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puff sleeves, her long blonde hair piled on top of her head and a rose tucked among the curls.

Lance was struck dumb with joy and longing. He could only gaze.

'Aren't you going to ask me in?' She stepped briskly over the threshold without waiting for him to answer. 'My God, what a pong. You've not taken up smoking, have you?'

Lance found his voice. 'It's Uncle Gib. He gets through fags like there's no tomorrow.'

'Probably isn't, for him,' said Gemma. 'Where is he, anyway?'

'Gone to a senior citizens' social. They're mostly seniors at his church.'

Gemma wasn't interested. 'Where's your room, then?'

An hour later, sitting up in Lance's bed, they started on the bottle of Cava Gemma had brought with her. It wasn't until this point that Lance came round sufficiently from his state of bliss to enquire who was minding the baby.

'Fize is. He's really taken to Abelard, says he's like his own son.'

This, to Lance, was like a jet of cold water in his face and enough to wake him thoroughly from his euphoria. Sympathetically, Gemma poured him more wine. 'You're going to give him the boot, though, aren't you?' said Lance. 'Get rid of him and have me back?'

'Ooh, I don't know, lover. Maybe one day. It'd be like awkward right now.'

'But you said . . .'

'My idea's much better. We'll have an affair, you and me. I'll come round here in secret. Won't that be great?' She looked around the room, curling her lip. 'I'll get this place cleaned up a bit. It's disgusting.'

'It'll have to be Sunday mornings when Uncle Gib's at church.'

'What's wrong with that? Mum'll have Abelard. She don't work Sundays.' Gemma brought her mouth to his in a long deep kiss. 'I've never had an affair,' she whispered. 'It's always been relationships everyone's like known about. Boring, really. This way'll be romantic.'

Another hour later Lance heard Uncle Gib come in. They'd have to be very quiet getting Gemma down the stairs. Faintly he heard Uncle Gib singing 'Jesus Wants me for a Sunbeam' and then the television started. Gemma got up and slipped on her dress and shoes with remarkable speed. Her hair had come down and she left it to stream over her shoulders. It amazed Lance that a girl could get up to what they'd just got up to – three times too – and emerge looking like she was ready for a photo-shoot.

Footsteps sounded on the stairs as they put their heads out but it was only Dorian Lupescu on his way to the top floor. He nodded to Lance and Lance nodded to him but they didn't speak.

'Who's that?'

'Guy who lives upstairs.'

'Hot,' said Gemma, casting Lance back into the depths.

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

Ella was looking for the key to the side gate. She had checked the hooks in the garage where various keys hung and glanced into the shed at the end of the garden. Keys were also kept in a drawer in the kitchen but it wasn't among them. She asked Eugene.

'In the lock on the gate.'

'No, it isn't. And it's not in the garage or the shed, or with the other keys in the kitchen.'

'It doesn't matter, does it? The gate's always bolted on the inside.'

'Yes, but I don't like the idea of that burglar having it and I'm sure that's who's got it.'

She wasn't quite sure. For a man with so many valuable possessions, Eugene was very careless about security. She hadn't been aware of this before she became engaged to him. It wasn't a character trait that affected their relationship. In the future she would see to the safety side of their living arrangements, so that was all right, but meanwhile where was that key? When she came to think of it, what was the point of the burglar keeping the key? He would know the gate would in future be kept bolted and expect bars to be put on the windows at the back of the house. Whatever Eugene might say, he had probably put the key in some unsuitable place in the house.

If she couldn't find it, she'd have the lock changed. That was only prudent. With no surgery that morning, she waited till Eugene went off to the gallery and began to search the kitchen. That was where it very likely might be, dropped into one of the many drawers by an absent-minded man who wouldn't think twice about getting it mixed up with cutlery or microwave operating instructions or teacloths. But it wasn't among