10

Wednesday 7 — Sunday 11 May 1986

Chaite sometimes saw her mind as a safe deposit vault — a series of

discrete discreet lockable boxes into which thoughts and memories were sealed, never to be retrieved if that were the way it was to be. Thus it was that details of her accident were locked in a box within a box; in the outer box was the ‘official’ story; it was to this that she had access when needed.

Other locked boxes in her vault related to her intercourse with Colley. If anything had happened between them of which she should be ashamed, it would be locked in a box. And since no ‘official’ story would ever be needed, that box, if indeed it existed, would be unmarked.

He worked all hours anyway; that he should prolong his absences by dallying with her was untenable. Had she been able to see into the future she would never have let the alliance begin; now at least four factors intervened to deter her from stopping it.

1 She couldn’t deny that she enjoyed it.

2 Colley certainly enjoyed it.

3 Colley was the boss and she felt uncertain enough of the big world to want to stay at WEL — anyway, she liked it there.

4 Just as a soldier can shoot to kill in times of war, his finger would rest less easily on the trigger were he to know his adversary personally, for that would make him a murderer.

In this sense, Chaite was a soldier, not a murderer, for she did not know Colley’s wife and family; she had never met them nor, as far as she knew, had she ever seen them. Colley seldom talked about them — certainly in no way which made either him or Chaite feel uncomfortable. Thus it was that Chaite stayed at WEL and she and Colley continued to meet very socially.

On Wednesday, it being that sort of day, Libby had invited Chaite out to lunch. They had gone to the Cold Collation at the Four Anvils and it was by chance that Elinor, a friend of Libby’s, had joined them. Elinor was a partner in a firm of estate agents based at Addercote; having worked with James Sellis, Chaite and she had immediately hit it off. As a result, Chaite and Libby had taken an even longer and more enjoyable lunch break than they’d intended, and Chaite had been invited to a party at Elinor’s that Saturday night. Elinor’s cottage was in the middle of nowhere so Libby, by some spurious reasoning, suggested that Chaite should travel with her ‘because she knew the way’.

The cottage was indeed in the middle of nowhere and Chaite was glad that she had neither to drive, nor to follow directions from Libby the scatterbrained — who got lost a couple of times anyway. Furthermore, she thought, not having to drive she would be able to drink.

When at last they arrived the party was going quite loudly, the majority of people congregated around the drinks table in the kitchen. Elinor greeted Chaite like a long-lost sister, throwing her arms round her and kissing her ... not that this was anything but par for the course, for Libby got the same treatment — as did everyone else Chaite saw arrive.

education. She didn’t feel she could contribute much to that, so she drifted away to refill her glass and found herself in another group running down the NHS.

She was about to throw an hefty spanner into their works when the appreciation of the possible consequences of arguing with unknown people (she could imagine them all turning on her in some HM Bateman-like situation — ‘The Girl Who ...’) overwhelmed her and she drifted away to refill her glass.

It was at that moment that food was announced; thoughtful Elinor came up to Chaite and gave her a plastic picnic tray with compartments and a grip like that of an artist’s palette:

‘Here, you ought to be able to cope with this’

Chaite could — it was one of the best party tricks she had ever seen. She loaded it with buffet and moved away to refill her glass; then began to enjoy her food.

A young man sidled up to her with a paper plate and a glass: ‘My, you seem to be doing all right, where did you get that tray from? I always say you need three hands at this sort of do’

He didn’t seem to notice how Chaite was holding the tray, and she saw no point in confusing him.

‘My name’s Arden — I’m a graphic designer’

‘How do you do? My name’s Chaite — I’m a people person — that’s to say I’m in personnel’

‘That must be very interesting — meeting new people all the time. Where do you work?’

‘WEL’

‘Where?’

‘WEL — Wilkinson Electronics Limited. You mean you‘ve never heard of it? How refreshing. Where do you design?’

‘Oh, I’ve got a studio in Little Bygrave ... [he noticed Chaite start] ... do you know it?’

‘Yes, my sister Mercia lives there. In Rock Lane’

‘Not Rock Lane? What an amazing coincidence. We’re on the corner of Rock Lane. Where does your sister live?’

‘In the white house at the end of the lane — behind the pub’

‘Is she quite tall? With long … come to think of it, she looks extraordinarily like you, doesn’t she?’

‘So they do say. Do you know her?’

‘We wave at one another as she walks — trots — past’

There was a slight commotion as Libby, who had been standing nearby, seemed to crumple on to the floor like the yogurt-pot puppet as seen on Blue Peter. Chaite put down the tray, to Arden’s astonishment, and went over to Libby. Elinor had arrived, and her husband and brother. They decided to carry Libby up to the spare room. There was nothing Chaite could do — ‘Bang goes my lift home’ she thought. She went back to refill her glass, feeling decidedly otherworldly. Talking to Arden about Little Bygrave would be an easy option, but ordinary people who say ‘excuse me’ at parties are seldom able to start again where they leave off. She refilled her glass yet again, thinking that she might as well be hanged for a sheep as for a lamb.

Elinor saw Chaite standing uncertainly and pushed through the crowd to Genista: ‘Genista, you must come and meet Chaite’

Genista, who was being more than adequately flattered by an inebriated architect, once more wondered at the musts of meetings. Elinor steered her towards Chaite, shouting a potted history in her ear:

‘Lives near you ... works at WEL ... mysterious accident ... must know Colley ... Chaite ... this is Genista ...’

Elinor melted, leaving them wondering what to say after they’d said hello.

‘Hello ... can I fill your glass?’

‘Thank you — it’s here. Have you tried all these marvellous cheeses?’

‘I’m just about to — the trouble is, you need three hands ... oh!’

Chaite laughed: ‘People are always saying things like that to me — don’t worry’

Genista changed the subject: ‘I hear you’re at WEL?’

‘Yes ... most people are, don’t you find?’

‘Sooner or later. I expect you know my husband’

‘Do I?’

‘Colley ... hey ...’

‘Are you all right?’

A banal question. Genista produced a tissue from her reticule; she thought it might help. Chaite blew her nose rhythmically; an 0—6—0 tank engine. Genista had heard of her ... heard what? But, what was far worse, Genista was clearly very pregnant.

‘Quite all right now ... you’ve heard about me?’

‘Elinor gave me a potted biography before she introduced us ... are you sure you’re OK?’

Chaite was lying back on the sofa, shaking.

‘I need a drink’

‘Are you sure? Hold on’

‘Red ... please’

Genista pushed herself up, found a couple of likely glasses, gave a confirming Last-day-in-the-old-home through-squint at the light, and waddled off through the crowd to the kitchen. The inebriated architect still held sway, swaying. Now, he took no notice of Genista, who could hear him saying exactly the same things to someone else ... [‘... so I said to Rod, I said: "you want to take a leaf out of Owen’s book" ...’] ... as he had said to her. She shrugged to herself, searched for a bottle of red wine that wasn’t empty, filled her own glass with a grape simulacrum. Back to the sofa.

‘Here you are’

‘Thanks. What have you got there?’

‘Grape juice. I’m driving ... anyway ... [she patted her tummy] … Mmmm. Now are you sure you’re all right? What was it that Elinor was telling me about you?’

‘Oh ... I’m the people person ... [suddenly something dawned on her] ... what did you say your name was?’

‘I didn’t — Elinor did. It’s Genista’

‘Oh ... I thought she said you were her sister’

Suddenly, Chaite became daring. She indicated Genista’s shape —

‘Is that your first?’

‘No, we’ve two already — Nikki’s nine and Giles is just seven’

‘And where’s your husband?’

‘Colley? He had to go away this weekend of all weekends and set up some ponky semiconductor deal in Glasgow. Why it couldn’t wait, heaven alone knows. He always seems to be away these days’

Chaite winced inwardly.

‘Is your husband here?’ asked Genista.

Genista had another tissue at the ready. She was all set to explore Chaite’s marriage, but at that moment Elinor materialised looking conspirational: ‘Will you be able to take her home?’

She explained about Libby.

‘Well ... I was about ready to go ... [Genista patted the old excuse once more] ... if you don’t — she doesn’t — think it too early for her’

‘Would you like some coffee? I think there’s some on ...’

Genista knew it wasn’t anything like coffee time at an Elinor party; her ears filled with uncomfortably swelling chatter. She looked at Chaite’s glazed gaze and was certain that it was time to go.

‘I’ll just get my coat; did you have one?’

Chaite wobbled to her feet ... [‘No, I didn’t bring one’] ... and made apologetic thanking noises at Elinor.

‘Genista’s going to take you home’ said Elinor in a does-he-take-sugar sort of voice, seemingly having forgotten that that was why Chaite had risen.

Chaite was in a turmoil, but it was too late now not to go home with Genista.

‘All right then!’

That was too sharp; she smiled at Elinor:

‘That’s very kind of her; very kind of you, too’

She made her way into the hall so as to create minimum disturbance, pushing her way through the crowd, nodding ‘‘‘Good-night’’’s, acknowledging ‘‘‘Going already?’’’s, ‘‘‘Nice to see you again’’’s, ‘‘‘We must meet up sometime’’’s — conventions, some from people she’d never met, a remark in your direction, then turn back to the business in hand. The guest who leaves a party is as useless and forgotten as a solved crossword clue.

Genista was at the foot of the stairs, having sorted out her coat. Final pleasantries and kisses were exchanged. Off with the old and on with the new — the door shut just a little too quickly behind them as they debouched into the chilly, starry night, and the party went on without them.

‘Where did I park? ... [Genista fumbled for her keys] ... Where’s my quaint old half-timbered car?’

‘Here’s one ... ’ Chaite was elaborately inscient.

‘The key seems to fit; this must be it’ rhymed Genista.

She unlocked the doors and they got in.

Chaite couldn’t close the door. She got out unsteadily.

‘Silly me. The door’s stuck open — resting on something. I must be putting on weight. All right now’

She ungraunched the door and got in again. Stay silent; you’ll give yourself away. But does Genista know about me? She could be acting. Wasn’t she into amateur theatricals?

‘Have you ever done any acting?’

‘Yes ... why do you ask? Have you seen me in something? I was Dorinda in The Beaux’ Stratagem last month. The lump made it even funnier’

‘I did see it. "So — she’s breeding already" Was that you? You were magnificent’

Chaite was relieved, and looked sideways at Genista with warm admiration.

‘Thanks. I think it was good. Everybody said so — except The Telegraph’

‘Rushton? He doesn’t count. Bet he never even saw it’

She became daring again: ‘Where do you live?’

‘Chilton Crescent. Number 5’

Chaite knew perfectly well. The rose that must be tied up because it fell on people. The gate that needed mending. The lawn that wanted cutting. Must, need, want.

‘Colley loves it ... he says ... [That wasn’t Chaite’s Colley] ... but he never does much to show it’

That was Chaite’s Colley. Why was Genista telling her this?

5 Chilton Crescent. Genista swang into the drive and pulled up with practiced quiet. She got out, shut the door, and went round to release Chaite. Chaite looked closely at the looming shape of the house street-lit. Genista opened the front door; ushered Chaite into the sitting room where lights flickered as guns blazed over the stirring music of sun-baked plains. She snapped on a standard lamp, and snapped off the television. Silence reigned.

‘Do sit down’

Chaite sat down. Was this Colley’s favourite chair? Genista was bending over the sofa. An incredibly willowy figure in tight T-shirt and jeans slept en escargot, much to Chaite’s surprise. She uncoiled.

‘This is Fiona. She’s been baby-sitting. This is Chaite’

‘Hi’

‘Hi’

‘All quiet?’

‘Not a sound. I’ve been asleep’

‘Coffee?’

‘No thanks. Better be getting back. Do you want me next week? I’ve got second-year exams’

She picked up her books. To Chaite: ‘Night’

‘Night — Fiona’

‘Night — Chaite’

Fiona moved into the hall with Genista, discussing details of diaries. Money changed hands. Footsteps and doors. Genista returning.

‘Now, about that coffee. How do you like it?’

‘Black, please ... no sugar ... can I help you?’

‘No, it’ll only take a minute’

Kettle filling, cups rattling, some old washing up. Chaite looked hazily round the room. There were some pieces she would have been proud to own had she lived in that sort of house. Others she would have been ashamed to have bought from — or even to have given to — a jumble sale. Chaite and Genista went to different sorts of jumble sales. She was amazed at the precarious piles of intermingled LPs and colour supplements in the alcove. She was astonished at the tangled mass of clothing in a basket on the piano, arms and legs hanging from an amorphous centre, an enormous knot of knitted netsuke. But most of all, Chaite noticed the pictures, hung with expediency rather than taste, wherever there happened to be a space. Had she been less well brought up; had she felt less tired, had she not divined Genista’s imminent return — Genista’s domestic immanence, even — she might have risen and peered at the pictures. She didn’t. Genista returned with the tray: ‘Here you are then ... [She put it down] ... Can I help?’

‘No, thanks, I can manage’

Now Genista was flustered: ‘I’m sorry ... I didn’t mean ...’

Chaite laughed: ‘Please don’t worry. I’m used to it’

‘How ... ?’

‘It was a car accident. I was pushed off the road into a ditch late one night ... I was trapped, and by the time they found me, it was too late to save it’

She rather liked that one.

‘Did they ever find ... ?’

‘No’

‘So what happened?’

‘Nothing much. I learned to live right handed ... ’cos I was left-handed. So now I’m at WEL’

‘That’s clever of you. Don’t you find it ... ?’

‘Can you do that? I don’t understand it myself, though Colley tries to tell me. He says it’s easy, but ... "Come, my dear, we’ll talk of something else ... I’m sorry, madam, that it is not more in our power to divert you; I could wish, indeed, that our entertainments were a little more polite ..."’ Genista broke off, confused.

‘Go on, Dorinda. What’s happened?’

‘It’s rude — to you — "... our entertainments were a little more polite, or your taste a little more refined" Sorry’

Chaite laughed: ‘Don’t mind me, I love the voice’

Genista thought again: ‘"My lord has told me that I have more wit and beauty than any of my sex"’

Chaite winced and tried not to look sullen; to herself she thought: ‘"But I’ll lay you a guinea that I had finer things said to me than you had"’

Genista must have known this, but the significance of the line was lost. Chaite hoped.

They fell to talking of the play. Chaite asked: ‘Did you know that Farquhar’s original title was The Broken Beaux? And that at the time it was advertised simply as The Stratagem?’

‘No ... but perhaps it changed to The Beaux’ Stratagem because it helps to sustain the archery theme ... I’ve always wondered about that apostrophe’

‘Ah, yes ... Bows, Beaux’, Archer, Aimwell ...’

‘And Aimwell calls me — Dorinda — "the sharpest arrow in his quiver" — and did you realise that none other than Colley Cibber took the part of Gibbet the Highwayman when the play opened in 1707 — and the second night was his benefit night?’

‘No — how odd! Was your Colley named after him?’

‘I think there’s some sort of connection, but I’m not sure what. I don’t think he is, either’

They fell to talking of the parallels between The Beaux’ Stratagem and The Beggar’s Opera.

Colley paid off the taxi at the end of the Crescent to avoid waking his immediate neighbours — not to mention Genista. If she was back from Elinor’s party. But it was after one o’clock in the morning ... and Genista was heavily pregnant. She must have returned. Or perhaps Fiona was staying the night. Or perhaps ...

wearily his homeward way. He heard some unidentifiable ornithological sound. ‘I thought I heard an owl mope’ he said to himself; then laughed uncontrollably at the image of himself and Genista in bed, the Thurberian seal replaced by an owl.

There was the quaint old half-timbered car. And the downstairs light on. So Genista was back, but not in bed. She had returned from the party with a man. They were having a night-cap. Fear overcame hope overcame fear. He would storm in, discover them, storm out again, and go straight round to see Chaite. But suppose Chaite were out? Or unwilling to receive him? The sequence lasted but a few microseconds; he couldn’t countenance that ... could he?

He put down his cases, and crept up to the sitting-room window. But the curtains, which normally refused to meet in the middle, seemed to have cured themselves. He thought he could hear Genista talking. He thought he could hear the rumbling of a man’s voice.

‘Good evening, sir!’

He swang round, to see a caped policeman who had arrived, silent as the bat he resembled, on his bicycle.

‘Good evening ... officer. It’s all right — this is my house. I’ve just got back from Scotland, and I wanted to see if my wife was up so that I wouldn’t disturb her unnecessarily’

He got out his keys, went to the front door, and unlocked it. He picked up his bags and faced the policeman: ‘I hope that’s all right?’

‘Very good, sir. Good night, sir’

‘Good night. Nice to feel we’re protected. Good night’

What a relief; no point now in even thinking of going round to see Chaite. He went indoors with his cases, and stood in the hall uncertainly. He could hear Genista standing by the door, talking on as she did with her hand resting on the door knob. Who was this Captain Macheath she was talking about? The door opened. Genista emerged.

‘Ooooh! Darling ...’

‘Here I am, darling. Surprise, surprise’

‘Colley ... Why the hell didn’t you ...?’

‘Didn’t know I’d be back. Thought you’d be out’

‘What, at this time of the morning? ... [she remembered Chaite] ... anyway, I’ve brought someone back from the party’

Colley went into the sitting room: ‘Chai ... Kind of cold out ...’

‘Chaite, this is my husband, Colley’

‘Yes, we’ve met ... at WEL’

‘Of course you have’

‘‘How d’you do’’ they laughed at one another.

‘Sit down Colley, and I’ll get some more coffee. We’ve just been talking about you’

Genista went.

‘Was it a good party?’ Act natural.

‘Very good, thank you. How was Glasgow?’

‘Fine — was it a good party?’ Bis; flustered Colley.

‘Very good ... [she decided not to tell Colley that Libby had become incapable] ... Your wife, Genista ...’

‘That’s her name’

‘... was kind enough to bring me home for coffee when I was overcome’

‘Overcome with what?’

‘Oh, I don’t know ... just ... overcome’

Genista returned: ‘It’s just making — why don’t you sit down?’

‘Er ... yes’

Colley was still hovering about; Chaite sensed that she was sitting in his chair; she got up and moved to the sofa.

‘Don’t ... thanks’

Colley sat down in his chair. Subconsciously he heard the electric kettle click off. Genista went out to the kitchen; Colley leapt up again, excused himself and followed her.

‘I think she’s sweet ... [Genista, not telling on Libby] ... and she wasn’t feeling well so she’s going to stay the night’

Colley didn’t realise that this was Genista’s private idea; that it had not yet been put to — let alone approved by — Chaite.

‘Fine!’

He returned to the sitting-room: ‘I hear you’re staying the night’

Chaite was about to deny this, when Genista came in:

‘I haven’t told her yet, but she is ... [she said] ... there’s everything she needs in the spare room’

For some reason, Chaite felt unable to argue. And she’s rather looking forward to seeing that spare room again.

After coffee, which none of them really wanted, Genista took Chaite upstairs, and there it was — the spare bedroom with its green washbasin, matching flannel, towel and soap all in place; a nightie — long sleeves; thank you, Genista — and a dressing gown laid on the bed; the sheet turned down. Chaite was charmed: ‘"It’s very pleasant when you have found your little den ..." It’s beautiful ... what are these colours, by the way?’

Colley ... [she called downstairs] ... what are the colours in here?’

He came upstairs: ‘What?’

‘Chaite wants to know what these colours are — they look quite different in daylight — you know, their special names’

‘Oh ... [Colley looked Chaite straight in the eye] ... Morning sun and Forget-me-not’

There was a silence. Genista broke it: ‘"Well, my dear, I’ll leave you to your rest"’

‘I’m sure I’ll sleep like a log. What happens in the morning, by the way?’

‘Nothing much ... good heavens, it’s nearly three o’clock. Let’s wait and see’

Chaite did sleep like a log, until she became dimly aware of rustlings and children’s voices outside the door.

‘Go on, you knock’

‘No, you’

‘No, you’

This could go on for ever; she called: ‘Come in’

The door opened; Nikki carrying a tray: ‘We’ve brought you some breakfast’

Chaite sat up, keeping her left arm under the bedclothes. She felt like nothing on earth: ‘Thank you very much’

‘No, Giles, put that chair there’

Giles obediently put the chair by the bed; Nikki put the tray on it.

‘Thank you very much’ said Chaite again.

She stretched out her hand:

‘How do you do ... you’re Nikki ... you’re Giles ... I’m Chaite’

The children shook hands with the gravity of polite children.

‘I know ... [said Nikki] ... Last time I saw you, you only had one hand’

‘Is that why you’re hiding it under the bed-clothes?’ asked Giles.

There was no fooling children; Chaite uncovered her arm:

‘When did you see me last time?’

‘You were walking along with my Daddy’

Chaite, who had begun to feel better, felt sick again. Should she pursue this? She must know more: ‘Where were you?’

‘Going along in a coach on a school trip to the Zoo at Shalthorpe. And we went to the ruined castle at Marby on the way back. Where that big oak tree is’

‘I work with your Daddy — we do walk along together sometimes’

‘Why was he holding your hand?’

Chaite’s mind was in overdrive: ‘I expect he was helping me across the road’

‘Yes, he takes us by the hand when we’re crossing the road ... [said Giles] ... grown-ups ought to do that’

‘Yes ... [said Chaite] ... Have you been to the Zoo as well?’

‘We all went last summer. I liked the fish best. I want to have a quarium, but Mummy says I’ll have to wait’

‘My friend Sarah’s got an aquarium ... [Nikki getting it deliberately right] ... Would you like me to pour your tea for you?’

‘Yes please’

Giles considered: ‘Which of these little packets of cereal would you like? ... There’s All Bran, and Coco Pops, and Special K, and ...’

‘I’ll have the Special K. Would you like to open it for me?’

‘Yes. I don’t expect you can manage very well’ Serious Giles.

‘Silly — she has to manage at home’ Brisk Nikki.

‘It’s nice to be waited on for a change’

‘Where do you live?’

‘Primrose Cottage, opposite the church, overlooking the Market Square’

‘That’s not very far away — why are you staying in our house?’

‘I went to a party with your Mummy ... [that seemed like a stroke of genius in the circumstances] ... and she brought me home afterwards and invited me to stay’

Giles had opened the packet and managed to empty most of the contents into the bowl. He poured on the milk, and then offered the bowl to Chaite: ‘I’ll hold the bowl for you and then you can eat your cereal’

‘Thank you very much’ said Chaite yet again.

She pushed herself up and started to eat.

Genista put her head round the door: ‘I hope they’re not worrying you. Perhaps you’d better leave Chaite in peace’

‘She couldn’t eat her breakfast without me’ said Giles importantly.

Chaite saw no need for a discussion centring on her: ‘They’re being very sweet. I like children — my sister’s got four — two of each. A bit younger than Giles and Nikki. They live in Shalthorpe — where the Zoo is. So it’s nice to have these to talk to’

‘As long as they’re not worrying you. Anyway, I expect Chaite will want to get up soon, so then you must leave her alone’

‘Of course we will, Mummy’ Nikki, half disdainful.

‘Don’t you want us to help you dress?’ Giles doubtful.

‘Well ...’ Genista withdrew, looking like a doubtful mother.

‘We’re going to have a little brother or sister ... [said Giles] ... Did you see our Mummy’s tummy?’

‘Yes. When will that be?’

Nikki took over: ‘About the end of May, Mummy says. I’d like it to be a girl’

‘I’ve got one sister ... [said Giles] ... I think I’d like a brother now. Why can’t Daddies choose when they plant the seed?’

‘Perhaps Mummies could choose ... [mused Nikki] ... I’ll choose a girl when I’m a Mummy’

Chaite felt a bit out of things: ‘Perhaps it’s better to have a surprise. I think I’d like to get up soon’

Nikki took charge: ‘Come on, Giles. She — Chaite — wants to get up now. Put those things on the tray, and let me carry it’

A grave little procession left the room.

‘Good bye ... [called Chaite] ... and thank you’

Washed, dressed and armed, Chaite went down to find the sitting room a hive of silent activity. Colley and Genista were working on the prize crossword in the Observer; Nikki was sewing something for school; Giles was constructing something complex from his birthday Lego.

Seeing the domestic scene made Chaite realise with a jolt just what an outsider she was. Colley at work was one thing; Colley with her was another. Now here was a third Colley — perhaps the real one — the one upon which the other two encroached. Colley needed to be at work to use his technical and managerial abilities. At home, he had his family. With her, he was in a no-man’s-land; he ought to be able to do well enough without it. Thus did Chaite for the first time see her relationship in its true perspective — and she didn’t like the look of it at all.

Thank God Genista didn’t know. Or did she? From now on, her relationship with Colley must be strictly professional. Could she maintain this stance? She resolved:

Colley smiled:

‘How did you sleep — on a log scale one to ten?’

‘Oh, nine ... no, ten’

Somehow, without stirring, the family welcomed her into its bosom. But their very kindness made her feel even more of an intruder.

Genista stood up: ‘Now Chaite’s here, I’ll get us something to eat’

‘Oh ... you haven’t been waiting for me? That’s good of you — let me help’

She followed Genista into the kitchen:

‘You must think me an awful nuisance’

‘Not at all. Colley’s been telling me all about you ... [all about me?] ... you seem to have done a great deal for WEL’

‘I’m glad he thinks so. I’ve certainly enjoyed my time there. It’s only eight months or so, but I seem to have been there for ever’

‘Eight months? I wonder why I’ve never heard of you before?’

‘Perhaps I’ve only just started to make an impact’

Genista was scraping potatoes. Chaite surveyed the scene: ‘What can I do?’

Genista looked at her quizzically: ‘I’ll tell you what I need, and then you can ... Five plates from that cupboard there; we can either put things on them or let people serve themselves’

‘It’s a bit like last night ... God, was it only last night?’

Chaite felt half queasy. Genista came to the rescue: ‘Perhaps we’ll let people serve themselves’

Chaite got out some dishes and prepared cucumber, shredded carrot, radishes and spring onions. Genista conversed relaxedly and easily. She was getting to like Chaite, and was looking forward to developing their friendship.

Chaite sat at one end of the table between Nikki and Giles. Colley faced her at the other end of the table; Genista was on his right, next to Giles. Genista presided over the food; the children talked gravely to Chaite; Colley in the main kept silent, marvelling at the eutrapely. Giles sat watching Chaite surreptitiously, and practising eating with one hand. Suddenly: ‘What happened to your hand?’

‘Giles! ...’

Chaite looked teasingly at her right hand: ‘Nothing. Why?’

‘No, the other one’

‘GILES!! ...’

‘An shark got me ... [a pause] ... no; it was a motorcycle accident’

Colley knows, not necessarily that this isn’t true, but that it’s a new story. Genista is surprised, but keeps silent.

‘What happened?’

‘I got tangled up with a lorry’

‘Of course it did ... but it got better’

If you could call it getting better.

Nikki felt a need to help: ‘There was a girl at my school who broke her collar-bone, and she had her arm tied up for ... for ages and she soon learnt to manage’

‘Yes ... [Chaite serene] ... one does’

Any awkwardness there might have been was past, as Giles tried to imagine what it was like getting tangled up with a lorry.

Chaite thought rapidly: ‘What are you going to call your baby?’

‘It depends what his name is ... I expect we’ll know when he’s born ... certainly not before’

‘I’m named after my Auntie Nikki’

‘I think Giles is a horrid name — why did you have to call me Giles?’

‘Because Daddy and I liked it — it’s a very nice name’

How can Chaite help?

‘I’ve got a second cousin called Giles — I think he’s a very nice person. Stick with it; you’ll be OK’

‘Anyway, whatever the baby’s name is, he — I always think of him as he —’s all set to arrive on my birthday?’

‘Oh? When’s that?’

‘May the twenty-seventh’

‘That’d be a coincidence’

Colley’s not sure about coincidences: ‘Do you know how many people you have to ask when their birthday is before you’re more likely than not to get two the same?’

‘Three hundred and sixty-five’

‘One hundred and sixty-nine’

‘That’s pancakes’

‘A hundred’

‘Two hundred and twenty-two’

‘No, how many?’

‘Twenty-three’

‘Really? How’s that?’

‘Well ... suppose in a random selection of n days out of 365 — it’s only the month and the day, by the way; the year doesn’t matter — anyway, suppose in a random selection of n days out of 365 no day is counted more than once. The total number of possible selections is 365 to the n. Yes?’

‘Ye-es’

365 x 364 ... (365 — n + 1)] ... is that; the probability is ... [he wrote again: 365 x 364 ... (365 — n + 1)/365n] ... that. Now, if this expression equals a half, it’s as likely as not ... yes? ...’

‘... Yes ...’

‘... as likely as not that two of the chosen days are the same. So if we write [he wrote: (1 — 1/365)(1 — 2/365) ... (1 — (n + 1))/365n = 1/2] ... that, we can work out — take my word for it — that n into n minus one is five-0-six ... [he wrote:

n(n — 1) = 506] ... from which you can see that n is twenty-three ...

[n = 23, he wrote with a flourish] ... See?’

‘We don’t do sums like that at school’

‘I’d like to be able to do sums like that’

‘I’ll take your word for it’

‘I never was any good at maths’

‘Look, it’s quite easy ...’

‘Yes, yes ...’

‘Well, let’s take some birthdays ...’

They listed birthdays of people they could think of until they got to Genista’s grandmother: ‘My grandmother was born on November the fourteenth’

‘That’s the same as Prince Charles’

‘He’s not on the list’

‘No, but my sister’s husband Rupert was born on November the fourteenth. And in nineteen forty-eight, too’

‘That’s it then’

‘How many have we got on the list?’

‘Let’s see ... [Colley counts] ... nineteen. That proves it ... for this case, anyway’

Thus the meal returned to its magic.

When they finally rose from the table, Chaite was refused access to the kitchen; there was nothing for it but to doze in an armchair with a section of heavy newspaper. Now all the boxes in her brain — save that of the moment — were tight shut.

share, had it not been for the roses now bowing sarcastically at her from the fence.

When she got back to Primrose Cottage, she managed to avoid Mrs Primrose; she went to her sitting room, put on Beethoven’s Ninth, and poured herself a gin and tonic — not because she wanted it, but because she truly felt like drowning her sorrows.

If she hadn’t gone out with Libby, she wouldn’t’ve met Elinor; if she hadn’t gone to Elinor’s party, she wouldn’t’ve met Genista; if she hadn’t met Genista ... and Nikki ... and Giles ... she wouldn’t now be resigned to resigning.

And yet, it must all be Meant, she mused. That was why the Tarot ‘worked’ — everything was interlinked, and right from the very moment in which the universe had begun everything that would ever happen was laid down; the emergence and life of each particle was determined; the course of her life was there, the preparation and consultation of Mrs Primrose’s Tarot pack — well, everything. There was no free will. There couldn’t be. Could there?

‘But ... [she thought] ... suppose I hadn’t met Genista when I did. What might have happened then?’

Her mind boggled.

Sheltering in inevitability, Chaite felt a great burden lifted from her. And so it was that her relationship with Colley became strictly professional.