“That’s so weird. How come he waited all that time to see you?”

“He’s a very self-absorbed man, and he doesn’t like children. It’s funny, too, because I have five half-siblings. My mother says he came to meet me because she finally asked him for money. After that he would come round occasionally, bring us impractical presents…He’s quite entertaining, and completely undependable. When I was younger I used to worry that he was going to take me away from my mum and I’d never see her again.”

Valentina looked at Robert. Is he joking? If he was, she couldn’t detect it. The cab pulled up in front of the restaurant. Valentina had expected it to be large, well upholstered and quiet, but found herself in a tiny crowded room full of age-blackened wood and low ceilings. She had a rare sensation of being too big. This is the real London, where the Londoners eat. A welter of emotions hit her: triumph at finally being a nontourist; satisfaction because she was here and Julia wasn’t; inadequacy to the task of conversing with Robert. What do you say to someone when he says he thought his dad was going to kidnap him? What would Julia say? Once they were seated at a small table squeezed between an exuberant party of City people and a literary agent wooing an editor, Valentina said, “Why would he do that?”

Robert looked at her over the menu and said, “Sorry?”

“Um, your dad? You said…?”

“Oh, right. I know now that he never would’ve, but he was always joking about it, saying how great it was, just him and me, and how he was going to take me up north…To me he was like a goblin. I was quite frightened of him until I was in my teens.”

Valentina looked at him wide-eyed, then took refuge in her menu, at a loss for a reply. He seems so calm about it. I guess no matter what your family is like, you’re not surprised. She had the feeling, now very familiar to her, of being absurdly young and midwestern.

I’ve gone too far, Robert realised. He said, “Would you like a glass of wine? What are you having to eat?” They began to chat haltingly, righting the conversation with shared affection for Monty Python, anecdotes about the cemetery, the antics of Valentina’s kitten, appreciation of the fennel soup. By the end of the meal they were easy with each other again, or at least less uneasy than they had thus far managed to be.

It was a long evening, alone in the flat. Julia considered going upstairs to see Martin, but she was angry at being left on her own and determined to have the most miserable evening possible. She was gratified that the TV was still broken.

Julia heated some tomato soup and sat in the dining room, eating while reading an old copy of Lucky Jim she’d found in Elspeth’s office. Elspeth sat across from her and watched her. Don’t spill soup on that, it’s a signed first. Elspeth realised that she should have left more detailed instructions for the twins. Without meaning to be destructive, they were maddeningly casual with her things: they read rare editions of Tristram Shandy and Villette in the bath, they tucked Daniel Defoe pamphlets into their handbags to read on the tube. Elspeth yearned to snatch the book away from Julia. But why do I mind? It’s a book, she’s reading it, I ought to be fine with that. I shouldn’t be bothered that Valentina is wearing my clothes and having dinner with Robert-but I am, I am very bothered indeed. Julia finished her soup, shut the book, cleared the dishes and washed up. She played with the Kitten until the Kitten got bored and disappeared into the dressing room to nap. Then Julia lay on the sofa in the front room and stared at the ceiling until she couldn’t stand it and had to turn on her computer. She managed to kill a couple hours writing emails to a few long-neglected high school friends. Elspeth retreated to her drawer to sulk. At ten o’clock Julia took a bath. At ten thirty she began to think that Valentina really ought to be home any minute now. By midnight she had called Valentina’s phone three times and was beginning to panic. Elspeth watched Julia pacing and had a premonition of…what? Trouble. Danger. It was too much, the past repeating itself with unnerving variations. Elspeth imagined all the places Robert might have taken Valentina, favourite bars, cherished walks…Come home, come herewhere I can keep an eye on you. Julia went to bed but lay awake, fuming. Elspeth sat in the window seat. They waited.

“Would you like to walk along the South Bank?” Robert asked Valentina. He had paid the bill, they were gathering themselves to leave the restaurant. Valentina hesitated. She considered the shoes she was wearing. They were pointy and spiky and half a size too large. “Sure,” she said.

They took a cab to Westminster Bridge. The streets were strangely empty. Their footsteps sounded sharp on the pavement, they could hear laughter across the river. Valentina had never been in Westminster at night. It’s so much nicer without the crowds. Robert led her across the bridge and down some steps. They stood side by side at the railing looking over the Thames at the Houses of Parliament. There was a low orange moon slung just above Big Ben. Robert put his arm around her. She stiffened. They stood that way for a few minutes, each wondering what the other was thinking. Eventually he said, “Shall we walk? You must be getting cold.”

“Yeah, a little,” she said. They went back up the steps. It was a relief to Valentina to be walking. She was unsure of the protocol; she thought he would kiss her, but would he expect more than that? Did he imagine she would go home with him? Did he understand how impossible that would be? What time is it? Julia would be upset if she wasn’t home soon. She’s upset anyway, but she’ll totally freak out… Valentina tried to read Robert’s watch without him seeing. Then she remembered where she was and turned to see Big Ben. It was almost midnight. They walked past Waterloo Bridge, Blackfriars Bridge. Her feet were on fire. He was talking to her about an exhibit he’d seen at Tate Modern. She looked at each bench they passed with longing. They were near London Bridge when she said, “Can we sit down?”

“Oh,” he said, realising. “I’m awfully sorry-I forgot about your shoes.”

Valentina sank onto a bench and slipped her feet out of the shoes. She wriggled her toes and rotated her ankles. Robert stooped and picked up the shoes. He sat beside her, a hand in each shoe. The shoes were warm and a little damp. “Your poor feet,” he said.

“They aren’t my shoes,” she said.

“I know.” He put Elspeth’s shoes on the bench. “Here,” he said, holding out his hands. “Give me your feet.”

She looked dubious but complied. He eased her around so she was leaning back on her elbows with her feet in his lap.

“Could you take off your stockings?”

“Don’t look,” she said.

He began to massage her feet. At first she watched him, but soon she let her head hang back and all he could see was her long neck and her little pointed chin. He gave himself over to her feet, feeling that he had achieved a new level of debauchery, giving a foot massage to a young girl in public. I wonder if they arrest people for this? He stopped thinking. The world shrank to their bench, her feet, his hands.

Valentina raised her head. She was dizzy and deeply relaxed. Robert leaned down and kissed her feet. “There you are,” he said.

“Oh my God,” she said. “I don’t think I can walk.”

“I’ll carry you,” he said, and he did.

It was almost 2 a.m. when Julia and Elspeth heard footsteps on the stairs. Julia jumped out of bed, unsure if she should go to meet Valentina or wait for her. Elspeth flew to the hall and saw the door open slowly; she saw that Robert was carrying Valentina; she saw him deposit her gently onto her bare feet, she saw Valentina teeter slightly, a shoe in each hand, and Elspeth knew as though she had seen it exactly what had passed between them. Valentina stood peering into the dark flat. She turned to Robert and gave him a small wave. He bowed slightly to her with a smile, handed her her stockings and went downstairs. Valentina stepped into the flat and closed the door. She made no sound as she walked into the bedroom.