expensive?’

‘Cost an absolute fortune.’

‘Do we have to go?’

Guy shook his head. ‘We don’t have to.’

Feeling guilty, she said, ‘Do you want to?’

He smiled. ‘Of course I don’t. I hate the bloody theatre.’

The party was proving to be a great success. An enormous game of charades was interrupted at nine o’clock by the arrival of a caterer’s van bringing Chinese food for sixty. At ten o’clock, everyone was ushered out into the garden for the firework display.

‘I haven’t had a chance to ask you yet how you’ve been getting on.’ Guy led Janey towards a wooden bench from which they could view the proceedings in comfort. When she shivered in the chilly September night air he removed his green sweater and draped it across her shoulders.

Janey breathed in the scent of aftershave emanating from the soft folds of wool. It was a curiously intimate sensation, wearing an item of clothing still warm from someone else’s body.

Glad of the darkness she said, ‘You mean meeting your friends tonight?’

‘I mean sorting yourself out and getting Parry-Brent out of your system.’

‘Don’t worry, he’s well and truly out.’ She gave him a rueful smile. ‘A little public humiliation works like a charm.’

‘It didn’t exactly make him look good, either,’ Guy reminded her. ‘A scene like that won’t improve his street cred.’

‘I suppose not.’ Janey thought about it for a moment. ‘Well, good.’

‘And you haven’t seen him since?’

Not at all. He’s doing his own flowers from now on ... or sweet-talking some other gullible female into doing them for him.’ She fidgeted with the sleeves of the sweater, twisting them around her cold hands. ‘But that’s enough about my failed relationship. How about you? Does it feel strange, not having Serena around any more?’

‘Ah.’ Guy sounded amused. ‘You mean it’s time to talk about my failed relationship.’

Janey laughed. ‘Well, it seems only fair. And it’s so encouraging, knowing I’m not the only one who makes mistakes.’

Maxine had told her, of course, about Guy’s return from Holland and the subsequent departure – amid a flurry of Louis Vuitton suitcases – of Serena and all her worldly goods. There had been no question of either forgiveness or reconciliation; such overwhelming lack of concern for the safety of his children was unforgivable.

‘What can I say?’ He shrugged, to indicate his own misjudgement. ‘I’ve spent the last three years getting myself involved with unsuitable women and Serena turned out to be the icing on the cake. She was beautiful and she didn’t try to suck up to Josh and Ella. Somehow I’d got it into my head that it was how my wife would have behaved if I’d already had children in tow when I first met her. Véronique would never have used them in order to get to me. She’d have taken her time getting to know them and allowed them to make up their own minds about her in return. When I met Serena she said much the same thing and it struck a chord. I was impressed by her honesty.’ Pausing for a second, Guy added ruefully, ‘I even managed to persuade myself that at last I’d found someone whom Véronique would approve of.’

The first fireworks were being set off, exploding against the night sky in a dazzle of colour and light, each rocket climbing higher than the last. The children squealed with delight. After watching them for a few moments, Guy spoke again. ‘A couple of years ago I took the kids to a bonfire-night party,’ he said in a low voice, ‘and Ella asked me if her mother could see the fireworks from Heaven. The thing is, nobody ever teaches you the answers to questions like that.’

Janey was no longer cold but she shivered anyway.

Brushing a leaf from her black trousers she tucked her feet up on the bench and hugged her knees.

‘Now you’ve really made me feel ashamed of myself. The only person I have to look after is me. If I make a pig’s ear of things, at least I’m the only one who has to suffer the consequences. I can’t imagine how much more difficult it must be for you, always having the children to consider as well.’

‘Hmm,’ said Guy. ‘The trouble is, it doesn’t stop you making the mistakes. You just feel a hell of a lot guiltier afterwards, and hope to God your kids don’t say "I told you so".’

In an attempt to cheer him up, Janey said, ‘Oh well, you’re bound to meet the right girl sooner or later. Who knows, by this time next year you could be married and living happily ever after with someone who adores children ...’

‘You’re beginning to sound like Mimi.’ With mock-severity he demanded, ‘Have you been reading her books?’

‘Mimi writes books?’ Janey was instantly diverted by this piece of news. ‘What kind?’

‘The kind where you end up married and living happily ever after with someone who adores children,’ said Guy dryly. ‘She sat me down and forced me to read an entire Chapter, once. Real fingers-down-the-throat stuffit was too. ‘I told her they ought to be sold with detachable sick bags.’

‘That’s because you’re a man,’ she explained in comforting tones. ‘Women love that kind of thing because the men in the books are so much nicer than any in real life. We call it escapism.’

‘The trouble with Mimi is she’s written so many she’s started believing them,’ he protested.

‘You wouldn’t believe the problems I had with her when she heard about Maxine coming to work for me. She was practically uncontrollable. Pretty-nanny-meets-widowed-father, it seems, is one of her all-time favourite plots.’

It was one of Maxine’s, too, thought Janey with secret amusement. But the opportunity to tease him was too good to pass up. ‘These things do happen,’ she said mildly. ‘Who knows how your feelings might change?’

‘Oh please.’ He heaved a great sigh of despair. ‘Not you as well. Maxine? Never. Not in a million years!’

‘That’s what they always say in the books,’ Janey replied cheerfully. ‘All the way through.

Right up until the very last Chapter ...’

Chapter 32

Maxine’s high hopes for the lucrative toilet-roll commercial — founded on the basis of having once slept with the casting director — had been cruelly scuppered by his decision to give the job to the actress with whom he was currently sleeping instead. The disappointment of losing out was made all the harder to bear by the almost universal lack of sympathy.

‘What a waste,’ said Guy, straight-faced. ‘All that talent down the pan.’

‘If you’d got it,’ Josh innocently enquired, ‘would it have been a leading rôle?’

Ella, who didn’t get the so-called jokes, said loyally, ‘Well I’m glad you aren’t doing it. I told my teacher Mrs Mitchell that you were going to sit on the toilet on television with your knickers down and she said it sounded horrible.’

‘I was not going to sit on the toilet with my knickers down,’ said Maxine through gritted teeth. No wonder Mrs Mitchell had given her such a sour look when she’d picked Ella up from school yesterday.

‘Josh said you were.’

‘Josh is a little toad about to get his Gameboy confiscated.’

‘That’s not fair!’ protested Josh. ‘Dad was the one who told me the joke.’

‘Ah, you mean the hysterically funny leading rôle joke.’ Maxine glared across the breakfast table at Guy. ‘I suppose it took you hours to think that one up.’