She was wearing a full skirt from Next and a pair of red suede shoes she had never worn before; every time she had put them on she had felt they were a bit too flash, so they were pristine, not a scuff in sight. It tickled Peter that she was making such an effort, even down to perfume.

When the doorbell rang Jane flushed, and he grinned. “Just relax, she’ll only stay a minute.”

Jane hovered near the kitchen while Peter opened the door. Joey flew into his arms, yelling, “Dad! Dad!” Peter swung him up and kissed him, then put him down, but Joey hugged his dad’s legs.

Jane peered at the door, expecting the ex-wife. First came a huge bag, large enough for Joey to stay two months, then a box of toys. Finally Marianne’s back was visible.

She spoke to someone who was invisible to Jane. “I won’t be a sec, darling!”

Peter’s face was like stone. He had not even acknowledged Marianne’s new husband, his old friend.

Marianne was wearing a short, frilly evening dress. Her blond, shoulder-length hair was the type that novelists describe as silky, a real shampoo advert. To Jane’s surprise she seemed much younger than her thirty-eight years.

“Hi, Pete, I’ve brought everything he could possibly need, and a lot he might not . . .”

Peter turned to introduce Jane. “Jane, this is Marianne.”

“Hi, nice to meet you, it’s good of you to have Joey.”

“Oh, that’s OK, nice to meet you.” She bent down to the little boy, who still clung to his father’s legs. “And you must be Joey? You know what we’ve got? Fish fingers, do you like fish fingers?”

“What else have you got?”

“Chocolate cake, you want some? Yes? Come on, then, let me show you the kitchen.”

She held out a hand to Joey, who shied away at first, but then he edged forward and gripped her hand tightly. “I got a new Revenge of the Joker mask!” he confided.

“Have you? Is that from Batman, then?”

Joey nodded. Anxious to get away from Marianne’s critical gaze, Jane smiled and said, “Would you like a drink, Marianne?”

“No, Steve is waiting . . .”

Duty done, Jane and Joey scuttled into the kitchen, but Jane could hear every word through the thin door. She showed Joey the cake box, opened it and reached into the top cupboard for a plate.

Marianne smiled and tossed her streaked, blond hair back. She leaned confidentially towards Pete.

“Pete, I’m pregnant.” She gave him a long, direct look.

Peter swallowed. “It’s not . . .” He glanced nervously toward the kitchen.

“Who knows? Anyway, I really appreciate this. You know what I was like in the early stages with Joey, I’m so sick every morning, awful.”

He pulled himself together. “You look OK!”