Something hissed in the oven, and Star went to investigate. Then she came back and sat down again.

Perhaps she ought to have a glass of wine. It might calm her down. But she liked to drink with him.

Why was she so nervous?

Of course, he was out looking for Tray.

He had intimated, although not exactly said, that Tray was with people who were dangerous.

Obviously, he wanted to do something. That was Nobbi. But what kind of trouble was he getting into?

She could hardly say Don't.

As if he would listen, anyway, if she said something like that.

It was half-past eight now. He had said eight. That would have given them time in the bedroom before she finished the dinner.

Never mind. There would be hours later. He had said he would stay with her tonight.

She liked that. She liked so much waking up with him. She brought breakfast on a tray. And they made love. They had bought a plastic duck which he put in the bath with him. Nobbi called the duck Charlie.

Star went into the bathroom.

"Hallo, Charlie."

Charlie smiled, the way he always did.

Stella splashed some cool water on her face and dried it with a towel.

Then she looked at herself in the little bathroom mirror.

Her appearance neither pleased nor dismayed her. Her eyes were too big, and her mouth, but her skin was good.

She came out of the bathroom. She put Bach's Goldberg Variations on the record player.

She did not want any wine.

But she was so nervous.

When he arranged to come he was never late, never more than a few minutes. Except once, half an hour, and he had called her from a service station, something with the car.

It was ten to nine now.

She went into the kitchen and turned the oven down.

Star did not often speak aloud to herself. Now she said, "Stop acting like some silly schoolgirl. He's all right. You would know."

And then, the phone rang.

Stella flew to it.

"Hallo?"

"Star?" Nobbi asked her. He sounded very far away.

"Nobbi, love. Are you okay?"

"Sure, Star. Yes. I'm fine."

"I was—I was worried."

"Sorry, Star. Yeah, I should have called before."

She felt a crash of disappointment within her, like a broken loft plummeting to the basement.

She governed herself, and said, neutrally, "Can't you make it, darling?"

"Star… No. No, I can't. I'm really sorry. I know you really go to town, it's a bloody shame."

"It's all right, love. What's happened? Is it something with Marilyn?"

"Marilyn? No. No, it's not that."

Star felt sick.

She sank her bitten nails into her palm. There were enough of them to hurt.

"What is it, Nobbi?"

"I found her. I found Tray. I mean, the place."

"Oh, Nobbi, where?"

"Well, I don't like to tell you, Star."

The dark of night breathed in on Stella's soul.

"All right, love."