“I do,” Barbara said. “But make the appointment anyway. I can cope if we have to sedate her.” She could steel herself to it, she told herself: her mum slumped into the passenger seat of the Mini, slack of jaw and bleary of eye. That would be nearly unbearable to behold, but it would be infinitely preferable to trying to explain, to her disintegrating ability to understand, what was about to happen to her when she was asked to put her legs into the ghastly stirrups in the doctor’s surgery.

So Barbara and Mrs. Flo reached an agreement, which consisted of a range of days when Barbara could drive out to Greenford for the appointment. Then they rang off, and Barbara was left with the rueful knowledge that she wasn’t as childless as she looked to the outside world. For certainly her mother stood in place of progeny. Not exactly what Barbara had in mind for herself, but there it was. The cosmic forces governing the universe were always willing to give you a variation of what you thought your life was meant to be like.

She headed for the bathroom again, only to have the telephone ring a second time. She decided to let her answer machine take the call, and she left the room to turn the shower on. But from the bathroom, the voice she heard was male this time, which suggested the night had brought another development in the case, so she hurried back out in time to hear Taymullah Azhar saying, “…the number up here should you need to get in touch with us.”

She snatched up the receiver, saying, “Azhar? Hello? Are you there?” And where was there? she wondered.

“Ah, Barbara,” he said. “I hope I did not awaken you? Hadiyyah and I have come to Lancaster for a conference at the university, and I realised that I did not ask anyone to collect our post prior to our leaving. Could you-”

“Shouldn’t she be at school? Is she on holiday? Half-term?”

“Yes, of course,” he said. “That is to say, she should be at school. But I could not leave her alone in London, so we’ve brought her schoolwork with us. She does it here in the hotel room while I’m at my meetings. It is, I know, not the best arrangement, but she’s safe and she keeps the door locked while I’m gone.”

“Azhar, she shouldn’t…” Barbara stopped herself. That way led to disagreement. She said instead, “You could have left her with me. I would have been happy to have her here. I’d always be happy to have her here. I knocked you up the other morning. No one came to the door.”

“Ah. We would have been here in Lancaster,” he said.

“Oh. I heard music-”

“My meagre attempt to thwart burglars.”

Barbara felt unaccountably relieved by this information. “D’you want me to check the flat, then? Have you left a key? Because I could collect the post and go in and…” She realised how bloody happy she was to hear his voice and how much she wanted to accommodate him. She didn’t like this at all, so she stopped herself from going on. He was, after all, still the man who thought her unfortunately unpartnered in life.

He said, “You are very kind, Barbara. If you would claim our mail, I’d ask nothing more of you.”

“Will do, then,” she said cheerfully. “How’s my mate?”

“I believe she misses you. She is still asleep or I would bring her to the phone.”

Barbara was grateful for the information. She knew he hadn’t needed to give it to her. She said, “Azhar, about the CD, about the row…you know…what I said about your…about Hadiyyah’s mum being gone…” She wasn’t sure where to go with this, and she didn’t want to reiterate her remarks in order to remind him of what she was about to apologise for. She said, “I was out of order with what I said. Sorry.”

There was a silence. She could imagine him in some hotel room in the north, frost on the window and Hadiyyah a small lump in the bed. There would be two beds, with a nightstand between them and he would be sitting on the edge of his. A lamp would be on, but not on the nightstand because he wouldn’t want its light to shine on his daughter and awaken her. He’d be wearing…what? Dressing gown? Pyjamas? Or was he dressed for the day? And were his feet bare or clothed in socks and shoes? Had he combed his dark hair? Shaved? And…And bloody hell, dolly, get a grip, for God’s sake.

He said, “I was not offering a response to your words, as it turns out, Barbara. I was merely reacting to what you said. This was wrong of me, this reacting and not simply replying. I felt…No, I thought, She doesn’t understand, this woman, nor can she possibly understand. Without the facts, she judges, and I’ll set her straight. This was wrong of me, so I apologise as well.”

“Understand what?” Barbara heard the water gushing freely in her shower and she knew she ought to turn it off. But she didn’t want to ask him to hold on while she did that because she feared he’d be gone altogether if she did.

“What it was about Hadiyyah’s behaviour…” He paused, and she thought she could hear the sound of a match being lit. He would be smoking, putting off his answer in that way they’d been taught by society, culture, films, and the telly. He finally said, very quietly, “Barbara, it began…No. Angela began with lies. Where she was going and whom she was seeing. She ended with lies as well. A trip to Ontario, relatives there, an aunt-her godmother, in fact-who was ill and to whom she owed much…And you will have guessed-have you not?-that none of that is the case at all, that there is someone else, as I was someone else for Angela once… So for Hadiyyah to lie to me as she did…”

“I understand.” Barbara found that she wanted only to stop the pain that she could hear in his voice. She didn’t need to know what Hadiyyah’s mother had done and with whom she’d done it. “You loved Angela, and she lied to you. You don’t want Hadiyyah to learn to lie as well.”

“For the woman you love more than your life,” he said, “the woman you have given up everything for, who has borne your child…the third of your children with the other two lost to you forever…”

“Azhar,” Barbara said, “Azhar, Azhar. I’m sorry. I didn’t think…You’re right. How could I possibly know what it’s like? Damn. I wish…” What? she asked herself. That he was there, she answered, there in the room so that she could hold him, so that something could be transferred from her to him. Comfort, but more than comfort, she thought. She’d never felt lonelier in her life.

He said, “No journey is easy. This is what I’ve learned.”

“That doesn’t help the pain, I expect.”

“How true. Ah, Hadiyyah is stirring. Would you like to-”

“No. Just give her my love. And Azhar, next time you have to go to a conference or something, think of me, all right? Like I said, I’m happy to look after her while you’re away.”

“Thank you,” he said. “I think of you often.” And he gently rang off.

At her end, Barbara held on to the receiver. She kept it pressed to her ear, as if this would maintain the brief contact she’d had with her neighbour. Finally she said to no one, “’Bye, then,” and replaced the phone. But she rested her fingers on it, and she could feel her pulse beating in the tips of them.

She felt lighter, warmer. When she finally made her way to the shower, she hummed not “Raining in My Heart” but rather “Everyday,” which seemed more appropriate to her altered mood.

Afterwards, the drive to New Scotland Yard didn’t bother her. She passed the journey pleasantly, without a single cigarette to buoy her. But all this good cheer faded once she arrived in the incident room.

The place was abuzz. Small knots of people gathered round three different desks, and all of them were focussed on a tabloid opened upon each. Barbara approached a group that Winston Nkata was part of, standing to the rear with his arms crossed on his chest, as was his fashion, but none the less riveted.

She said to him, “What’s up?”

Nkata inclined his head towards the desk. “Paper’s done their piece on the guv.”