'And Simon's all right with this au pair thing, is he?'

Karen wiped Peter's mouth and replaced his empty plate with a bowl of mashed banana which she began to spoon into his eager mouth. 'We've come to an agreement. He's been complaining that the house isn't as spick and span as it was before, and he says he's fed up with convenience food although we only have ready-meals very occasionally. Adrey will do the housework and some of the cooking as well as taking care of Peter, so he could hardly argue on those counts.'

'Can you afford it?'

'As long as I'm working, yes.'

'And what about your privacy?'

'We're going to make the spare room into a bedsit.'

'And suppose you don't like each other or she proves to be unsuitable? Once she's here it'll be difficult to get rid of her, won't it?'

Karen had the grace to look slightly embarra.s.sed. 'As a matter of fact, she came over last weekend for that very reason and we all got along very well. She's a lovely girl, very practical and down to earth. And most important, Peter seemed to take to her right away.'

'I see, so it's all set in stone, then?'

'Oh, don't be offended, Mum. I didn't want to tell you until we were sure it was the right way to go.'

'Until you were sure it was the right way to go,' Susan corrected. 'I'm still not convinced that Simon approves of your plan. It doesn't sound like his kind of thing at all to me.'

'Well, it'll have to be and that's that!' Karen said. 'Anyway, I reminded him that if the spare room was occupied we wouldn't be able to accommodate Louise any more.' She smiled. 'It was my trump card and it seemed to seal the deal.'

'I suppose that means I'll have to put her up.'

Karen wiped Peter's mouth, took off his bib and lifted him out of his highchair. 'There you are, darling. Off you go and play for a while till bath time.' As he scampered away she looked at Susan. 'I had a text from Louise last week. It seems she got that part she was hoping for in this new musical show so I don't think we'll be seeing her again for a while.'

'A text, eh? That's more than I got not so much as a phone call or a postcard. Did she mention anything about Christmas?'

'Not a thing.'

'Well, at least that's a relief.' Susan stood up. 'I'd better be getting home. It's dark so early these evenings and the buses get full up at the rush hour.'

'I'd run you home but Simon's not in yet and I can't leave Peter.'

'Of course you can't. I wouldn't dream of putting you out.'

Karen shot a quick look at her mother as she walked to the door with her. 'Mum, please don't think we're not grateful for all you've done since I went back to work. I couldn't have managed without you. But you know, you're not getting any younger and an energetic toddler must be tiring for you.'

Susan bridled. 'I'm not ninety, Karen. If Peter had been too much I'd have said.'

Karen bit her lip. 'I'm not sure that you would. Anyway, you know what I mean, Mum.' She laid a hand on Susan's arm. 'You should be enjoying life making new friends, joining things.'

'Like bingo or a sewing circle, you mean?'

Karen chuckled and gave her arm a push. 'If that's what turns you on!'

Susan laughed in spite of herself. 'Well, I hope this new scheme of yours turns out well. But if it doesn't you know where I am. I'm not one to bear grudges. At least, not where my grandson is concerned.'

Karen kissed her cheek. 'Thanks, Mum. You're a real treasure.'

Susan queued in an icy drizzle for fifteen minutes before a bus finally turned up. As she climbed aboard, she saw that it was standing room only and she gave a resigned sigh as she grabbed a strap.

'Please, do have my seat. I'm getting off soon.'

A distinguished-looking man with thick silvery hair was easing himself out into the crowded aisle beside her. He wore a belted trench coat and carried a furled umbrella. Susan looked up into the smiling brown eyes and felt herself blush.

'Oh well, thank you very much but there's really no need. I'm not going very far.'

He inclined his head. 'I insist.'

Susan sank gratefully into the seat and smiled up at him 'Thank you.'

Although he didn't speak again, Susan was acutely aware of him standing next to her in the crowded bus and to her surprise as she stood up at her stop, she saw that he was already alighting onto the pavement. Turning and noticing her, he held out an arm to help her down.

'Please, allow me. Do you have far to walk?' he asked.

Susan shook her head. 'I live in the flats; Snowden House. It's on the next corner.'

'Then please share my umbrella. I'm going the same way. I'll walk along with you. You can't be too careful after dark these days.' He looked down at her with a wry smile. 'Listen to me! No doubt you're wondering why you should trust a man you've never set eyes on before.'

Susan felt herself blushing again and was grateful for the dusky half-light.

'Not at all. You're quite right and I'm very grateful. You hear of so many muggings and handbag s.n.a.t.c.hes that I don't venture out much in the evening, this time of year.'

'Very wise. I don't normally use the bus but my car is in for servicing today so I don't suppose you've ever set eyes on me before.' He smiled down at her.' I've noticed you on several occasions though,' he confessed as they walked along the pavement. 'I've seen you with a little boy in a pushchair, at the corner shop and occasionally in the park.'

'That's Peter, my little grandson,' she told him. 'I take care of him while my daughter is at work. She's a teacher.' Suddenly she remembered that her services had just been discontinued and added, 'Well, that is to say I used to take care of him.'

'Used to?' He looked down at her. 'But surely he's too young for school?'

'My daughter and son-in-law are getting an au pair; a Dutch girl. Karen, my daughter, thinks I'm past it.'

He laughed out loud. 'Good heavens, these young people! Past it, indeed. The very idea!'

They reached the corner of the street and the entrance to Snowden House.

'This is me,' Susan said. 'Thank you so much for seeing me home. There aren't many gentlemen around nowadays, more's the pity.'

He looked up at the small block of flats. 'It looks very nice but I'm afraid I couldn't bear to live in a flat,' he said. 'I love my garden too much.'

'I've only been here a year,' she told him. 'And I miss my garden too. One of these days I'm going to buy myself a nice little bungalow with a garden.' Remembering Karen's bombsh.e.l.l she added, 'Now that I won't be taking Peter out, I won't get enough exercise. I don't like going for walks by myself and I hate those jolly hockey sticks keep-fit cla.s.ses.'

'I run a gardening club at the local college,' he told her. 'I know you don't have a garden yet but you'd be very welcome to join ready for when you get one.' Reaching into an inside pocket, he took out a card and handed it to her. 'The details are on there along with my telephone number. Think about it and give me a ring.'

Susan stared down at the card, unable to make out any details in the rapidly fading light. 'Thank you. It sounds really interesting. But surely you'll be closing for the Christmas break soon?'

'We still have a couple of sessions to go. If you're interested you could treat it as a taster. No charge of course. Well, I mustn't keep you standing here in the cold any longer,' he said. 'Give it some thought.' He held out his hand. 'I'm Edward Mumford by the way Ted.'

Susan took the proffered hand and found it large and strong. A typical gardener's hand, she mused. 'Lovely to meet you. I'm Susan,' she told him. 'Susan Davies.'

Chapter Six.

The venue for the read-through was in a run-down church hall in Stoke Newington and I had a h.e.l.l of a job to find it. When I finally tracked it down, in a scruffy back street, I was fifteen minutes late, hot and out of breath. The door creaked like something out of a budget horror film as I let myself in, and the atmosphere of damp mustiness nearly took my breath away. I needn't have worried about being late. Paul clearly hadn't arrived yet. In one corner of the large empty s.p.a.ce, an a.s.sorted bunch of out-of-work actors sat on a semicircle of chairs next to an ancient upright piano; all of them half-hidden behind newspapers. They barely looked up as I entered and I didn't recognize any of them.

As I crossed the hall in my high-heeled shoes, my footsteps echoed embarra.s.singly on the bare floor and one of the a.s.sembled group looked up from her paper.

'Hi there! Are you here for the read-through?' I forced a smile at the middle-aged woman, taking in the tatty fake-fur coat and jeans. Her hair, an unlikely flame colour, was tied back with a purple scrunchie. She didn't look much like Jane Austen material.

'Yes. I'm playing the leading part actually,' I told her. What part could she possibly be playing? I asked myself. Although it was only a read-through, I'd made a special effort with my appearance this morning but she looked as though she'd thrown on the first thing she'd picked up off the floor.

'Really? Good for you. Come and sit down. I'm Carla Dean and I'm playing Mrs Bennet.' She looked me up and down critically and chuckled. 'Odd, that, isn't it? Seeing that we're obviously about the same age.'

I chose to ignore the barbed remark. 'Is there any coffee?' I asked through clenched teeth.

She laughed. 'Coffee? You must be joking, darling. Don't know if you've noticed but this is hardly the Ritz. I'm afraid you'll have to wait till after. I think there's a cafe round the corner.' Her voice was deep and throaty and she exuded a powerful odour of tobacco.

'Is Paul here?' I asked as I took a seat.

'Not yet.' Carla opened her bag and took out a packet of cigarettes. 'I'm going to slip outside for a drag.' She offered me the packet. 'Join me?'

'No, thanks. I don't smoke,' I told her stiffly. 'I try to look after my voice.'

'OK, suit yourself,' Carla said good-naturedly as she stood up. 'Looks as though His Lordship's going to be late.' She crossed the hall, her scuffed trainers making no sound on the bare boards. As she reached the door, it opened to admit a man. Everyone perked up with a rustle of newspapers, but when they saw that it wasn't Paul they relaxed again. As he came closer my heart gave a leap of recognition.

'Mark!' I said. 'Mark Naylor!'

His face broke into a smile. 'If it isn't little Lou Davies. What a lovely surprise. b.l.o.o.d.y h.e.l.l! I haven't set eyes on you since drama school. How long is it twenty years?''

'Nowhere near! Don't exaggerate.' I glanced around, hoping no one else had heard his crashingly tactless remark. 'And actually, it's Louise Delmar nowadays,' I added, lowering my voice.

He pulled a comically apologetic face. 'Whoops sorry on both counts.' He fetched a chair from the stack in the corner and sat down beside me. 'Well, this is a surprise,' he said. 'How did you get involved in this little epic?'

'In the usual way through my agent,' I told him. 'I'm playing Elizabeth.'

His eyebrows rose. 'The lead, no less. Wow! Good for you.'

'What about you?'

'Wickham,' he said. 'Not much of a singing part but then I'm not much of a singer.' He nudged my shoulder. 'So what have you been up to all these years? I must say you look as if you've done all right. Come on, tell me all about yourself.'

'I haven't done too badly,' I told him non-committally.

He glanced down at my hands. 'Married?'

'Good heavens, no! You?'

'Need you ask? You blighted my love life forever. After you turned me down, I never looked at anyone else.'

I laughed. 'I don't believe a word of it.' Mark had been besotted with me when we were at drama school used to follow me around like a lost puppy. I'd been fond of him too. He was always such fun, but he didn't have a lot going for him. He wasn't blessed with looks and he had neither cash nor influence, all of which were important to me back then. Well, still are. When he asked me to marry him and I turned him down, he insisted in his over-the-top, flamboyant way that I'd broken his heart. To be honest, I was never all that certain that he was serious. Most people thought he was gay, although I knew from experience that he most definitely wasn't. Once we left our paths hadn't crossed again till now.

I opened my mouth to answer him but before I could reply, the door creaked opened to admit Carla, accompanied by Paul Fortune. Feet shuffled and newspapers were hastily folded away as the rest of the cast came to life. Paul apologized for his lateness.

'Sorry, folks,' he said. 'Had a string of phone calls just as I was about to leave. Are we all here?' He looked round and his eyes alighted on me. 'Ah, Louise. Glad you could make it.'

Mark nudged me. 'Ooh! Looks like you're well in there, sweetie.'

'He saw me in a show I was in a couple of months ago and offered me the part on the spot,' I told him, ma.s.saging the truth slightly. 'We've had lunch together a couple of times along with Harry, my agent, of course.'

'Oh, of course.' He treated me to his quizzical, lopsided grin. 'You'll be telling me next that you haven't been to his flat on your own.'

I gave him my enigmatic smile. 'Just the once.'

'Snap!' he said with a flash of his sharp blue eyes.

I felt my eyebrows shoot up. 'You've been too?' I wanted to ask more but Paul was handing round the scripts.

'With your permission, I'll run through the songs for you before we start reading. Just so that you can get an idea of the melodies,' he said. He pulled a face as he lifted the lid of the piano to expose the discoloured keyboard. He placed his music on the dusty stand. 'I'd better apologize in advance,' he said. 'I've got a feeling this old girl isn't exactly a Steinway.'

'Or even a Yamaha,' Carla quipped. A half-hearted ripple of laughter went round the rest of the cast and I nudged Mark. 'She's playing Mrs Bennet,' I whispered. 'She thinks she's Judi Dench!'

Mark smothered his splutter of laughter behind his hand. 'Behave!' he whispered back.

The read-through went off reasonably well and when it was over, Paul seemed quite pleased.

'Sorry, people, but I'm going to have to rush,' he said as he crammed his music into his briefcase. 'I've got all your addresses so I'll post you a rehearsal schedule as soon as. Do please start learning your lines. We'll start working on the songs once we all get together with a decent piano. It won't be till after Christmas now. Have a good holiday, all of you.'

As we packed up our scripts I turned to Mark. 'I don't know about you but I'm spitting feathers. Do you fancy a coffee?'

He nodded. 'You bet.'

I glanced across to where Carla Dean was deep in conversation with another member of the cast. 'Quick,' I said, grabbing Mark's arm. 'Let's get the h.e.l.l out of here before we get stuck with her.'

We found a decent-looking pub and ended up ordering lunch from the tempting-looking menu. As we waited with our much-needed drinks, Mark took his coat off and for the first time I noticed his expensive, well-cut trousers and cashmere sweater. In our student days, he wore tattered jeans and T-shirts. As he reached out a hand for his drink, I also noticed the Rolex watch on his wrist.

'You look very prosperous,' I remarked. 'Have you been successful, or just lucky?'

He grinned and lifted his whisky and soda with a flourish. 'Here's to us, darling.' He took a sip and looked thoughtful. 'Successful or lucky? Mmm, I guess I've had a bit of both. I've had a few small parts in touring plays. You don't get rich on that but it was enough to keep me ticking over. No, the best break I had was when an uncle of mine died. He'd made a lot of money in his day out of pet food, would you believe. He'd never married or had a family and he didn't leave a will, so as his next of kin I copped for the whole shebang.'

'Well, well! Pet food, eh?' I raised my gin and tonic. 'Congratulations. Here's to my very own pedigree chum!'

He laughed. 'Nicely put. I see you haven't lost your razor sharp wit!'