He removed his trousers to reveal an elegant prosthesis that looked as though it had come from an Italian design studio – all curves, shiny metal and rubber absorption joints. A thing of beauty. A leg among legs.

'Wow!'

'Your uncle Mycroft made it for me. Impressed?'

'You bet. Did you keep the old one?'

'In the garden. It has a hibiscus in it.'

'What colour?'

'Blue.'

'Light blue or dark blue?'

'Light.'

'Have you redecorated this room?'

'Yes. I got one of those wallpaper books and couldn't make up my mind which one to use, so I just took the samples out of the book and used them instead. Interesting effect, don't you think?'

'I'm not sure that the Regency flock matches Bonzo, the Wonder Hound.'

'Perhaps,' he conceded, 'but it was very economic.'

I was nervous as hell, and so was he. We were talking about everything but what we really wanted to talk about.

'Shh!'

'What?'

'Was that Friday?'

'I didn't hear anything.'

'A mother's hearing is finely attuned. I can hear a half-second wail across ten shopping aisles.'

I got up and went to have a look but he was fast asleep, of course. The window was open and a cooling breeze moved the muslin curtains ever so slightly, causing shadows of the street lamps to move across his face. How I loved him, and how small and vulnerable he was. I relaxed and once more regained control of myself. Apart from a stupid drunken escapade that luckily went nowhere, my romantic involvement with anyone had been the sum total of zip over the past two and a half years. I had been waiting for this moment for ages. And now I was acting like a lovesick sixteen-year-old. I took a deep breath and turned to go back to our bedroom, taking off my T-shirt, trousers, remaining shoe and socks as I walked, half hobbled and hopped down the corridor. I stopped just outside the bedroom door. The light was off and there was silence. This made things easier. I stepped naked into the bedroom, padded silently across the carpet, slipped into bed and snuggled up to Landen. He was wearing pyjamas and smelled different. The light came on and there was a startled scream from the man lying next to me. It wasn't Landen but Landen's father – and next to him, his wife, Houson. They looked at me, I looked back, stammered, 'Sorry, wrong bedroom,' and ran out of the room, grabbing my clothes from the heap outside the bedroom door. But I wasn't in the wrong room and the lack of a wedding ring confirmed what I feared. Landen had been returned to me – only to be taken away again. Something had gone wrong. The uneradication hadn't held.