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'Let me in. I'll make it up to you, I swear. Whatever you want me to do, I'll do it.'

    'Clear off, then,' Amy said. 'And stop bothering me.'

    'I'm your husband.'

    'Pah!'

    'We've had forty years together, Amy. Forty good years. Doesn't that count for anything?'

    'They might have been good for you, but who said they were good for me?'

    'Think of the kids,' Derek begged. 'You don't want them to come from a broken home.'

    'They're all grown-up,' she said. 'They don't need us. I've given the best years of my life to you and those children. Now it is time to do something for me.'

    'What?' Derek said. 'What can you do by yourself that you can't do with me?'

    Amy refused to be drawn on that one.

    'Come on, darlin',' he wheedled. 'What's the point of splitting up now? We've got a nice home.' Admittedly still owned by the council. 'Neither of us are getting any younger.'

    Amy's expression darkened. Perhaps that wasn't the best thing to point out. His wife was no longer in her first flush of youth as she had been when he'd first set eyes on her. Her golden hair now owed more to the products of Clairol than any genetic material. They had met when Amy was just twenty-one at one of the dance halls in the West Endshe was the most beautiful girl he'd ever seen and one of the most accommodating. They'd had a wild time back at his digs and she was pregnant within weeks of them meeting. The wedding was already arranged and paid for when Amy lost the baby, but they decided to make a go of it and got married anyway. It had been a great party and he'd never regretted it. Not for a moment. There were two more miscarriages before she finally gave birth to Joseph, and then another two years later before they could eventually afford to have Fern. They might not have had the most passionate relationshipthey were no Burton and Taylorbut they'd rubbed along well enough all these years. Hadn't they?

    Derek thought he'd try another tack. Amy had always been frugal. 'Have you any idea how expensive it is to get divorced?'

    'No,' Amy snapped. 'Have you?'

    'No, but...' Derek sighed. 'The worst years are behind us now. All the struggling's over. Think of the days when the children were young and we hardly had two pennies to rub together. Those were the tough times.'

    'They were,' she replied. 'I had to work all day at the newsagent's and take in other people's ironing at night just to put food in our mouths.'

    'I know,' he agreed. 'You've always been a worker.'

    'But no matter how hard it got, it never meant you had to go without your booze or your little flutters, did it?'

    That made him hang his head. There were times when he hadn't treated her right, but those days were behind them. Largely. 'We'll soon be able to sit back and enjoy ourselves a bit.'

    'Perhaps I want to enjoy myself without you.'

    'We've not got much longer to go, Amy. We're in the twilight of our years. Shouldn't we stick together now more than ever?'

    'And that's the best you can offer?' Her hands went to her hips. 'It's better to be married to you than to be dead?'

    It didn't sound right when she put it like that. 'Well...'

    'Some of us might not agree with that,' she said.

    He had a horrible feeling that he was losing this battle, and he didn't even know what had started the skirmish. She couldn't really mean that it was over between them? That would be madness. 'I know I've not been perfect, but I've tried, Amy. I've really tried.'

    His wife sighed and he could see that there was a tear in her eye. 'I've tried, too, Del.' She wiped the tear away. 'And I just can't do it any longer.'

Ten

    'I' ve been in a limousine like this before,' Fern said, running her hand over the walnut door panels.
    Evan had been humming gently to himself and staring out of the window onto the elegance of Park Lane as they swept towards the rehearsal rooms near the Albert Hall. Now he turned towards her. 'Excuse me?'

    'On Jemma MacKenzie's hen night. Well, not quite like this. We're