‘Cunning, conniving, controlling cow,’ muttered Nadine from the side of her mouth.

Working in Lustrous was honing her alliterative skills, Jake thought. Her feet, slender in red shoes, tapped so rapidly against the floor that he feared she was going to stand and walk out.

He placed his arm across the back of her chair and hissed, ‘Calm down. We agreed to go through the motions but this is the last time… the last time…’ He looked towards the stage and found himself face-to-face with a television camera. Instinctively, he and Nadine smiled as the camera swamped them in its lens then moved on.

‘We believe that the edifice of marriage is supported by the two sturdy pillars of husband and wife.’ Eleanor’s voice rang with conviction. ‘Marital love is the foundation upon which our edifice stands, but that love brings responsibilities. Outside forces will try to convince us that marriage, in all its beautiful manifestations, is an old-fashioned custom, quaint and outdated, like foot binding, for instance.’

Nadine stiffened. ‘She’s stealing my lines.’ She sounded more astonished than angry.

‘Shush,’ hissed a voice from behind.

‘Civil partnership or gay marriage – should such a law be introduced – will undermine the core principals of our party,’ Eleanor continued. ‘I don’t have to spell out the consequences that will result from such liaisons. The demands these people will make on our already fractured, dysfunctional society. ’

‘Bring it on!’ A female voice yelled from the centre of the hall.

‘Bring it on!’ echoed a second voice, male this time.

More voices joined in, each chanting the same slogan. Eleanor’s mouth opened and closed, her words inaudible in the growing tumult.

‘Is a beloved union between wife and wife not equally blessed in the sight of God?’ This voice had a familiar ring and Jake swallowed convulsively when he recognised it.

Nadine, who had turned to stare at the protestors, swung her head towards Jake. ‘That’s Feral Childe,’ she gasped. ‘What’s she doing here?’

‘She probably came with her wife.’

‘What?’

‘Her wife,’ he repeated. ‘Didn’t I tell you Feral was married?’

‘You certainly did not! Which one is her wife?’

‘Sit down.’ He pulled her arm until she collapsed back into the chair. ‘I don’t want her to see me. Her wife’s the leader of a gay rights activist group.’

‘Do they know Eleanor is your mother?’

‘What do you think? It’s not something I’m inclined to boast about. ‘

The members of First Affiliation were on their feet, booing at the group of men and women holding banners that proclaimed Marriage Equality is Our Right! and God Does Not Differentiate!

The protest group was unceremoniously escorted from the hall by four heavy-set security men. Eventually, when the door slammed behind them, Eleanor continued her speech. She had lost her audience, who whispered among themselves, their impatience obvious as they waited for her to finish.

‘Let’s go,’ said Nadine as soon as the short standing ovation ended and the audience surged from their seats.

The gay rights activists were continuing to protest outside the hotel. Journalists shoved microphones towards Maggie Childe-Doyle and demanded to know how she and Feral, as a married couple, felt about being denied the right to participate in the conference. Without waiting to hear her reply Jake sprinted towards Nadine’s car. He had been ordered by Eleanor not to bring his band van to the conference. Once inside the car they stared at each other.

‘Don’t you dare make me laugh,’ Nadine warned.

‘As if I would.’

‘My mascara will run.’

‘Not as fast as I’ll run if Eleanor discovers one of the chief hecklers is the drummer in my band.’

‘Oh, Jake… Eleanor’s face…’ Nadine bent over the steering wheel, her shoulders heaving. ‘I shouldn’t be laughing… I shouldn’t,’ she gasped. ‘And neither should you. It’s cruel.’

‘You’re right about the mascara,’ he said.

‘I’m like a panda.’ She pulled down the front mirror and dabbed at her eyes with a tissue. ‘I actually thought you and Feral were… you know…’

‘You what? Are you mad? She’s a married woman.’ It was good to laugh with her again. ‘Fancy going for a drink?’ he asked. ‘I need one after that shemozzle.’

In The Boot Inn he ordered two glasses of wine and listened, astonished, when she told him about Stuart’s extraordinary invitation. The conference had banished the tension between them and it was almost like old times when they talked about the children. Ali had joined a drama group and was waiting tables three afternoons a week in a tapas bar. The twins, according to Samantha, were cleaning out the student vomitorium. Roughly translated, this meant tending the student bar in Silver Ridge University. Jake admitted to his frustration with the slow progress of the band. Reedy and Feral were professional musicians with other commitments and the date had passed for the come-back launch. Hart was worried about falling membership at Hartland to Health and Daryl – who once offered to sell his soul to Satan if it helped him play his guitar better than The Edge – had a full-time job and a baby daughter who was turning into a terrorist. They looked upon the band as a hobby, a light relief from the stresses of the day. To place Shard in the same category as wood-whittling or plane-spotting was insulting but Jake understood their reluctance to give more time to it.

Nadine had lost weight. Not a lot but enough to give her figure an added sleekness.

‘Stress is the new liposuction,’ she joked when he commented.

Was she seeing someone? To imagine her in another man’s bed, her hair riotous on his pillows… those sea-green eyes deepening to the lambent glow of desire. It was an uncomfortable image, unsettling. His phone rang. He checked his watch, surprised at how quickly the time had passed. He was due in Karin’s apartment in an hour.

‘Why not answer it?’ Nadine said. ‘I won’t eavesdrop.’

‘I’ll take it later.’ He cut the call but the lightness had gone from their conversation. Nadine, appreciating that the mood had changed, finished her wine and pulled on her jacket.

Outside Sea Aster they hesitated, awkward at parting.

‘See you round,’ she said. ‘You should ring Eleanor and see if she’s okay. This won’t have helped her stress levels.’

‘Stress levels, my foot. That was a con job if ever I saw one.’

‘She wasn’t faking, Jake. Keep in touch with her.’

He stopped for petrol on the way to Karin’s apartment and, on impulse, plucked a bouquet of roses from a bucket beside the pay station. Every traffic light seemed set at red to deliberately thwart him. He eyed the roses lying on the passenger seat and recalled a conversation on talk radio in which a women claimed she broke off her relationship with her partner when he presented her with a bouquet of garage roses. Too tawdry and cheap, she said. A lazy, thoughtless gift that reflected his view of their relationship. Afterwards, the phone lines zinged with women who claimed they would have welcomed roses, no matter where they originated, as a sign that their husbands thought about them, even for those brief moments when they filled their cars with petrol. Should he dump the roses in a refuse bin and arrive empty-handed? Better keep going. Karin was ignoring his apologetic texts and he was already forty-five minutes late.

He heard a dog barking when he stepped from the elevator. High yelps that belonged indoors, probably a small dog with scurrying legs and a puffed-up sense of its own importance. The yelps rose to a crescendo as he hurried towards Karin’s apartment.

‘You’ve arrived.’ She made this terse, self-evident statement when she opened the door. ‘Thank you for taking the trouble to show up.’