A wildlife photographer?

At once I know she’s talked to Suze, or maybe Luke, or maybe even both of them, about me having no job and feeling worried about it. And even though I’d make the worst wildlife photographer ever, I feel incredibly touched. Mum will never give up on me. Her basic worldview is that I can do anything. So I smile and say, “Yes! Good idea, Mum! Maybe!” and take about ninety-five shots of a shrub that we’ll delete later.

Then the drinks arrive and we sit down again. But all the while we keep glancing over to where Suze and Tarkie are still talking. On the plus side, Tarkie’s holding her hand, and she’s speaking very fast and volubly at him, and tears are running down her face and he keeps wiping them away with his handkerchief. Which I reckon is a positive sign?

The thing about Suze and Tarkie is, I think they both do want to be married to each other. And that’s quite a good start, for a marriage.

Then suddenly they’ve stood up and they’re walking toward us, and we all get in a bit of a fluster trying to look like we’ve been having a normal conversation, not beadily watching their every move and speculating about what it means.

“So, these red-rock canyons,” begins Mum loudly, just as Janice chimes in, “Super lemonade, don’t you think?”

“Hi, everyone,” says Suze tremulously as she gets near, and we adopt expressions of “surprise.”

“Oh, Suzie, there you are!” exclaims Mum, as though she’s been wondering where Suze could have got to. “And Tarquin too. Don’t you look well, Tarquin!”

This is actually a very perceptive comment. Tarquin looks totally together. His hair has grown back a little from the dreadful style he got in L.A., he’s wearing a sleek navy linen suit, and his jaw seems firmer than it ever did.

“Great to see you, Jane,” he says, bending to kiss her. “And Janice. I gather you’ve had quite a journey.”

Is his voice deeper too? And he hasn’t stammered once. I mean, he’s only uttered a few words, but still. Where’s the shy, stuttering, bony-headed aristocrat who used to jump if you said “Boo”?

I glance again at Suze, and she’s hanging back, as though she doesn’t want to be noticed.

“Suze.” I pat the empty chair next to me. “Come on. Have some lemonade.” Then, “Are you OK?” I murmur as she takes her seat.

“I think so.” Suze seems emotionally shattered but raises a smile. “We need to talk a lot. Tarkie’s so generous….” She squeezes her eyes shut a moment. “He’s trying not to be hurt, because he wants to mend everything. He wants to focus on your dad and that whole affair. But he should be hurt. He should be furious with me. Shouldn’t he?”

I survey Tarkie, who’s shaking Dad’s hand vigorously, his face shining.

“Excellent to see you again, Graham,” he says, and I can hear the pleasure in his voice.