to shower before getting dressed. The lukewarm water was refreshing, cooling down her skin, waking her properly. Standing by the window later, she saw that the wind and rain had passed. The weather had warmed up, the late-evening sun was shining, the sky was blue and clear, not a cloud in sight. It could be summer instead of autumn. A perfect evening for a barbecue.
She put on her favourite casual outfit, a jade-green-trouser suit. Under the jacket she wore a bronze silk sleeveless tunic so fine it could be drawn through the exactly matching bronze Celtic bracelet she wore on one arm. She had bought this replica at the British Museum shop; it was inscribed with runic writing.
It was nearly six-thirty by the time she got to her sister’s house and the barbecue was already crowded and noisy, mostly with children, Zoe was sorry to see. Her nephews rushed at her, pink and excited.
‘A balloon landed on the barbie and blew up!’
‘Dad went crazy!’
‘You should have heard him shouting!’
They both giggled, looking at each other. ‘It really made him jump!’
Zoe eyed them shrewdly. ‘It wouldn’t have been you two who lobbed the balloon on to the barbie, by any chance?’
‘Us?’ The eldest, seven-year-old Felix, said innocently, his eyes reminding her of his father. You could see already what Felix would look like when he was Mark’s age—he was going to be tall, dark, bony, very attractive.
‘It just blew down from a tree, honestly!’ six-year-old Charlie said, but a dimple in his cheek and a chuckle in his voice gave him away. He wasn’t yet quite out of babyhood, face and body still soft and downy, but he tumbled in his big brother’s wake everywhere, falling over, bruising himself, but determined to do everything Felix did. He wasn’t as much like his father. Zoe saw her sister in him, Sancha’s warmth, her tenderness, her sensitivity. No need to worry about Felix; he was as tough as a tree and full of confidence. But Charlie was different. Zoe knew Sancha worried about him.
‘Oh, there you are! I said six, not half past!’ Sancha gave her a quick hug, then looked her up and down, making a face. ‘You look as if you’re dressed for a nightclub. I suppose you bought that outfit in Paris when you went there last month?’
‘No, London, and it’s a year old! Sorry I’m late. I had so much to do. My one day off! I’ve been rushing about, shopping, doing housework. Here, my contribution to the bar!’ Zoe handed her sister the two bottles of red Chianti she was carrying.
‘Chianti! Lovely. Thanks. It will remind us of our wonderful Tuscan holiday—it was quite a wrench to come back. We loved it, didn’t we, boys?’
‘Yeah,’ Charlie said blissfully. ‘I drank lots of wine.’
‘You had a sip from your father’s glass once or twice!’ Sancha rephrased, smiling indulgently.
‘It was really cool!’ Felix said nostalgically. ‘We had a pool and swam every day. I taught Flora to swim.’
‘To float, anyway.’ His mother nodded. ‘She looked so sweet, paddling around in a plastic duck boat. Did I show you the photos, Zoe? I must get them out later.’
‘I can’t wait. Talking of monsters, where is she?’ Zoe looked around warily.
At once alarmed, Sancha looked around too. ‘Boys, where is she? I told you to look after her.’
‘Under that bush,’ Charlie told her, pointing a stubby pink finger at a blue hydrangea covered in great, lacy heads of sky-blue flowers. Flora, in pink dungarees and a pink sweater, her red hair tousled and stuck with several of the bright blue flower-heads, lay on her back under the branches, fast asleep, her mouth open, snoring loudly, a piece of doughnut clutched in one hand.
Sancha’s face glowed with mother love. ‘Doesn’t she look adorable?’
‘That’s not a word I’d ever apply to Flora, but that’s how I like her best, fast asleep and not doing anything,’ Zoe admitted. ‘It’s when she wakes up and starts getting about that I get nervous.’
The boys grinned. ‘Me, too,’ Charlie agreed.
‘She always wants to play with us,’ Felix complained. ‘And she’s too little and keeps falling over, and screaming, then we get blamed.’
‘You’re the oldest; you should take care of your baby sister,’ their mother scolded, and the boys grimaced at their aunt.
From the barbecue site Mark waved, calling, ‘Come and help, boys!’
‘We have to be waiters,’ Felix gloomily said. ‘And give out the food to people. It’s boring.’
‘Off you go,’ their mother insisted, however, so they trudged off reluctantly, as if there was lead in their shoes.
‘So what’s the great news you mentioned?’ Zoe asked her sister, and Sancha beamed.
‘I’m going to start my own firm!’
Amazed, Zoe asked, ‘Doing what?’
‘Photography, stupid! I’ve taken a lease on a shop in Abbot Street, just behind the High Street. It will take a couple of months to make some essential changes to the shop fittings, so I’ll open up around Christmas, spacialising in children and make-overs.’
‘Make-overs?’
‘Oh, you know—a woman comes in wanting a photo that makes her look better than she usually does! Martha is going to do the hair and make-up; we’re going into partnership. When she’s transformed the client I take a series of soft-focus shots.’
‘You should make millions,’ Zoe said, laughing.
‘You may laugh. You don’t need a helping hand—some women do! I did myself a year ago, remember.’
‘Well, you don’t need one now; you look terrific!’ Zoe said, smiling at her. ‘And I’ll keep my fingers crossed your new venture is a huge success. Is Mark okay about it?’
‘Very supportive—in fact, he put up half the money. He insisted. He thinks I’ve had a brilliant idea and he wanted to back me. Mark’s very shrewd, too, so it was very encouraging to know he approved of my concept.’
‘Amazing,’ Zoe murmured. ‘The man surprises me sometimes. But then all men give you surprises, not all of them pleasant.’
‘Talking about men, where’s yours?’ asked Sancha.
‘Who?’ Zoe stared at her in bafflement.
‘Whoever you’re seeing at the moment—I told you to bring a guy.’
Zoe shrugged. ‘I’m not seeing anyone. I’m too busy for a social life.’
‘What happened to...was it... Harry? No, Larry? He was the last one I met.’
‘He turned out to be a bit weird, so I broke it off.’
Sighing heavily, Sancha told her, ‘Zoe, if you keep dumping men like this you’ll end up a lonely
