Lucas shrugged. 'I don't know. Not the kind of thing people tell children, is it? I think she's really missing him now - she talks about him a lot at the moment.'
'You're in touch with her?'
'Yeah. She lives just outside the village.'
'What did she do?' asked Danny. 'She must have been an actress. '
'She was a model first. She was pretty famous in the seventies. She used to sit for Thomas Parrish - that's how she met Patrick.'
'Are artist's models usually famous?' I asked. 'I don't know any, not modern ones. Apart from that big guy who used to sit for Lucian Freud.'
'Leigh Bowery,' he said. 'Well, she modelled for Parrish first and then she did photographic work, fashion stuff. I don't think she was tall enough for the catwalk but she did magazines and advertising, even a couple of films. She was one of the in-crowd, from what Patrick told me. Always in the gossip columns, that sort of thing.'
'Is she still beautiful?' asked Danny.
'I think she is, yes.'
He laughed. 'When can I meet her?'
The snow put us all in that heightened mood that unusual weather conditions elicit, a sort of excited siege mentality. After supper, there was drinking and dancing like we'd had on New Year's Eve. Michael, who was always better by Saturday when he'd had a good night's sleep, was dancing more flamboyantly than I'd ever seen him before. Perhaps no longer having to hide his sexuality from his parents made even his life away from them easier to live. He looked freer. Rachel and Greg were dancing with him to Stevie Wonder's 'Superstition', laughing and trying to match his moves. The chesterfields had been pushed out of the way and Danny was astride the back of one of them, flicking through the travel case of CDs, dispensing advice to Lucas and Martha, who were mixing complicated cocktails from a book of recipes. Lucas had been quiet for an hour or two after we'd watched the film and I was reminded again of how recent his losses were, even though he was determined not to bring everyone else down by talking about his grief.
I danced and drank Harvey Wall bangers, which he made for me and I discovered I liked. A little later on, as the alcohol began to kick in for real and things became less frenetic, I left the others beached in various positions around the drawing room and went outside. The snow had stopped falling and now lay as deep and clean as a freshly laundered duvet across the terrace and the garden beyond. Even though I had taken Lucas's big coat from the stand, the contrast between the temperature in the house and the night air came as a shock. My breath formed clouds as I crunched across the terrace to the balustrade and where I used the side of my arm to clear a space to sit, the cold against the bare skin of my wrist was so sharp it felt acidic.
I kicked my heels against the wall underneath me, feeling them swing out involuntarily as they bounced off the stone. The night was perfectly silent apart from the sound of it. There was no noise from the party inside and even the owl who had been mourning in the wood the first times I had been out here had packed up for the night. I felt completely alone, as if the world had freeze-framed and I was the only moving thing in it. I was suffused with a feeling of total freedom.
Suddenly I heard the sound of a door being closed, then voices, two, and stifled laughing. They were at the front of the house, whoever they were. 'Ssssh,' I heard, then more muffled laughter. A minute or two passed and I sat absolutely still. There was the creak of footsteps compacting snow. Around the corner and into the virgin landscape wove two figures, pulling together and apart, stopping to kiss each other and laugh with hilarious complicity. There were no lights from the house behind to give me away and I lowered my cigarette so that its burning tip was hidden. They walked along the path that ran fifteen feet below me, unaware that they were being watched, making a racket as only people who are trying to be quiet can. As the path reached the end of the side of the house they veered off across the lawn, still with their arms around each other. Only when they were far enough out from the house to give me some perspective in the patchy moonlight did I establish who I was looking at. It was Danny and Michael, leaving a double set of prints in the snow.
It was Martha's idea that she and I walk down together into the village for the papers the next morning. We borrowed boots from the row underneath the coat hooks in the passage and set off from the front door, slamming it hard behind us and making its stained-glass panel rattle. The sky was wide and opaque, a mirror for the snow underneath it, which was still unmarked apart from the tiny first-position prints of birds and the larger marks left by two pairs of trainers.
'Looks like people have been out already,' said Martha. 'I thought we were first up.'
'Hmm,' I said. 'Maybe they're from last night.'
I'd been thinking overnight about whether I should tell anyone what I'd seen. About twenty minutes after I'd gone inside the previous evening Danny and Michael had returned as well, five minutes apart, and then hardly talked to each other for the rest of the evening. They were clearly not prepared to go public yet. I found myself watching them minutely but they were very good. Their hardly talking was pitched at precisely such a level that no one would have noticed it. I remembered that Michael had got really drunk at Rachel's birthday a couple of years previously and confessed to me that he had a crush on Danny; perhaps it was reciprocated now.
'I didn't know anyone was in the garden.'
We were just rounding the corner of the drive on to the stretch to the village, out of sight of the house. The avenue was bridal. The snow had given the branches a look of white lace and everything in front of our boots was pure and untouched. It seemed a shame to mark it with our footprints.
Martha looked at me. 'I said, I didn't know anyone was in the garden.'
No, I decided, Michael would tell us when he was ready. 'I don't know that they were,' I said. 'Perhaps Greg and Rachel got up earlier for a walk in the snow and then went back to bed.'
The moment had passed; I couldn't now backtrack and tell her. And yet I wanted to talk around it, to talk to her about Danny and my unease about him. And now there was the question of how he would treat Michael. He was famous for his tequila-slammer flings: one shot and it was over. He was also famous for being wickedly unkind about his conquests.
'Marth,' I said, 'do people think I've started seeing Lucas because of all this?'
She looked genuinely surprised. 'The house? No. Why do you think that?'
'Just something someone said to me.'
'Who?'
I hesitated. 'Danny. After the thing with the car. I tried to talk to him about it but he turned it round and said that he should be protecting Lucas from me, given that I obviously considered him worth a pop now that he had all this money.'
Martha laughed. 'Oh Jo, he must have been joking. He wouldn't think that.'
'I don't know. Sometimes he's really odd about me.'
'Sometimes you're really odd about him. You're really hard on him.' An edge had come into her voice.
I was annoyed. I didn't like to think of myself as a harsh judge of people and I couldn't see what reason she had to defend Danny, especially against me. 'I'm not hard on him. You know what he's like.'
'Come on. Just give him the benefit of the doubt for once.' I said nothing and we walked on in silence for a hundred yards or so. Martha's response had irritated me and in a peevish way I was glad I hadn't told her about Michael and Danny. But I still hadn't decided whether or not I should tell Lucas. On the one hand it didn't seem right that I should know and not tell him, especially as we were going out, but on the other it wasn't, as Rachel had said the night I got together with Lucas, my secret to tell. After all, Danny and Lucas had been close before Lucas and I ever met; was it right that he should hear Danny's news from me?
We were coming on to the road into the village. Cars had been along it since the snow fell but only two or three and the individual tyre marks were still distinguishable from one another where the treads had printed out their icy pattern. The hedgerows were white and pillowy. If I were Lucas, would I want to know? Probably. But it still didn't feel right for me to tell him.
The bar, when Lucas and I found it, was off-puttingly fashionable. Round the corner from Danny's office in Wardour Street, it was below pavement-level and reached by rusty metal steps that looked as if they might lead down to a gangsters' hang-out or late-night poker den. My shoes made an attention-seeking clung-clung-clung as I descended. A bouncer with a shaved head and an earpiece pushed the heavy fire door open, giving us a quick once-over. Inside, a strip of mirror about two feet wide ran around every wall at face-level; it was disconcerting not to be able to look away from one's reflection. The air was stifling. Even early on a Wednesday it was busy and we had to thread our way between tightly packed groups to look for Danny and Martha. We found them lolling on a sort of low black bed in the far corner.
'Lucas, thank God.' Danny raised himself on his elbows a little to acknowledge our arrival. 'Are you going to the bar?' His eyes looked particularly blue against their kohl rims today.
'Hold on a moment.' I took off my coat, conscious of my suburban-hack get-up: knee-length skirt, pale shirt and plain jacket. Martha, by contrast, looked great in her best Seven jeans and the black polka-dot jacket that tied with a ribbon at the side.
'What do you want?' asked Lucas.
'Scotch.'
I went with him to help carry the drinks. When we returned, Danny was leaning in towards Martha, as if whispering a confidence. I wondered if he were telling her about Michael and was glad again that I hadn't.
'So, what's going on? Why the school-night cool fest?' Lucas lowered himself gingerly on to the edge of the mattress.
Danny turned to him and raised an eyebrow. 'I've been sacked.'
'What?' That was the last thing I'd been expecting to hear. 'Why?'
'I got caught doing coke in the lavs with a client.'
'You idiot, Danny.' Lucas shook his head slowly.
'What's the big deal? Everyone's doing it.'
'Well, if that's true, why have they fired you?'
'Because I got caught. There's a big difference between doing it and being seen to do it. I was just unlucky. It's a while since they've made an example of anyone. If they do this now and again, it reminds everyone else to keep their heads below the parapet.' He flexed his arm distractedly and watched the muscle bunch in it.
'So, what are you going to do?'
'Don't know. I'm screwed.'
'Surely you can get another job, especially with your reputation,' Martha said.
'Maybe, but I'm going to have to lie low for a while. The whole thing'Il blow over in a couple of months but until then I don't stand a chance.'
'But you've got savings, haven't you?' asked Lucas. 'You're covered?'
Danny laughed without humour. 'I haven't got anything, mate. Except debts.'
I was amazed. 'Debts? How?'
He turned to me with the sort of patient face that let it be known he was about to explain something I couldn't possibly understand. 'Jo, sweetheart, when you operate at a certain level, people have expectations of you. I've had to look right, for example. I couldn't dress off the high street.' He cast a disparaging glance over my outfit. 'Advertising is about image.' He turned to Lucas. 'It's mostly credit cards.'
'Jesus. How much?'
'Twenty, twenty-five. But that's not the pressing issue, as it happens. I was going to say something the other day. Mate, I've got to move out of my flat.'
Suddenly I could see what was going to happen. Danny knew that Lucas's flatmate had just bought his own place and moved out. A bolt of anxiety ran through me. I didn't want Danny at Lucas's. I knew that he would take him out every night and tell him that he shouldn't feel constrained by having a girlfriend. A jealous flower unfolded little petals in my gut.
'Why do you have to move?' asked Martha.
He pulled a face. 'Well, you know Stacie, my flatmate? She and I ... yeah, it's a bit of a mess. Don't know what I was thinking.'
'You can have our sofa while you get yourself sorted,' I tried.
'No,' said Lucas, and I saw it was inevitable. 'I've got a spare room at the moment. It's ridiculous for you to sleep on a sofa while I've got a bed going.'
Danny was doing a convincing job of looking like the thought had never occurred to him. 'Are you sure? Just till I get myself sorted out?'
'Well, let's see. If it works out, you could stay. We've never shared before. It'll save me looking for another house mate and it'll be fun. Go on, it's perfect. And I'll just carry on with the rent; you can start paying your half when you get a new job. You've helped me out in the past.'
'Lucas, really, that's beyond the call of duty but if you're sure ?'
Danny moved the next day. He had nothing else to do so he packed his stuff and got a cab across town. I worked late and then had supper with Martha so it was ten o'clock by the time I rang Lucas to see how they were getting on.
'It's going to be good. I can't think why we haven't done this before,' he said.
I didn't remind him that he'd once told me he thought Danny would be exhausting to live with. 'He goes out all the time and he'd make me go, too. His lifestyle is too erratic. I'm a lawyer, Jo - we can't do erratic.' If Danny with a job was erratic, I dreaded to think what he would be like untethered by employment. And then there was the question of money. Although Lucas was now in a position to help Danny out financially in the short term, I hoped that Danny wouldn't take advantage of him. I had to try to trust him not to.
Lucas didn't call me the following evening and, when he didn't ring until gone eleven on Saturday night, I was angry. We hadn't made any plans to go up to the country and I had expected to do something with him during the day. I'd called him regularly but got voice mail every time. All day I had been pacing up and down and constructing ludicrous scenarios in my mind. When I finally heard from him, he was drunk and calling from a phone box. I could hear a car engine idling in the background and Danny opening and closing the door to the booth, stage-whispering to Lucas to hurry up, he was getting cold.
'Jo? It's Lucas.'
'I know.' I picked up a biro from the telephone table and began to bite the top.
'Are you angry with me?'
I tapped the pen against my teeth. 'Should I be?'
'I'm really sorry, I'm drunk.'
'Why do you have to apologise to me for that? I'm not your bloody mother.' I felt an immediate flash of embarrassment as I realised what I'd said. 'Why are you in a call box anyway? Where's your mobile? I've been trying to get you all day.'
'I left it in a taxi last night. We went to a party in Clapham.'
'Whose party?'
'I don't know. A girl - a friend of Danny's.'
The end of the pen splintered in my mouth. I grimaced and picked the tiny shards of plastic from my tongue. I heard the door of the phone box open again. In the background Danny said impatiently, 'Come on, mate. He's got the meter running. You can speak to your bird later.'
'Jo, I've got to go.'
'So I hear.'
'Listen, will you come to dinner at the flat on Monday? Danny's going out and I'll cook something for us.' A softer note entered his voice and he was whispering so that Danny, presumably still agitating on the pavement outside, couldn't hear. Annoyingly, I felt my anger begin to dissipate. Bugger Lucas and his charm, I thought.
'What time?' I asked.
I took the tube to Lucas's after work. The underground was muggy and permeated with the smell of wet wool but outside again the rain had a hard edge. By the time I got to Lucas's building my chest was tight and I rested a minute in the dimly lit lobby to take some Ventclin and let my lungs recover.
When I reached the flat, the door was ajar. I stepped inside and pushed it gently closed. The hall light wasn't on but a warm glow fell from the kitchen doorway on to the carpet outside. I could hear voices, Lucas's low and serious and Danny's joky. 'Oh lighten up,' I caught.
I walked into the kitchen and put my bottle of wine on the counter, still wrapped in its twist of cheap tissue paper. 'Jo, I didn't hear you come in.' Lucas turned in surprise and pulled me into a tight hug. 'God, you're so cold,' he said. 'Let me feel your hands.' He took them in his own and rubbed our four hands together to warm my two. He kissed me gently on the lips but I pulled away quickly, conscious of Danny behind him, leaning against the sink.
'Don't worry, Jo,' he said with an amused look. 'I'm going out any second.'
I tried not to let my annoyance register. 'Doing anything interesting?'
'No, just meeting an old friend.' He finished his cigarette and half-heartedly stubbed it out on a side plate behind him. 'Right, see you later.' He winked at me.
When the front door slammed, I put out the cigarette, which was burning into the filter and giving off a chemical aroma that mingled badly with the delicious scents from the oven.
'Why don't you go and sit down?' said Lucas. 'Dinner's almost ready.'
The food was really good, even by his standards. I was touched that he'd made so much effort, especially after a day at work.
'Danny was in a good mood,' I fished.
'Hmm,' he said, non-commitally.
'He seeing anyone at the moment?' Had Danny told him about Michael but asked him not to tell me, I wondered. If so, I reckoned I would see it in Lucas's face.
He put down his knife and fork and looked at me. 'Jo, do you think I've got it in me to write? As a career, I mean? Like my mother?'
'Why do you ask?' I said.
'Well, you know. I'm not enjoying law and I've got enough money now not to have to do it. Realistically, am I going to stick it out for the next thirty years?' He took a large gulp of wine and I watched his Adam's apple plunge.
'But you're brilliant at it, partner by thirty-two, all that ...'
'That doesn't mean anything.' He ran his hands through his hair, pulling the black curls flat against his skull.
'Has something happened?'
'I'm just thinking about it, that's all. You only have one life. You might not even get a long one - look at my family.' He fixed me with a stare, challenging me. 'Patrick did what he wanted to do. He didn't do a job that he hated for years on end. He wanted to work with art so he did, even though my grandparents pressured him to have a profession.'
'It's a privilege of money,' I said, returning his hard look. 'You have more freedom to do what you want because you know that, if you screw up, you can afford to stay alive while you find something else.'
'But if you do have money, why not use it to follow your dream?'
I shrugged. I couldn't think why the conversation was annoying me so much. 'I don't know. It seems like a good idea.'
Lucas looked pleased with that. He stood up and cleared the starter plates. 'No, stay where you are.'
I leant back in my chair and reached into my bag for cigarettes. I lit one and sat with my elbow on the table, listening to the musical clatter of crockery and looking out of the window down into the street. The noise of the traffic was muffled by the time it reached the third floor. A car pulled up on the double yellow lines underneath and a man jumped out and ran across the road to the all-night chemist opposite, his scarf whipping behind him.
Lucas returned, bringing an Italian chicken casserole, polenta and a green salad. His mood seemed to have lightened and he chatted about a book he was reading. 'I want you to know that, whatever happens, I think you're the best,' he said, reaching across and putting his hand over mine.
I got up from my seat and went to stand behind him. I put my arms around his neck and bent down so that we were ear to ear. He smelt of herbs and very faintly of sweat.
'Nothing's going to happen,' I said. 'I love you.'
As soon as the words were out of my mouth I couldn't believe I'd said them. I hadn't planned to tell him that at all. I wasn't sure it was true. I had thought about it on Friday night and Saturday, waiting for him to ring me. I had tried it the other way round. If I didn't love him, I had wondered, why was I so bothered by his not calling?
His face was shining and he pulled me round to kiss him. When we moved apart, he looked at me seriously. 'I've always loved you. Please don't forget that.'
He returned to the kitchen. The fridge door opened and closed and more plates were taken from the cupboard. 'Do you want coffee?' he called out. I heard the front door slam. Now the sound of voices came from the kitchen, kept low. Danny. He was back early. I went through, carrying my glass.
'Danny. I didn't expect to see you home so soon.' I leant against the counter and smiled at him questioningly. 'I thought you were meeting someone.'
'I was. He had to go back to the office. We just had a couple of quiet pints.' He looked around him at the dirty plates and pans. 'But it looks like you've finished dinner now, so I haven't spoiled your evening too much.' Lucas was unwrapping cheese and putting it on a board. 'Cheese, great. Shall I open another bottle of wine?' Danny went to the fridge and took out my bottle of Prascati.
I tried to catch Lucas's eye but he was looking down, carefully peeling the wax paper from around a wedge of ripe Brie. Touching his arm, I waited for a response, some sign of annoyance at Danny's behaviour. He flashed me a forced smile and turned away again.
'Well, you might as well come and have some of this with us, Danny. You'll have to find another chair.' Lucas picked up the board and carried it through to the table.
With a theatrical gesture, Danny pulled the cork from the bottle and poured it. 'Cheers,' he said, bringing his chair up to the table. 'Now, who's for some cheese?'
We drank the white wine and Danny opened another. He was steering the conversation into areas where I couldn't contribute: old school friends of theirs, people they'd seen the previous evening. I was tuning in and out, irritated by his efforts to exclude me but also just not bothered to compete with him for Lucas's attention. Perhaps it was because he was an only child that he had never learned to share.
Lucas stood and got down the decanter that Patrick had given him for his twenty-first birthday. He poured out three large measures of Scotch. 'Jo, there's something we need to talk to you about.' He handed me a glass.