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“No you can’t, it’s Mr Hardisty’s, and get downstairs, we’ll be late”

“I want to wave to Ed”

“You can wave to Ed from here”

“No, I—”

“Get DOWNSTAIRS”

Kyra’s hair was all over her face, tangled after sleep She was barefoot

“Shit, Kyra, can’t you do anything for your bloody self? … Where’s your hairbrush, where’s your shoes?”

But Kyra had gone to the front roo

Natalie poured Chocolate Frosties into a blue bowl She had eleven et Kyra ready, finish off her own face, find her stuff, o What had she been thinking I want to keep this baby?

“There’s Ed, there’s Ed …”

She knew better than to interrupt Kyra It was a

“Bye, Ed … Ed …” Kyra was banging on the

Ed had turned fro the front door Kyra waved Ed waved

“Bye, Kyra …”

“Can I coht, Ed?”

But the car had started Kyra was shouting to herself

“Stop being a pest”

“Ed doesn’t mind”

“You heard Eat your cereal”

But Kyra was still waving, waving and waving as Ed’s car turned the corner and out of sight What the hell was it about bloody Ed? Natalie wondered Still, it ht, if Kyra could wangle her way next door, to help with the plant-watering or eat a Mars bar in front of Ed’s telly

“Don’t slosh the milk out like that, Kyra, now look …”

Kyra sighed

For a six-year-old, Natalie thought, she had a diva’s line in sighs

The sun shone People called out to one another, getting into their cars

“Look, look,” Kyra said, dragging on Natalie’s ar round, look, it’s all pretty colours ”

Natalie slaain, slammed it for the second time, which hat she always had to do, otherwise it didn’t stay closed

“Can we have one of thes in our ? They’re like fairyland”

“Shit” Natalie screeched to a halt at the junction “Watch where you’re going, dickhead”

Kyra sighed and thought about Ed, who never shouted and never swore She thought she would go round tonight and ask if they could make pancakes

It was the sun, brilliant on the white wall, that woke Max Jaht the loft because of the light—even on a dull day the space was full of it When he had first brought Lizzie here she had gazed around her in delight

“The Old Ribbon Factory,” she had said “Why?”

“Because they made ribbons Lafferton ribbons were famous”

Lizzie had walked a few steps before doing a little dance in the middle of the room

That was the loft—one room plus an open-tread staircase to the bedroom and bathroom One vast room

“It’s like a ship,” she had said

Max closed his eyes, seeing her there, head back, dark hair hanging down

There was a wall of glass No blind, no curtain At night the la beyond the Old Ribbon Factory except the towpath and then the canal The second tiht to the

“It’s Victorian England”

“Phoney”

“No No, it really is It feels right”

On the wall at the far end of the room was her picture He had taken the shot of Lizzie, alone beside the lake in her wedding dress, her head back in that same way, hair down but this ti up and she was laughing The picture was blown up twelve feet high and ten feet wide on the white wall When Lizzie had first seen it, she had been neither startled nor ehtful

“It’s the best memory,” she had said at last

Max opened his eyes again and the sunlight burned into them He heard her

“Lizzie?” He flung the clothes off the bed in panic at her absence “Lizzie …?”

She was halfway down the staircase, vo

He tried to help her, to lead her back to safety, but her unsteadiness made it difficult, and he was afraid they would both fall Then she stared into his face, her eyes wide and terrified, and screamed at him

“Lizzie, it’s OK, I’m here, it’s me I won’t hurt you, I won’t hurt you Lizzie …”

Soot her to lie down She curled away frorowling Max ran to the bathroom and sluiced cold water over his head and neck, scrubbed his teeth, keeping the door open He could see the bed through the ain He pulled on jeans and a shirt, ran down into the brilliant roo hard, tense with panic, his hands sweating Like a bitter taste, the fear was in his mouth and throat all the time now

The crash ca in terrible slowwith one leg under her body, arht like a furious child

The kettle gushed out stealass door of the wall cupboard like fire

Max felt tears running down his face The kettle was too full and splashed as he poured it, the water scalding his hand

At the foot of the stairs, Lizzie lay still and the sound that came from her was the bellow of some animal, not any noise that she would make, not Lizzie, not his wife

Cat Deerbon heard it, holding the telephone

“Max, you’ll have to speak more slowly … what’s happened?”

But all she could round, were a few incoherent, droords

“Max, hold on … I’ now Hold on …”

Felix was crawling along the landing towards the stairgate, s of dirty nappy Cat scooped hi

“That was Max Jao Make Hannah help you”

She ran, zipping up her skirt as she went, avoiding his look

Outside, the air s round the paddock, tail swishing with pleasure Cat was out of the drive and fast down the lane, planning what had to be done, how she could make Max Jameson understand, finally, that he could not keep Lizzie at home to die