'I thought it might be someone wanting directions,' he said. Ginny ignored him, and grabbed the receiver. But Piers had got there first, on the upstairs extension in their bedroom.

'h.e.l.lo?' he was saying, in the carefully modulated tones he always used to impress.

'Piers? Alan Tinker here.' Ginny thrust the phone down and looked paranoically around the room to see if anyone had overheard the name. But the few odd glances she was attracting were not those of curious actors. n.o.body had guessed.

She stood immobile for a few seconds, balancing lightly on the soles of her feet, thinking light-headedly that their entire fate was being decided in this one telephone call. The thought almost made her want to laugh. Then, slowly, she began to thread her way un.o.btrusively through the crowded room, marvelling at her own ability to smile gaily at people, blow kisses, even spontaneously compliment some dim actress girl on her jacket. At last she reached the hall. Slowly, silently, she climbed the stairs, counting the steps to herself. At the sixteenth step was Piers and the answer.

She reached the top just as he reached the door of their bedroom. One look at his face was enough. He hadn't got it. He hadn't got the part.

A searing pain seemed to rip her stomach in two, and she smiled brilliantly at him.

'Well, never mind,' she said. A pair of tears forced themselves to the surface of her eyes. 'You didn't want that c.r.a.ppy job anyway.'

'No,' said Piers, 'I didn't.' He looked at her expressionlessly for a few seconds, then suddenly his face crumpled, and he gave a heaving, shocking sob. Ginny stared at him, aghast. 'I did want it,' he cried. 'Christ, I wanted it more than you wanted it. I was scared at how much I wanted it.' He sank to the floor. 'They gave it to Sean. The one they asked back. I f.u.c.king knew it. The b.a.s.t.a.r.ds.' He thumped the ground. 'Why did they make us wait?' Ginny crouched down beside Piers and took him in her arms. Another pair of tears forced their way out onto her face. She couldn't think what to say; what to think. All her thoughts, for the last three months, had been anch.o.r.ed in Summer Street Summer Street. Oh G.o.d. No. It couldn't be true. Another pain in her stomach made her double up.

'Ginny?' A voice made her head jerk up. Alice was standing on the stairs, looking worriedly at her, puffing furiously at a cigarette. Her face was deadly white, and her hands were trembling. 'Ginny, something awful's just happened.' Ginny looked up at her. b.l.o.o.d.y little Alice. The timing almost made her smile.

'I was in the garage-' Alice was saying.

'Alice?' Ginny interrupted brightly. 'I don't want to know, all right?' She crawled over until her face was close to Alice's. 'I b.l.o.o.d.y well don't want to know, do you hear?' Her voice rose to a scream. 'As far as I'm concerned, you can b.l.o.o.d.y well f.u.c.k off and die!' Alice physically jumped.

'What ... ?' she began in a quavering voice.

'If you hadn't been so f.u.c.king clumsy this morning,' yelled Ginny; 'if you hadn't come round here; if you didn't have such a f.u.c.king crush on Piers, then perhaps you wouldn't have ruined his audition! Now just go! Go!' And she burst, at last, into wrenching sobs.

Alice didn't hesitate. Her heart thumping wildly, eyes darkened in shock, she scrambled as best she could down the stairs, through the front door and out into the night.

'What's wrong?' said Clarissa in surprise, poking her head into the hall. 'Is something wrong with that little girl? Should someone tell her parents?'

Liz tottered into the house with a quailing heart, and went up to Jonathan with what she hoped was a normal expression on her face.

'I'm a bit worried about Alice,' she said, her voice shaking. 'Have you seen where she's got to?'

'No, I haven't. Has she been drinking too much?' Jonathan looked anxiously at Liz. 'Honestly, she is a silly girl!'

'No, that's not it,' faltered Liz. She looked frantically around. 'Haven't you seen her anywhere?'

'Excuse me!' A bright, blond, slightly pregnant baby-faced girl tapped Liz on the shoulder. 'Are you the mother of the little girl in the fringes? I thought you should know, she's just run out into the street. She looked a bit upset.'

'I'll go,' muttered Liz, and started to push her way past Jonathan. But he put his arm out to stop her.

'No, I'll go,' he said firmly. 'You stay here and enjoy the party. And talk to Anthea. I don't think you two have properly met, have you?' Liz stared, dumbfounded, at Anthea, who smiled vivaciously at her. 'Thank you,' added Jonathan to Clarissa, who waved her gla.s.s merrily back. 'I won't be long,' he added, and suddenly was gone.

Liz looked at Anthea. She had nothing to say to her. But Anthea was br.i.m.m.i.n.g over.

'Your husband is a genius,' she began. 'I can't tell you how wonderful he is. I've never seen anything like it. His patience, his sense of humour ... and he's so good at explaining things so that children understand them!' She paused. 'Of course, you know about our son's scholarship?'

'I heard,' murmured Liz, staring at the floor. 'Tremendous.'

'Isn't it? We're absolutely thrilled. Aren't we, darling?' Liz looked up in surprise, and through a horrified daze, saw that Anthea was gazing up at someone. And the someone was Marcus. And he was putting his arm affectionately around Anthea's shoulders, and bending over and kissing her as though he still loved her.

A black hatred settled in Liz's chest, threatening to break into heaving tears at any moment. She would stay for one more minute, she told herself, then go. But go to what? To Jonathan? To Alice?

'I've told all my friends about your tutorial college,' Anthea was saying. 'And lots have signed up. They all think it's wonderful. When I tell them about Daniel ...' She paused significantly. 'And do you do Common Entrance coaching too, Mrs Chambers?'

'No, I don't,' said Liz. She looked directly at Marcus's unflinching eyes. 'I'm not sure what I do these days.'

Jonathan found Alice running along the street, panting and wheezing and sobbing, with make-up smeared across her face, and a trail of cigarettes behind her. As he caught up with her, she was flicking her lighter frantically, swearing and crying out as the wind blew it out again and again.

'Alice!' he called as he caught up with her. 'Alice! Slow down!' Alice turned, saw her father's face, then burst into a frenzy of sobs. 'Come on!' said Jonathan. He hooked an arm round her, then when she had slowed down enough, put another arm round her. 'It's all right,' he said. 'Really. Everything's OK.' For a few moments, Alice shuddered silently against his shirt. Then she looked up at his face, and gave an anguished cry.

'Oh Dad! I'm so sorry!' Her voice tailed away into a wail.

'There's nothing to be sorry for,' said Jonathan calmly. 'It was a boring party anyway.' He grinned at Alice.

'But you don't understand!' she began. She looked around her, at the dark, empty street. 'Oh G.o.d! It's so awful!' A fresh stream of tears spurted from her eyes.

'What I I think is so awful,' said Jonathan, regarding the thin white trail of cigarettes behind them, 'is that you've been smoking for so long without telling us.' Alice gasped. think is so awful,' said Jonathan, regarding the thin white trail of cigarettes behind them, 'is that you've been smoking for so long without telling us.' Alice gasped.

'How do you mean?' she said, a note of resentment creeping shakily into her voice.

'I thought when Genevieve went away, you might stop. But obviously not.' Alice gaped at him.

'Did you know? All that time?'

'Subtlety, Alice,' observed Jonathan, 'is not your strongest point. The cigarette b.u.t.ts in the garage were a bit of a give-away.'

'But you never said anything!' There was a long pause.

'Just because you know something,' said Jonathan clearly, 'it doesn't mean you have to tell it to everybody. Or, indeed, anybody.' He looked at her. 'Do you always put your hand up in cla.s.s when you think you know the answer?' Alice shook her head mutely.

'Exactly. Sometimes you leave it to someone else. Sometimes you're not quite sure. Sometimes you decide the best thing is to wait, listen, and learn.' Alice looked at him. Thoughts were buzzing around in her head.

'Dad ...' she began, then stopped.

'Yes?' He looked at her anxiously. There was a moment's silence. Alice pushed a hand through her hair, and forced a shaky grin onto her face.

'Can I have a cigarette?'

Duncan went upstairs to find Ginny and Piers, and heard m.u.f.fled sobbing coming from their bedroom. Oh Jesus, he thought, realizing immediately what had happened. His face sagged, and suddenly his whole body felt heavy. Although he had never confessed as much, he had hoped and wished as much as they had. For a few moments, he stood outside the door, stupidly wishing he could go in; share his disappointment; give his commiserations. At least they had each other.

Then a sound from downstairs galvanized him. The party. No one at the party must be allowed to find out. He turned briskly on his heel, ran lightly down the stairs, and picked up two open bottles of wine that stood on the hall table.

'Who needs more booze?' he cried. 'Turn the music up!'

'Duncan?' Ginny's friend Clarissa was tugging sweetly at his sleeve. 'Do you know where Ginny is? We want to say goodbye.' Duncan hesitated only for a second.

'Well, between you and me,' he said, grinning wickedly at her, 'I think Ginny and Piers would rather not be disturbed just at the moment.' He winked at Clarissa, and she gave a delighted peal of laughter.

'Oh, all right then,' she said. 'Do tell them we said goodbye, won't you?'

Liz stayed at the party until Duncan started bringing in cups of tea on trays. Then, realizing how late it was, and with only a little reluctance, she gathered together her coat, her scarf, her gloves, and went out into the freezing night air. Her resentment against Marcus; her apprehension at seeing Jonathan; her fear as to what Alice might have blurted out; all seemed to have evaporated. She walked home swiftly and evenly, thinking that what she would do when she got in was make a mug of tea and put plenty of sugar into it, and sip it, warming her hands against the sides of the mug. Beyond that, she couldn't think.

But as she crept into the kitchen, she gave a gasp of shock. Leaning against the side, sipping from the very mug she had envisaged using, was Jonathan.

'Did you enjoy the rest of the party?' he said, in a low but friendly voice. 'You've just missed Alice. She was a bit tired, I think.' Liz stared at him as though in a stupor. Was he suddenly very stupid? Was he playing games with her?

'I suppose Alice told you everything,' she said, in a voice roughened by worry. Jonathan clutched the mug more tightly, but his expression didn't change.

'Alice told me nothing,' he said evenly. 'I don't think there was anything to tell.' He smiled. 'Now sit down, and I'll make you a nice mug of tea. With sugar.'

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN.

Two weeks later, Jonathan sat in Marcus's office and looked at him with a clear, enquiring gaze. Marcus met his eyes, coloured slightly, and looked away.

'It's very good of you to come in,' he said. 'Especially on a Sat.u.r.day. I can appreciate how busy you must be.' He paused, and his eyes fell on the local paper, open on his desk for reference at the display property advertis.e.m.e.nts. 'Did you see the piece in here about the scholarship?' he asked, picking it up and turning to an inside news page. 'Quite a nice item, I thought. Anthea's idea,' he added.

They both looked at the grainy photograph of a grimly smiling Daniel; at the headline local prodigy wins top award. 'I don't think Daniel was too wild about it,' continued Marcus. 'But I hope it's been some good publicity for the tutorial college.'

'It has, as a matter of fact,' said Jonathan, giving a small smile. 'I had no idea there were so many children taking Common Entrance in Silchester who needed coaching.' He looked at his watch. 'In fact, I've got a cla.s.s a bit later on. We're fitting them in at all times.'

'Oh, right you are,' said Marcus, abruptly closing the paper. 'I've got to shoot off myself, actually. But this won't take long. I just wanted to tell you, first of all, that Ginny and Piers Prentice have given notice on the house in Russell Street.'

'Oh dear,' said Jonathan, his face falling. 'That didn't last long.'

'Yes,' said Marcus, frowning. 'I'm not sure what the reason is. They've already left, with quite a lot of their stuff, and they're having the rest sent on. Some friend of theirs is sorting everything out. They'll pay the rent due in full,' he added hastily. 'But to all intents and purposes, the property is now vacant.'

'What a shame,' said Jonathan. 'I had gathered from my daughter that they'd left Silchester for the moment. She was rather upset when she found out that they'd gone.' His brow wrinkled. 'But I didn't realize it was for good.' He looked up anxiously at Marcus. 'We really needed the income from their rent, you know. How long do you think it'll be before you find another tenant?'

'Well, there may be no need for that,' said Marcus breezily. 'As it turns out, it's not such bad news for you after all.' He paused, and studied his fingernails for a few seconds. When he looked up, his face was blank. 'I believe,' he said slowly, 'that I may have found a buyer for your house.'

'What? Really?' Jonathan looked at Marcus in amazement. 'I'd almost given up on that front.'

'The buyer,' said Marcus steadily, 'is a foreign purchaser who wishes to make an investment in the Silchester area. I have advised him to make an offer of two hundred thousand pounds for the property.' There was a short silence. He looked up. Jonathan was gaping at him in astounded disbelief.

'I should add that the buyer wishes to remain anonymous,' added Marcus quickly. 'So all the dealing would be done with myself. If you were to find the offer satisfactory.' Jonathan recovered himself.

'Find the offer satisfactory?' he said, in an incredulous voice. 'My G.o.d, it would solve everything.'

'Good,' said Marcus in neutral tones, needlessly rearranging the pile of property details on his desk. 'So I can take it that you accept?' He glanced up. Jonathan still looked stunned. Unsuspicious, but stunned.

Marcus thought rapidly, then said lightly, 'It's been a very fortunate turn of events for a number of vendors in your position.' He smiled at Jonathan. 'This particular buyer is planning a number of purchases in the area. He wishes to take advantage of current depressed prices.'

'I wouldn't call two hundred thousand pounds a depressed price for our house!' said Jonathan. His eyes were faintly shining.

'Relatively speaking,' said Marcus smoothly. 'I take it the sale will help you out financially?' he added, in unconcerned, polite tones.

'I'll say,' said Jonathan. 'You may not realize it, but the tutorial college is mortgaged up to the hilt.'

'Really?' said Marcus. 'Well, then, this is good news.' He beamed at Jonathan.

'It certainly is,' said Jonathan in heartfelt tones. 'How can I begin to thank you? We thought we'd never sell the place.' Marcus waved a self-deprecating hand.

'Just our job,' he said, in professional tones. 'There is one other thing,' he added lightly. 'It may not be of interest to you.'

'Oh yes?'

'The purchaser,' said Marcus carefully, 'has expressed a willingness to let the house out. At very reasonable terms, if he can find the right tenants.' He paused. 'Before advertising it, I thought I would give you first refusal.' He shrugged. 'I don't know if you're interested in the idea. Perhaps you'd prefer to stay where you are.'

'I don't know about "prefer to",' said Jonathan, giving him a rueful grin. 'Try "have to". Until the business is really off the ground-'

'You may find that the rent is sufficiently low for you to consider it,' said Marcus. 'The buyer has expressly said that he values quality of tenant over rental income. He is, after all, purchasing the property primarily for capital gain.'

'Goodness,' said Jonathan. 'Well, I don't know. I mean, what sort of sums are we talking? Per month?'

Marcus got up from his chair. He wandered over to the window, and stared out at the courtyard for a few seconds. A lone daffodil stared bravely back at him. Then he turned round, and named a sum.

For a moment, he thought he'd got it hopelessly, disastrously wrong. Then Jonathan's brow cleared.

'Well, I'm not sure,' he said. 'But I think we might be able to manage that.'

'The buyer is open to negotiations,' said Marcus hastily. 'If necessary.'

'I don't think they will be necessary,' said Jonathan. He beamed at Marcus, and Marcus, after a moment, smiled back. 'I'm going to have to talk about this with my wife, of course,' Jonathan added.

'Of course,' said Marcus sagely. 'She might, perhaps, prefer to stay where you are?' he risked. Jonathan gave him a rather strange look.