— I fucked someone really unsuitable, Grace confessed to Isobel on the bus.

— Who?

— This dirty guy, Dan, friend of a friend, met him at a party. By the time we got back to his place I’d sobered up and I didn’t even fancy him, but I couldn’t be arsed by then, going all the way home. Guess where Alex found me when he came to tell me? Isn’t that glorious? Heard the news of my dad’s death in the bed of a dirty guy I didn’t even want to fuck.

Isobel didn’t falter, the whole of her composure was dedicated to sustaining Grace, balancing her thoughts, making them all right – though she did wonder how many passengers on the bus were listening. — When you say dirty …

— I don’t mean dirty sex. The sex wasn’t anything special, as far as I can remember. I mean actual dirt, actually on his body. He smelled like he hadn’t washed for a while.

— In time you’ll come to see it’s funny.

— Oh yes, hilarious. Don’t ever tell Sandy, will you?

— I don’t tell Sandy anything.

— I don’t want him to know that I’m so gross.

— You’re not gross, you’re the least gross person I’ve ever known. You’re just – Isobel cast around for the right word – an adventurer. Everything you do is like an explorer, venturing into new territory. I wish I was more like you. I wish I wasn’t so cautious.

Tears squeezed out from under Grace’s eyelids as she turned away to stare out of the bus window; she looked desperate. — Does Sandy know? she persisted. — I mean, does he know about Dad? Has anyone told him? Is he still seeing that Italian girl?

Isobel said that her mother had called Sandy; he might be coming round that evening. As far as she knew the thing with the Italian was off. – Do you think he’ll come? Grace said. — Why don’t we phone him to make sure?

— If he can come, he’ll be there.