About half past midnight, when the room had settledinto a number of quiet exchanges, Hermione mentionedthe yachtsman. Though she was almost across theroom, Elaine heard the sailor's name mentioned quitedistinctly. She broke off her conversation with Nellwynand picked her way through the sprawling limbs to joinHermione and Sam.

'I heard you talking about Maybury,' she said.

'Yes,' said Hermione, 'Sam and I were just saying howstrange it all was -'

'I saw him on the news,' Elaine said.

'Sad story, isn't it?' Sam commented. 'The way ithappened.'

'Why sad?'

'Him saying that: about Death being on the boat withhim-'

'- And then dying,' Hermione said.

'Dying?' said Elaine. 'When was this?'

'It was in all the papers.'

'I haven't been concentrating that much,' Elainereplied. 'What happened?'

'He was killed,' Sam said. 'They were taking him tothe airport to fly him home, and there was an accident.He was killed just like that.' He snapped his middlefinger and thumb. 'Out like a light.'

'So sad,' said Hermione.

She glanced at Elaine, and a frown crept across herface. The look baffled Elaine until - with that sameshock of recognition she'd felt in Chimes' office,discovering her tears - she realized that she wassmiling.

So the sailor was dead.

When the party broke up in the early hours ofSaturday morning - when the embraces and the kisseswere over and she was home again - she thought overthe Maybury interview she'd heard, summoning a facescorched by the sun and eyes peeled by the wasteshe'd almost been lost to, thinking of his mixture ofdetachment and faint embarrassment as he'd told thetale of his stowaway. And, of course, those final wordsof his, when pressed to identify the stranger:

'Death, I suppose,' he'd said.

He'd been right.

She woke up late on Saturday morning, without theanticipated hangover. There was a letter from Mi ten.She didn't open it, but left it on the mantelpiece for anidle moment later in the day. The first snow of winterwas in the wind, though it was too wet to make anyserious impression on the streets. The chill was bitingenough however, to judge by the scowls on the facesof passers-by. She felt oddly immune from it, however.Though she had no heating on in the flat she walkedaround in her bathrobe, and barefoot, as though shehad a fire stoked in her belly.

After coffee she went through to wash. There was aspider clot of hair in the plug hole; she fished it out anddropped it down the lavatory, then returned to the sink.Since the removal of the dressings she had studiouslyavoided any close scrutiny of her body, but today herqualms and her vanity seemed to have disappeared. Shestripped off her robe, and looked herself over critically.

She was pleased with what she saw. Her breasts werefull and dark, her skin had a pleasing sheen to it, herpubic hair had regrown more lushly than ever. The scarsthemselves still looked and felt tender, but her eyes readtheir lividness as a sign of her cunt's ambition, as thoughany day now her sex would grow from anus to navel (andbeyond perhaps) opening her up; making her terrible.

It was paradoxical, surely, that it was only now, whenthe surgeons had emptied her out, that she should feelso ripe, so resplendent. She stood for fully half an hourin front of the mirror admiring herself, her thoughtsdrifting off. Eventually she returned to the chore ofwashing. That done, she went back into the front room,still naked. She had no desire to conceal herself; quitethe other way about. It was all she could do to preventherself from stepping out into the snow and giving thewhole street something to remember her by.

She crossed to the window, thinking a dozen suchfoolish thoughts. The snow had thickened. Throughthe flurries she caught a movement in the alley betweenthe houses opposite. Somebody was there, watchingher, though she couldn't see who. She didn't mind.She stood peeping at the peeper, wondering if hewould have the courage to show himself, but he didnot.

She watched for several minutes before she realisedthat her brazenness had frightened him away. Disappointed, she wandered back to the bedroom and gotdressed. It was time she found herself something toeat; she had that familiar fierce hunger upon her. Thefridge was practically empty. She would have to go outand stock up for the weekend.

Supermarkets were circuses, especially on a Saturday,but her mood was far too buoyant to be depressed byhaving to make her way through the crowds. Today sheeven found some pleasure in these scenes of conspicuousconsumption; in the trolleys and the baskets heaped highwith foodstuffs, and the children greedy-eyed as theyapproached the confectionery, and tearful if denied it,and the wives weighing up the merits of a leg of muttonwhile their husbands watched the girls on the staff witheyes no less calculating.

She purchased twice as much food for the weekendas she would normally have done in a full week, herappetite driven to distraction by the smells from thedelicatessen and fresh meat counters. By the time shereached the house she was almost shaking with theanticipation of sustenance. As she put the bags downon the front step and fumbled for her keys she heard acar door slam behind her.

'Elaine?'

It was Hermione. The red wine she'd consumed theprevious night had left her looking blotchy and stale.

'Are you feeling all right?' Elaine asked.

'The point is, are you?' Hermione wanted to know.

'Yes, I'm fine. Why shouldn't I be?'

Hermione returned a harried look. 'Sonja's gonedown with some kind of food poisoning, and so'sReuben. I just came round to see that you were allright.'

'As I say, fine.'

'I don't understand it.'

'What about Nellwyn and Dick?'

'I couldn't get an answer at their place. But Reuben'sin a bad way. They've taken him into hospital fortests.'

'Do you want to come in and have a cup of coffee?'

'No thanks, I've got to get back to see Sonja. I justdidn't like to think of your being on your own if you'dgone down with it too.'

Elaine smiled. 'You're an angel,' she said, and kissedHermione on the cheek. The gesture seemed to startlethe other woman. For some reason she stepped back,the kiss exchanged, staring at Elaine with a vaguepuzzlement in her eyes.

'I must ... I must go,' she said, fixing her face asthough it would betray her.

Til call you later in the day,' Elaine said, 'and findout how they're doing.'

'Fine.'

Hermione turned away and crossed the pavementto her car. Though she made a cursory attempt toconceal the gesture, Elaine caught sight of her puttingher fingers to the spot on her cheek where she hadbeen kissed and scratching at it, as if to eradicate thecontact.

It was not the season for flies, but those that hadsurvived the recent cold buzzed around in the kitchenas Elaine selected some bread, smoked ham, and garlicsausage from her purchases, and sat down to eat. Shewas ravenous. In five minutes or less she had devouredthe meats, and made substantial inroads into the loaf,and her hunger was scarcely tamed. Settling to a dessertof figs and cheese, she thought of the paltry omeletteshe'd been unable to finish that day after the visit tothe hospital. One thought led to another; from omeletteto smoke to the square to Kavanagh to her most recentvisit to the church, and thinking of the place she wassuddenly seized by an enthusiasm to see it one finaltime before it was entirely levelled. She was probablytoo late already. The bodies would have been parcelledup and removed, the crypt decontaminated and scoured;the walls would be rubble. But she knew she would notbe satisfied until she had seen it for herself.