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Heather had seen, not because she disliked the kiss. She thought now, not for the first time, that Andrew was like Guy to look at. If you saw them together you might have taken them for brothers. But of course no one could ever see them together.
    Ismay went into the pub where Andrew was sitting on a bar stool waiting for her. Other people were with him but he left them, came up to her and took her in his arms. He smelt of smoke and some rather sophisticated herb. She had never told him anything about Guy. As he led her up to the others and bought her a glass of wine, she thought that of all the appalling things that could happen, the worst was that Andrew should ever know, ever find out, about Heather.
    Influenced by Andrew’s estimate of a male nurse as ‘a bit of a nerd if not a closet queer’, Ismay was pleasantly surprised to meet a good-looking fair-haired man, well-built and as tall as Andrew, a man with plenty to say for himself and a considerable grasp of current events.
    He had brought with him a bottle of champagne in a cooler. ‘This is to celebrate my meeting Heather,’ he said. ‘The best thing that’s happened to me in years.’
    Heather wasn’t the sort of girl to blush or demur at such an accolade. While Edmund opened the bottle of Lanson, she sat calmly, a Mona Lisa smile on her lips.
    He raised his glass, said, ‘Heather!’ Ismay and Andrew followed suit, Andrew with an undertone of amusement.They talked about a political scandal, which was the lead story in the
Evening Standard
, then about the uncontrollability of what Andrew called ‘the print media’ and after that he and Ismay went off to the leaving party for a man in his chambers.
    â€˜Not what I’d expected, I must admit,’ he said in the taxi.
    â€˜Not a nerd?’
    â€˜It would appear not. To be frank, I don’t in the least care what he’s like so long as he likes her and she likes him. The burning question of the hour is, will they get together to the extent of moving in together or, better still, get married?’
    â€˜It’s early days, Andrew.’
    â€˜Ah, but they are exactly the sort of people who would fall madly in love, marry in haste and repent at leisure.’
    â€˜Don’t say that, please.’
    â€˜I’m sorry, my darling, but I do want your sister out of there. I don’t frankly know why she has to be there in the first place and nothing you tell me seems to me an adequate explanation. You earn twice what she does. You don’t need her share of the rent …’
    â€˜Oh, but, Andrew, I do. My mother does.’
    â€˜Yes, but if I were there she’d have my share. Or suppose you were to leave and move in with me? She need not be alone. Finding someone to share with her would be easy as pie.’
    â€˜It might be easy but it won’t do.’
    â€˜But it would do if it were this Edmund?’
    Would it? He was very nice, Ismay thought, and he seemed sensible, mature. In some ways he reminded her of their father. Of course, he was a bit older than the rest of them. But was he mature enough,
responsible
enough, to take something like this on board, accept it, be surehis love was strong enough to encompass even this? Ismay felt very doubtful about Heather’s ability to love – to be in love, that is. Of course Heather loved her, there was no doubt about that. Indeed, there was a grim certainty about it. But would she love Edmund and love him enough to overcome the inevitable cooling off or settling down which must come after a year or two of marriage? Or must come, according to what Ismay had read. For her part, she knew she could never cool off Andrew or settle with him into a humdrum existence. Her passion and her devotion would endure until death. ‘Till death us do part’ would have real meaning for her when she came to say those words at the altar or before the registrar … If only the saying of