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no. They’re away. Madagascar or somewhere. Winter break.’
    Helen digested this information, felt relief that he wasn’t here, shock that he was still with his wife. She swallowed.
    ‘What about Greg and Sonia? Thought they might be here,’ she said brightly.
    ‘I gave them an invitation,’ Nadia said, gazing over Helen’s head at some women who had just come in, ‘at your Mick’s fiftieth. Sonia looked rather amazing I
thought. In spite of what Greg’s been saying about her.’ Nadia placed her hands under her bump and lifted it up and down gently. ‘God knows how she does it. Though I’ve
never been happier with my body than I am now.’ She closed her eyes and smiled beatifically. ‘Overheard one of the youngsters refer to her as a MILF! Mother I’d Like to
Fuck,’ she added for Helen’s benefit, though Helen hardly needed a translation.
    ‘What do you mean, in spite of what Greg’s been saying?’ Helen asked.
    ‘He was worrying about her to Pierre again. How she’s so – unfathomable – I think he called her.’
    ‘Oh?’
    ‘He reckons, since Kit’s left home and he’s got more work in Geneva, there’s no need to stay in her parents’ old house. But she refuses to move.’
    ‘She loves the River House,’ Helen said. ‘Who wouldn’t? It’s in such a unique location.’
    ‘It wasn’t just that. Greg thinks she’s depressed. You have to admit, she wasn’t exactly the life and soul of the party that night was she?’
    ‘To be honest,’ said Helen, ‘I haven’t heard from her much at all since the kids grew up. She seemed to lose interest in me once Kit went to uni. I assumed I’d gone
down in her estimation now both my sons have dropped out. But I miss her company. We’d have been out there having a fag on the pavement once upon a time.’
    ‘Well I’m only saying what Pierre heard from Greg,’ Nadia said. ‘I mean, where is she tonight?’
    ‘Perhaps it’s not my place to say this but I will anyway,’ said Helen, accepting another glass of wine from Pierre. ‘It’s bloody typical of Greg to make out
something’s wrong with Sonia just because she doesn’t agree with him. He’s always done that. He’s a control freak.’
    ‘And you’ve never liked Greg,’ smiled Nadia.
    ‘Not particularly, since you ask,’ said Helen.
    Nadia smiled at the group of women who’d entered and Helen felt shame, hot and glaring, that she’d mentioned her dislike of Greg. He was Pierre’s friend. She never knew when to
keep her mouth shut. So Sonia was a MILF. Ben was in Madagascar with Miranda. Helen felt her nerves slacken, her mood dip. Complementary gasps and exclamations came from the group of newcomers by
the door. Nadia was spirited away by one of the appreciative women and Helen saw that the last of the wine on the tray had gone. Time to go.
    She stood for a few moments on the pavement outside, hugging her blue hooded jacket around her and pulling on the burgundy leather driving gloves she kept in the pockets. Stamped her feet in
their suede boots against the pavement that was already beginning to twinkle with frost. She began to walk towards the corner where her car was parked. Across the road, boys piled out of a taxi and
into a Victorian warehouse that was now some kind of a club, their breath rising in white puffs as they moved across the road. Helen had been surrounded by teenage boys all week. The needy ones at
work, her own two and her nephew Jez at home. Their lanky legs and hunched shoulders seemed to be everywhere all the time. She wished there were more women in her life. People you could actually
talk to, share your feelings with. Nadia was too wrapped up in her pregnancy, Sonia clearly preferred her own company these days, and Helen’s sister, Maria was far too competitive about the
boys. Helen could never confide in her.
    Some of the gallery’s private viewers were meandering across to the warehouse now too. Middle-aged people trying to be young,