‘I thought perhaps you weren’t coming,’ she said as he set her down. ‘I thought you’d be too busy.’

  ‘No, no.’ He squeezed her hand. ‘I’m never too busy for you, sweetheart.’

  Judith, Kester, Michael and Ben were sitting on rugs close to a little group of trees over to one side. When he and Daisy got to them Judith said, ‘Daisy thought you weren’t coming. I told her you would. I told her you’d promised.’

  ‘I didn’t promise,’ he said. ‘I told you I’d try.’

  ‘Did you?’ She shrugged. ‘Well, anyway, come and sit down. At least you’re in time to eat something.’

  He sat down on one end of a tartan rug which he recognized as having once belonged to the two of them – ­like so many of the things that were crammed into Judith’s flat. After the divorce and the settlement Judith had taken away her own things and then had gone through the house with a fine-tooth comb, taking whatever else took her eye. The judge had given her fifty per cent of the value of the house and, as she had interpreted it, her choice of its contents, which had turned out to be quite a lot. Robert hadn’t cared.

  ‘We’ve had hamburgers,’ Judith said. ‘You didn’t come, though, so Kester and Mikie ate yours. Still, there’s plenty of other stuff.’

  Looking at the spread on the cloth before him, Robert could see nothing that took his fancy. There was part of a cheesecake and a cream sponge, while nearby lay a packet of chocolate biscuits. The children were drinking Coke and lemonade.

  ‘Did you get your shopping done?’ Judith asked him.

  ‘What? Oh, yes.’ He nodded.

  She looked at him in silence for a moment, smiled at him, then said, ‘Well – ­have something to eat.’

  ‘No, thanks. I’m not hungry. I had something in a pub.’

  ‘In a pub,’ she repeated. ‘You’ll have some tea, though, won’t you?’

  ‘Thank you.’

  From a thermos she poured tea into a mug. As he drank he looked at her as she sat flanked by Kester and Michael. She was quite beautiful in a colourful, rather extravagant way. Her long, sandy-coloured hair hung down past her shoulders, thick and heavy. In her ears she wore large, gold, gypsy earrings, on her wrists an assortment of bangles. She had on a long skirt, a sort of wrap-around affair with a fringe going diagonally from the waist to the hem, and a light, magenta sweater over a white peasant blouse. Her legs were bare; on her feet were sandals. Her style of dress had so appealed to him once. But that had been years ago, when she had been younger, an energetic art student. It had suited her then, that kind of studied artiness; in a way helping to make up somewhat for what she lacked in actual talent. It didn’t work now, though – ­not on a woman of almost forty-one.

  ‘Oh, by the way, did you get my letter, Jude?’ Kester was saying, and Judith put one arm around his shoulders and briefly hugged him to her.

  ‘Yes, my darling, I got your letter.’ She turned to Michael. ‘And yours, too, Mikie. Thank you so much, both of you. They made me very happy.’

  ‘And mine?’ Ben’s voice. ‘And Daisy’s?’

  ‘Oh, yes, I got yours, too, thank you.’ She paused. ‘You need to work at your spelling, Ben, you really do.’ Raising a hand she brushed back the hair that had fallen across her cheek. As the bangles on her arm slipped down Robert saw the faint scar on her wrist. Residue of one of her token gestures.

  Kester, having finished the piece of cheesecake on his plate, asked for some more. Robert frowned. ‘Haven’t you had enough? God – ­all this junk food – ­all that sugar.’

  ‘Oh, don’t be such an old grump,’ Judith said. ‘It won’t hurt him. He’s a growing boy. He needs to eat well.’ As she finished speaking she took Kester’s plate and put onto it another slice of the cake. ‘And you, Mikie?’

  When the cake, biscuits, Coke and lemonade were gone Judith said, ‘Well, now – ­let’s see what else I’ve got for you all.’ She pulled a plastic carrier bag towards her, put in a hand and brought out some chocolate bars. She handed them round. ‘There you are – ­one each.’ As the children unwrapped the choco­late she turned to Robert. ‘I know what you’re thinking. But I can spoil them a little, can’t I? For God’s sake, I only see them once a month.’

  As the children ate the chocolate Judith said, ‘What would you like to do now? Go back to the flat or stay outside a while longer?’

  ‘Stay outside,’ Kester said.

  Daisy, pointing off towards the pond, said, ‘Ben and I have saved some of our cake for the ducks. Can we go and feed them?’

  ‘Feed the ducks?’ Kester said contemptuously. ‘Don’t be such a kid.’ He turned, looking towards the little thicket where Robert had sat to read his book. ‘Let’s go over there, into the trees. We’ll have some fun there.’

  When all the remains of the picnic had been packed away in the plastic carrier bags, Judith, Kester and Michael set off across the grass towards the trees on the other side of the road. ‘We’ll catch you up,’ Robert called after them. Reaching out to Daisy with his free hand, he said, ‘Come on, let’s you and Ben and me go and feed the ducks.’

  Ben, though, was already dashing off after the others. ‘Kester, Michael,’ he called, ‘wait for me.’

  They didn’t wait. Briefly turning to him, Kester said irritably, ‘No, you go on with Dad for a bit.’

  ‘But I want to go with you and Mike,’ Ben protested.

  ‘Well, you can’t. Not yet. Go on back with Dad.’

  After a moment Ben turned and reluctantly made his way back to Robert’s side, while Kester, Michael and Judith walked on across the grass. It was like two separate camps, Robert thought: Judith, Kester and Michael on one side, Daisy and himself on the other, and Ben somewhere in between, torn, not knowing quite where he belonged. ‘Come on, Ben,’ Robert said. ‘You come with us. We’ll catch them up in a little while.’

  As they walked towards the pond Robert glanced down at Daisy as she skipped along at his side. He thought of her as she had sat at the picnic beside Ben. The two of them had said so little. In their mother’s company over recent times their spirit often seemed to desert them. It was so sad, the way they appeared to become intimidated by her. Almost, she seemed to be becoming a stranger to them – ­though it was hardly surprising. Since the divorce two years ago they had seen a good deal less of her than had Kester and Michael – ­and before that time Judith had grown progressively more distant from them, even when they had lived in the same house. Now, the more it was happening, the more Daisy and Ben seemed to be retreating.

  It was not so at all with Kester and Michael, though. Judith had never stinted in her rather extravagant demonstrations of love and affection where they were concerned. And in the same way, Judith had never lacked for their love. Where they were concerned it seemed to Robert that their separation from her only served to make their affection grow stronger.

  At the edge of the woods Kester looked back. There was no sign now of his father and the others. He, Michael and his mother moved deeper into the shadow of the trees. One could hardly hear the sounds of the distant traffic; the woods were silent but for the sound of birdsong. This was the first time they had visited the common and the woods since his mother had moved into the flat. On the previous visits the weather had kept them indoors.

  ‘I bet you come here all the time when it’s fine, don’t you?’ Michael said. His mother shook her head. ‘You must be joking. I wouldn’t come to a lonely place like this. Not on my own, anyway.’

  ‘Lonely places are the best,’ Kester said.

  She smiled down at him. ‘I’m not so sure about that.’

  ‘I wouldn’t be afraid of being here on my own,’ Michael said.

  ‘I don’t suppose you would,’ Judith said. ‘And nor would I be if I had you two strong boys with me.’

  Michael moved on ahead, and a minute or two later Kester and Judith followed him into a little clearing with a huge, fallen oak in its centre. Michael had climbed up and was standing on its trunk. He grinned at them as they drew near. Crossing the clearing, Judith sat on one of the lower branches. Kester sat beside her and they watched as Michael began to climb up the slope of the tree-trunk. ‘Be careful, Mikie,’ Judith called to him. She turned then and sat with her hands in her lap, pale eyes fixed unseeingly on the trees and the shrubbery ahead. A woodpigeon cooed. Kester tilted his head slightly and looked up into Judith’s face. She had a faint smile on her face.

  ‘What’s up, Jude? What are you smiling for?’

  ‘Oh – ­thoughts.’ Her smile became a little broader.

  ‘What thoughts? Tell me.’

  ‘Well – ­I’m thinking about – ­us.’

  ‘You and me?’

  ‘All of us. You, me, Mikie, your father, Ben, Daisy. All of us.’

  ‘What about us?’

  She paused, then: ‘How is your father today?’

  ‘Dad? He’s all right. You saw him yourself.’

  She shook her head. ‘I’m not so sure about him, these days. He’s changed over the years. Sometimes he’s a mystery to me.’

  With a whoop Michael came scrambling down the tree-trunk, reached the leaf-strewn floor and then, with another yell, took off through the trees. Judith and Kester watched him until he disappeared.

  ‘What about us?’ Kester said.

  ‘Oh, I was thinking what it would be like if we were all together again. If I came home.’

  ‘Oh, Jude, could you?’ There was excitement in Kester’s voice. ‘Could you really? Sell your flat and give up your job at the shop?’

  ‘Job!’ she said contemptuously. ‘What job!’ She shook her head. ‘Oh, that’s all finished with. I’m free again now. Free as the air.’

  ‘Oh, Jude, d’you think you could come home again? Would you?’

  ‘Well, we’ll have to see. You mustn’t say anything to the others, though. Not yet. It’s too early.’

  ‘But Mike would – ­’

  ‘Oh, you can tell him,’ she said. ‘But not the others. Not until it’s all settled.’

  ‘Of course not.’ He beamed. ‘Oh, Jude, I so hope you do come home again. I want you to – ­so much. You always tell us that one day you will, but it never happens.’

  ‘Ah, but now I think it might.’ She touched a gentle hand to his hair. ‘You really would like that, wouldn’t you?’

  ‘Oh, yes! We both would. So much. Mike and I.’

  ‘Yes, you and Mikie would, I’m sure.’ She paused. ‘Is your father still seeing his latest lady friend?’

  ‘Netta?’

  ‘Yes, Netta. I see she gave Daisy a book.’

  ‘Yes. She’s always bringing little things for us. Little presents.’

  Judith raised one eyebrow. ‘Really. And for you and Michael too?’

  ‘Yes. We’ve had books from her. And stamps. That sort of thing.’

  Judith nodded. ‘How long is it now – ­that your father’s been seeing her?’

  ‘Oh – ­about three months, I think. Something like that.’

  ‘Three months. Well – ­that’s nothing.’

  ‘She’s coming round for lunch tomorrow.’

  ‘For lunch, eh?’

  ‘She’s come round every Sunday these past few weeks. She cooks lunch for us.’

  ‘Is she a good cook?’

  ‘Not bad.’

  There was a little pause, then Judith said, ‘Anyway, I’m not worrying about her. It won’t last.’

  ‘No, it won’t,’ Kester agreed.

  ‘No. She’s not the first, is she.’ It wasn’t a question. ‘Since I left, I mean.’

  ‘Oh, no. There was that woman from the bank. That stupid Linda. And somebody else. Margaret. I forget her other name.’

  ‘Oh, yes, Margaret. A secretary or something, wasn’t she? I remember you telling me.’

  ‘Yes. She was really stupid. Really pathetic.’

  ‘They didn’t last long, did they?’

  ‘No. I think he only went out with them a few times.’ Kester paused. ‘Mind you, he’s been seeing her a lot. This one.’

  ‘Even so – ­she won’t last either, this – ­Netta – ­whatever her name is.’ Judith shook her head. ‘No, I’m not concerned about her. I have a feeling about these things, and I have a feeling that everything’s going to be all right for us. I can tell. I’ve got an inner sense.’

  ‘Have you?’

  ‘Yes, oh, yes.’ She gazed at him for a moment in silence then wrapped her arms around him, drew him to her and kissed him on the forehead. ‘Oh, Kester, my dear, I love you so much. It’s kept me going through all these – ­these difficult times – ­knowing that I have you.’

  ‘You’ll always have me,’ he said. ‘Always.’

  There came a noise from among the trees and the next moment Michael was coming towards them across the clearing. Breathlessly he threw himself down at Judith’s side. She turned to him. ‘And will I always have you, too?’ she said.

  He gazed at her, not understanding. Kester spoke up. ‘Yes, you will,’ he said. ‘You’ll have Mike, too. You’ll have us both, whatever happens. And we’ll be together – ­for always.’

  She held them both to her. ‘Yes,’ she said, ‘we’ll be together, for always.’ She grinned from one to the other. ‘And, a little bird tells me, perhaps that time isn’t too far away.’

  TWO

  ‘Ah, here you are,’ Robert said.

  Judith and the boys looked around as he and Ben and Daisy approached from the shelter of the trees. ‘Did you feed the ducks?’ Judith asked.

  ‘Yes, we did. And Daisy picked you some flowers.’

  At his words Daisy went to her mother and held out a little bunch of wild flowers: yellow pimpernel, ox-eyed daisies. Judith thanked her and lifted them to her nose. ‘Thank you, darling, they’re lovely.’

  Robert looked at his watch.

  ‘Time for them to go, is it?’ Judith said.

  ‘Yes, it will be by the time we’ve taken all the stuff back to your flat.’

  When Kester and Michael had gathered up the bags they all set off back through the thicket. As they emerged onto the open ground Judith said eagerly, glancing off to the right, ‘Oh, there’s something I want to show you boys before you go.’

  ‘What’s that?’ Michael asked.

  ‘You’ll see. Come with me.’

  Turning, she led the way over the grass towards the houses and flats that bordered the common’s edge. The others followed after her. She stopped before a large, rather baroque-looking Victorian house with sandy-coloured walls. Robert, looking up at its turrets, thought how out of place it looked hemmed in as it was by the ugly redbrick blocks of flats. ‘What’s so special about it?’ he said.

  ‘It’s The Priory.’

  ‘The Priory?’

  ‘The Priory. Don’t you know your criminal history?’

  ‘Oh, is it the scene of some famous crime?’ And then he nodded. ‘Oh, yes, The Priory. Of course. Charles Bravo.’

  ‘Right. The Bravo mystery. One of the great classic murders in England’s history.’

  Robert nodded again. ‘Charles Bravo, handsome young barrister, married to a beautiful woman with a past. Isn’t that it?’

  ‘That’s it.’

  Kester said quickly, ‘What happened, Jude? Tell us what happened.’

  ‘Oh, very mysterious doings,’ she said with a touch of relish. ‘He was poisoned one night. It happened about a hundred years ago.’

  ‘Who did it? Who poisoned him?’

  ‘Ah, that was never discovered. It might have been his wife. Someone in the house, certainly. But whoever did poor Charlie in got off scot-free. Terrible thought, isn’t it – ­someone you love and trust creeping into your room at night and putting poison into your drinking water. After he’d taken the poison he opened the window and threw up all over the leads of the roof below. The doctors had to scrape it up, the vomit, and put it into jam jars.’

  Robert, growing increasingly irritated throughout her discourse, said sharply, ‘For God’s sake, Judith, I don’t think you need to keep on about such a morbid, sickening happening. Remember your audience.’

  Frowning, she whipped her head around, as if she would make some sharp retort, but then her expression changed and she said simply, ‘My two boys are sensible boys. It won’t give them bad dreams.’

  ‘You haven’t only got your two boys here,’ Robert said. ‘You’ve got your three boys here – ­and your small daughter – ­or had you forgotten?’

  Judith was silent for a moment, then, stepping closer to him, she said with a tight little smile, ‘I’ve only got one thing to say to you.’ She put her mouth close to his ear. ‘Fuck you, Robert,’ she murmured.

  When the rugs and the remains of the picnic had been deposited at Judith’s flat Robert brought the car around to the front entrance. Judith was saying her goodbyes to the children. On the front path Robert stood watching. First Daisy and Ben, brisk and no-nonsense, and then Michael and Kester, lingering, with many hugs and kisses; the pattern as usual. When the final goodbye had been said Robert ushered the children into the car. He turned then to Judith who had followed them out and now stood on the pavement. ‘Well, so long, Judith.’

  She said quickly, ‘Robbie, I want to talk to you for a second.’

  Robbie. She had used to call him that in earlier times. Now it sounded off-key after everything that had happened.

  ‘What about?’ He was aware of his frown of irritation. Whatever it was, why couldn’t she have brought it up earlier? Why wait till now when he was anxious to get away? He stood waiting.

  ‘Not here,’ she said. ‘Inside.’

  He sighed. ‘I’ve got the children settled and – ­’

  ‘It won’t take a minute. Please.’

  He nodded reluctantly, bent to murmur a few words to the children, telling them to stay put, then followed Judith back into the flat.