Marcus blew out a swirl of smoke and then looked at her again. She was still brushing her hair, looking at herself in the many mirrors strategically placed around the walls. He could see about twenty Davinias, from all angles.

‘Is that right, Davinia? It must be expensive if you can’t afford it.’

She looked at him then, fully.

‘We could be together there, more often. Without all the other girls knowing about it.’

Marcus cleared his throat and looked around for the ashtray. He put his cigarette out and stood up, his body still lean and firm, even at his age.

‘Listen, Davinia love, I don’t want a permanent relationship, I told you that at the outset. I have a wife and two children...’

Davinia walked to him, her breasts wobbling seductively. She put her hands on to his shoulders and looked into his eyes.

That was when pandemonium broke out.

They both heard the screaming and shouting and looked at one another in shock and consternation. Marcus made a grab for his trousers, thinking one of the customers or the girls was getting out of order, when the bedroom door banged open.

Marcus had never felt so shocked in all his life as when he saw Bernadette standing in that room with two suitcases. She looked at him and then at Davinia. He was in the process of putting on his trousers and stood there with them half up his legs, his mouth open in astonishment.

Dropping the cases, Bernadette pulled herself straight. Looking at the two of them, she said loudly, ‘You want him, darlin’, you can have him. Washing and all!’

Behind her women and girls of all shapes, sizes, colours and creeds watched the show with glee.

Giving Marcus and Davinia one last look of contempt, Bernadette walked from the room, pushing through the assembled women with every ounce of dignity she could command.

The day of Rosalee’s funeral dawned cold. It had begun to snow again during the night, and the streets were covered with a glistening whiteness, which hid the black greasy slush beneath. As they all stood around the graveside, Briony looked at her family and felt a chill of apprehension. She looked at her mother and Abel, both white-faced and tight-lipped. She knew Rosalee would be missed by her mother, missed dreadfully.

She looked at Kerry, flanked either side by Evander and Liselle, her face, even at this early hour, showing the signs of drunkenness. Well, Kerry was going away in the New Year whether she liked it or not. She would drink herself to death otherwise. Briony guessed shrewdly that once Evander returned to the States Kerry would be happier. It had all worked out wrong for her. The knowledge of his real reason for arriving on her doorstep had broken her. Liselle, though, seemed happier to have her father nearby. She had spoken of going out to see him in America.