for so long without some culture rubbing off. You have Broadway, the Met, the MOMA …’
‘And the New York Yankees. Much more my thing. There’s more drama in a baseball game than in any Broadway play.’
‘Have you ever been to a Broadway play?’
‘Yes. Don’t look so surprised. I made it all the way through The Phantom of the Opera, and I’d only had two beers. I needed more than two to recover afterwards.’
He laughed, and it was impossible not to join him. This was good; this was normal. I hadn’t looked at or thought about his neck once.
‘What are you doing here?’
‘Mum gave me her ticket. She thought one of the family should support Leo.’
‘Did you hear him?’
‘I arrived just in time and lurked at the side.’
‘I didn’t notice you.’
‘No. You never did notice anyone else when Leo was around.’
That was true; or perhaps it would be more accurate to say that I had chosen not to look. Except once … but I mustn’t think about that.
‘I actually meant what are you doing here, in England. Audrey said you were coming over in the summer.’
‘I brought it forward. I wanted to see how she was.’
‘And how is she?’ I asked, poised to be offended if he suggested in any way that I wasn’t looking after her properly.
‘She’s great.’ He smiled, reading me far too well, even after all this time. ‘I knew you’d care for her. But you shouldn’t have to. She’s our responsibility.’
Briefly he rested his hand on my arm, softening the rejection that his words might have given.
‘I don’t give a stuff about whose responsibility it is,’ I said. ‘I do it out of love. You won’t stop me.’
‘Then we’ll do it together. I’ll be your humble servant, Mary Black.’
He clicked his heels together, and bent over in a deep bow, flicking a glance full of mischief at me as he did. Then his face and body straightened as he looked over my shoulder. ‘Hello, Leo.’
‘Ethan.’
‘Great performance earlier.’
‘Thank you.’
I swivelled from one to the other. They weren’t close – they were too different for that – but this clipped formality was new. Had something happened between them? Leo clearly wasn’t surprised to see Ethan here, although he hadn’t told me that he was coming home.
‘Mary, I’ve spoken to Clark, and we wondered about next Friday,’ Leo said.
‘Friday? Do you want to do something with the children? Because Ava has maths clinic after school …’
‘No, not for the children. For the dinner party.’ I had forgotten all about it. Leo had mentioned the dinner party at his book launch a few weeks ago, but hadn’t raised the subject since then. ‘You’ll be free, on a Friday night, won’t you?’
‘Yes, I suppose so.’ Of course I was. When did I ever do anything? Tuesday, I remembered with a jolt. I was going out on Tuesday too, on my date with Owen. Where might that lead? I brushed my hair off my face, conscious that Leo and Ethan were watching me. A memory raced into my head, only a snatch but so clear that I shivered, feeling again the cold night air, the soft rain tickling my cheeks, the heat of a bonfire on my skin, and the gentle touch of a hand brushing aside my hair …
‘Friday,’ I repeated, fixing my gaze on Leo. ‘That would be lovely.’
‘Come on, Daisy, you read the glossy magazines. What’s the dress code for a dinner party with your husband and his gay lover?’
‘It’s never come up in a magazine I’ve read.’ Daisy stared into my wardrobe. She’d been doing this for the last five minutes, as if by the power of her stare she could replace all the clothes with new ones. ‘When did you last buy anything new?’
‘1998.’ For a moment, I thought she believed me. Were my clothes that bad? ‘Stop pulling that face. You’re acting scarily like my mother.’
‘Not even Irene would wear this.’ Daisy pulled out a paisley print dress, which I had probably last worn in the difficult months after Ava’s birth, when I still thought the tummy and droopy breasts were temporary afflictions. ‘Do you have a wardrobe full of fashionable clothes in another room?’
‘What about the grey?’ I pulled out the usual jersey dress. Daisy wrinkled her nose.
‘To say it’s on its last legs would be a compliment.’ She rifled through the rail, which took about five seconds. ‘You do realise, don’t you, that one of the advantages of divorce is that you have an extra half of a wardrobe to fill with new clothes?’
‘I bought a new dress for Christmas. But Clark has already seen that. I don’t want him to think I only have one decent thing. And why do I need new clothes? I never go anywhere.’
‘This is your second night out in a week.’ Daisy settled down on the bed, making herself comfortable in a way that didn’t bode well. Sure enough, she began an interrogation. ‘Talking of nights out, are you going to tell me how it went with Owen on Tuesday?’
‘It was fine. Nice.’ Terrifying, if she wanted the entire truth.
‘What did you do?’
‘We went to the Inn at Whitewell and had a couple of drinks.’
‘That was a long way to go. Good choice though. Very romantic.’
‘Very private. He wanted to avoid any students or parents.’ Or any husbands or brothers-in-law.
‘And you had fun? It was a success?’
‘I suppose so.’
I removed my jeans and T-shirt, and took the grey dress off the hanger, ready to put it on. Daisy looked me up and down, and went over to the chest of drawers.
‘Have you no decent lingerie?’ she asked, rooting around my underwear. ‘Leo must have bought you some for Christmas or birthday presents.’
‘No. He generally bought books.’
Daisy held up a saggy bra and granny knickers.
‘Fond of grey, aren’t you? Please don’t tell me you still wear these monstrosities. Although those things you have on now aren’t much better. See how different it could look …’
She heaved up my bra straps,
