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balloons as if wondering how he’s going to get them inside. ‘Here,’ he says, pulling out two from the bunch and handing them to Luke and Jamie.

‘What do you say, boys?’ I demand, in that way that parents have that we are aware must be so annoying to our offspring but we do it anyway, to show those we don’t know well our dedication to good manners and correct behaviour.

‘Thank you,’ says Jamie, always obedient.

‘I want a party bag,’ wails Luke, ‘not a stupid balloon.’

‘Luke!’ I can’t believe he’s letting me down like this. ‘I am so sorry,’ I say to Dan, and then, tugging angrily at Luke’s arm, chide him. ‘Luke, don’t be so rude.’

I don’t know what to do to cover my mortification, so I just look down and try to make my way past Dan. But he and the balloons together make an impassable barrier, so I have to stop.

‘Don’t worry about it!’ he exclaims, ‘and I’m the one who should be sorry. I got stuck with clients waiting for a delayed flight. I couldn’t just dump them at the airport and leave them so …’ Dan tails off, as if realising that it’s not me he needs to explain himself to. Although, having heard his excuse, it seems eminently understandable. I hope Charlotte can see reason, for Dan’s sake.

‘Of course he must have a party bag,’ Dan resumes, equanimity quickly restored. ‘They both must have one. I’ll fetch them now. Please wait.’

He thrusts the bundle of balloon strings towards me. ‘Hold these for a moment, please.’

He disappears inside whilst I stand there feeling like Mary Poppins and wondering whether I should start to sing. I’m just about to launch into ‘A spoonful of sugar’ when Dan reappears and, with a flourish, gives each boy an enormous party bag.

‘Thank you,’ they both chorus in unison, no prompting necessary this time.

‘It was a super party,’ I say again. ‘They had so much fun. Please do thank Charlotte for me – I didn’t quite get the chance. The phone, you know …’ I gesture back into the hall, to where the phone cradle still stands empty on the table.

Dan nods and holds out his hand. It is strong and lightly tanned, with long, elegant fingers. On his other wrist I notice, as we’re shaking, is the most beautiful man’s watch I’ve ever seen; it’s clearly worth thousands.

‘Glad you came, er …’ his voice trails off as he realises he doesn’t know who I am, has no idea what my name is.

‘Susannah,’ I fill in hastily. ‘And of course you’re Dan,’ I add, in case he wonders why I don’t ask.

‘Susannah.’ He says it slowly, rolling it around his tongue as if savouring it. ‘What a pretty name.’

I blush. It’s so long since anyone paid me a compliment that I don’t know how to react.

‘Thank you,’ I mumble. Charlotte must be off the phone now as I can hear her voice calling from inside the house, but not what she’s saying.

‘We must see you again sometime,’ Dan continues, and he’s about to say more when Charlotte obviously calls something from inside, inaudible to me, before she appears on the threshold. She seems tense, on edge but not, right now, with Dan. Instead, she has that look in her eye of someone who’s been distracted by something they can’t quite get their head around. I wonder what it could be – perhaps the phone call contained unexpected news of some sort. Her eyes flicker absentmindedly over me and the boys and then she addresses Dan again, as if she’s already forgotten that we are there.

‘Hurry up and come in, you’re letting all the cold air in,’ she says. Her voice is softer, her manner more subdued.

Mutely, I hold the balloons out so that Dan can reclaim them. He smiles, says goodbye and then follows Charlotte back into the house, wedging the balloons with some difficulty through the door despite its opulent width. The boys and I descend the steps.

‘Bye and thank you again,’ I call back over my shoulder, and as I do so, Dan turns. He gives me a conspiratorial shrug that says ‘I have to do as I’m told’ before the huge, heavy door closes and he and the multicoloured balloons are gone.

All the way home, as the boys chatter excitedly about their exploits of the afternoon, my thoughts are fixed on Charlotte and Dan, Dan and Charlotte. Little quarrels and disagreements aside, their lifestyle is enviable, their wealth and glamour all-pervasive, the opportunities and advantages they can offer their children too numerous to mention. Oh, may God strike me down for my shallowness, but I would love just a little bit of what Charlotte has.

In all honesty, who wouldn’t?

Chapter 6

Charlotte

Forgetting all about Dan, his tardiness, his ridiculous gesture of reconciliation that is the heaving mass of helium balloons, as soon as the phone starts to ring once more I rush to answer it, grabbing the handset from the cradle, resisting the urge to smash it to the ground. Out of the corner of my eye I see you, cowering in the doorway, your boys clutched in your hands. You cannot be witness to my humiliation. Muttering my habitual greeting, ‘Biglow 601017’, I slip into the butler’s pantry, shutting and locking the door behind me. I do all of this before I’ve even registered that there’s no one there, no one on the other end of the line.

It’s another drop down. I dial 1471. Number withheld.

I turn around, lean against the solid wood of the door, and concentrate on steadying my breathing, bringing my heart rate down to its usual pace. One … two … three … One … two … three … I count slowly in my head to slow my racing pulse.

It feels like an age has passed before I am fit to re-enter the hallway. Running my fingers through my hair to smooth it down, I emerge from the pantry, assuming a nonchalant gait

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