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as though he were her property; something she had created herself. It made him uneasy. It was an aspect of marriage which he hadn’t anticipated and didn’t feel comfortable with – a kind of invasion.
    ‘I proposed to your mother on one knee by the light of a flaming church,’ Peter said, giving up the unequal struggle with Madagascar and attempting a takeover, ‘during the Blitz.’
    ‘You did no such thing!’ Hope said, suddenly relinquishing her gaze on the garden, which was now too dark to see anyway. She faced her husband accusingly. ‘It was in your mother’s scullery. You were home on leave with a hernia!’ She turned crossly to Duncan. ‘I do wish you wouldn’t encourage the dog, Duncan. It makes her such a pest.’
    ‘She’s always been g-greedy,’ Duncan said mildly. ‘Haven’tyou, Hicky?’ He rubbed her under her chin, and she closed her eyes in rapture.
    ‘Your ma thinks she’s in pup,’ Peter said. ‘She got out.’
    ‘G-Great!’ Duncan said. ‘W-We’ll have one, w-won’t we, Phoebe?’
    ‘Well, I …’ Phoebe began, but they had all taken her acceptance for granted.
    Phoebe got herself a job as secretary at a small theatre in the nearest little town. It wasn’t the sort of job she was used to. It was mornings only and a lot less demanding than her Newcastle one, where she had had to master a lot of scientific jargon and zoological vocabulary. It didn’t pay nearly as well either, but it suited her. In the early days of marriage she wanted time to devote to Duncan; time to sort out the cottage; time perhaps to conquer the garden. They had decided that they could live very cheaply. They had no mortgage to pay, as the cottage belonged to Hope and Peter. They were not intending to entertain or be entertained much, as Duncan didn’t like social gatherings. Duncan didn’t need smart clothes for work, and he could maintain and repair his van himself. Phoebe’s car was an unnecessary expense to run, but worth quite a bit. They could use the money, so they decided to sell it. She could ride to work on a bicycle.
    After the rush and busyness of the first few weeks, Phoebe began happily to wonder about the future. Duncan made nearly enough money, but it was irregular and uncertain. She would have to work whatever happened, maybe go full time if things got hard. So what about children? She and Duncan had never actually discussed them, but she assumed that he would be keen to have at least one.
    ‘K-Kids?’ he said, when she finally broached the subject. ‘We’re a b-bit old for that s-sort of nonsense, aren’t we?’ And the next time he came home it was with a small black labrador puppy which he handed to her with tenderness. ‘F-Father says this one’s g-got to g-go. He’s already d-dug up Mother’s b-best herbaceous b-border. They’ve called him Diggory. Father says he’s H-Hickory’s Diggory d-dog! Isn’t he a little m-monster?’ he bent over and pulled the silky ears delicately with a large hand,and smiled up at her. ‘Good ch-child s-s-s … substitute,’ he remarked, and went to put the kettle on.
    Diggory wriggled a bit in Phoebe’s arms and chewed a finger exploratively with sharp little white teeth, then leapt up to lick her face enthusiastically, and she had to grab at him to stop him from falling. His fur was short and shiny and his paws were ridiculous. In spite of herself she relented. He was very charming. He was also a
fait accompli.
    Phoebe thought, This wasn’t how I meant things to be.

Chapter Four
    On 27 November 1991 the senior Moons’ Golden Wedding party took place. Contrary to Phoebe’s assumptions, it was not held in Somerset but in the Parliament Chamber of the Inner Temple in London, which was more accessible for friends, colleagues and most relations. Hope’s quartet had borrowed another viola player for the occasion and, sitting on the platform, played elegant chamber music which was barely heard above the hubbub of