I nod. 'He's lovely.'

She swallows and shakes her head, as if she disagrees, but with a catch in her voice she says, 'He is a lovely man. I'll love him. Always. Anyway,' she says. 'Off I go to find Jean-Luc.'

'Mum -!' I say, light dawning. 'But that's silly, can't you . . . he's very lonely. I know he'd love to find someone again. Why not you?'

Mum takes the necklace out of the bag and puts it round her neck, adjusting it a little so it sits right, on the cerise and blue silk of her dress, the gold chain settling on her smooth, caramel-coloured skin. 'Darling, I used to think that, you know. But it's too late for us. Far, far too late. Like I say, too much history. My whole life's been about history. It's nice to start again with someone else, that's the sad truth. But I'll never stop loving him.' She opens her eyes wide. 'He's your father, apart from anything else.' And then she says, 'That's the only advice I'll ever give you. Don't leave it too late. Don't wish you'd done something about it in ten years' time. Do something about it now.'

'Now?'

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'Now,' she says firmly. 'I really am going. Goodbye. I'm very proud of you.'

Without a kiss, without any other farewell, she walks off. I stare, my mouth open, and sit back wearily on the stool, as if I've been awake for a week. I can see her leave, the bright colours of her dress like a peacock strutting through the sun.

'She's lovely, is that your mum?' Sara says from the stall next to me, where she's been watching everything, curiously. 'You've got a big enough family, haven't you?' she laughs. I stare at her, and then I laugh too.

'I suppose I have. How about you?'

'Massive,' Sara sighs. 'But I don't tell them where my stall is, that's for sure. First time I had it? I had my two sisters come and tell me I was putting all the stuff in the wrong place. Nearly killed them, I did. That's families for you, eh?'

I laugh shortly. 'You're telling me.' I stand up. 'Saz, can you do me a favour, can you mind the stall for five minutes?'

She nods. 'OK, but you do me when you're back.'

'Of course.' I wave to her, setting off at a run. 'I have to go somewhere.'

I run out of the hall and downstairs past the stallholders, out into Brick Lane, bobbing and weaving my way through the crowds of people moving slowly down the road laden down with plants, bric-a-brac, drinks. It is hot, nearly midday. I dart around them, dodge down the back of people's stalls, inhaling the smell of burritos, coffee, weed, spices and pollution that is in the heart of the city, a world, a lifetime away from Cornwall. As I run past Princelet Street I glance to my right at my old home, and I nearly stumble across an old Bengali man.

I turn into Heneage Street, only two blocks along. I am out of breath with ducking and diving and I stop to collect myself. There is the Pride of Spitalfields, tucked neatly away, with a knot of drinkers standing outside in the sun. One of them looks up at me, squinting. 'Nat?' It's Jay. 'Did you finish early?'

I shake my head. 'Can you give me a minute?' I say to him, still panting. His companion is standing with his back to me. It is Ben. He turns to look at me. 'Give her a minute,' he says. 'She's very unfit.'

'No. You, Jay,' I say in short bursts. 'Give me a minute. I mean. Go away.' I gesture for him to buzz off.

Jay looks at me like I'm mad. 'I'll get us another pint,' he says. 'What do you want?'

'She'll have a vodka, lime and soda,' Ben says immediately. 'And some water, by the looks of

her.'

I nod gratefully at him, and Jay disappears into the dark pub.

'Hey, Nat,' Ben says, his voice friendly but a little guarded. 'It's nice to see you again. Where's your mum gone?'

'Lunch with boyfriend,' I say. I stand up straight, finally having got my breath back. 'She said something to me. I thought I should come and say it to you. Because—' I breathe in, and then out. 'Because it's important.'

'Right,' Ben says. He moves a little way away from the drinkers, so we are standing in the shadow of the houses. 'What do you mean?'

'I mean - oh, well. Here goes.' I take a deep breath. 'Look. I know you're seeing Jamie. I saw you

248

two together, one night.'

'Hold on.' Ben holds up his hand. 'We're not together.' 'Yes, you are.'

'No, we're not. I snogged her, a couple of months ago, we were both a bit drunk. You saw us?' He blinks.

I feel like a stalker. 'Yes,' I say. 'I came back to the studio and you two were there. In the dark . .

'Les had that reading in the basement, do you remember? You couldn't go. Jamie and I went, it was . . .' He shudders. 'It was pretty hard work. All about a boy growing up with no fingers in Chatham and joining a gang. Jamie let me drink out of her hipflask.'

Domn Jomie with her cool hipflosk-toting woys, I think. 'There were drinks afterwards . . .' He is staring at me. 'We're not together, Nat. You of all people should know that.'

'But you were there today! Together!'

'No, we bloody weren't!' His voice is rising in exasperation. 'Is this why you were so weird, before I went away, the last few weeks? Man!' He looks furious. 'Listen. I arrive, I look round, she's arrived! It's not out of the realms of comprehension we'd all bump into each other at midday at an event to which you specifically asked us to arriveot middoy, is it?'

'Fine, fine, I get it.' I clear my throat. 'Oh. OK. So - you're not with her?'

'Believe me, it's at times like these that I wish I was,' Ben says slowly. 'But no, I'm not.'

'Oh,' I say again. 'What did you want to ask me?'

'It doesn't matter.' I wipe my hand along my forehead. 'Look - I'd better go back to the stall . . .'

He catches my hand in his. He's smiling. 'Nat, I'm joking. I don't want to be with Jamie. I mean, she's really sweet, but we're not at all right for each other. She doesn't like Morecambe and Wise, for starters. Now, again please. What did you want to ask me?'