‘Oh, what a beautiful child,’ she exclaims. ‘Blue eyes and a round face. A moon child. Just like you, Blake,’ she says.

‘No, he’s not,’ Blake retorts harshly and I wonder what they are really referring to.

She laughs and holds her beautifully preserved hands, the tips pale pink ovals, out to Sorab.

But Sorab only buries his face in my neck, and looks longingly at his father, at the place where he really wants to go.

‘He’s a bit reserved with strangers,’ I explain apologetically.

‘Hello,’ she coos brightly, but still buried in my hair, Sorab turns his face fractionally towards her, and stares at her unsmiling.

‘He doesn’t tend to say much,’ I add.

Helena laughs. ‘He’s exactly like you, Blake. This is exactly how you were.’

I look at Blake. He is watching us without expression. When he catches my eyes, his lips curve upwards. Helena goes back to her seat and snaps open her white crocodile handbag with an expensive clunk, the discreet whiff of perfumed new leather, and a glimpse of the exclusive Gadino label. She fidgets about inside it and comes up with a lollipop, which she then unwraps slowly and deliberately, as she comes toward us. It is on the tip of my tongue to tell her that we have not introduced him to sweets or sugar, but I resist the urge. Fascinated, Sorab looks at the tantalizingly red lollipop. He wants it.

‘Go on,’ she encourages. ‘It’s for you.’

He snatches his hand out, but she pulls the sweet out of his reach. He stops and regards her. She opens her arms out and he rears back and watches her steadily. She offers him the lollipop and again he reaches for it only to have it drawn back. Any other child would have cried but he waits quietly, aware that it will be offered again. When it is, he lunges for it so hard, he almost jumps out of my arms. Helena is so taken aback by surprise that she doesn’t react in time, and Sorab grabs the prize in his fat hands and falls back against me.

Before anyone else can take it away from him he pops it greedily into his mouth while eying Helena with a mixture of suspicion and curiosity. Helena laughs delightedly and turns toward Blake.

‘Turns out he’s a chip off the old block. He’ll take, but he won’t give.’

I gasp at the insult, but Blake stands and says smoothly, ‘We have to go. I’m taking this little fellow here to the kiddie pool. Do you want to spend some time with him tomorrow morning?’

Helena smiles and nods gratefully, and for the first time I realize that she must have the normal instincts of a grandmother. At that moment my heart melts a little. She cannot be all bad. I will be as nice as I can to her.

‘All right,’ Blake says. ‘I’ll have the nanny come around to your suite at about eleven a.m., but please don’t give him any more sweets.’ Blake holds his hands out and Sorab eagerly leaves me for the higher perch.

Helena turns toward me. ‘Will you have tea with me tomorrow, Lana?’

That takes me by surprise. I turn to look at Blake, but he is watching me expressionlessly. Up to me.

My hands are suddenly clammy. ‘That will be nice,’ I accept.

‘Good, that’s settled then. See you at four.’

‘See you then,’ I say, and we leave her at the table. I dare not glance back, but I can feel her eyes on us until we get out of the door, and turn the corner.

‘Wow!’ I say. ‘That was intense.’

‘You don’t have to go tomorrow, you know?’

‘I know that. I’ll be OK,’ I say, and kissing them both, go off in search of Billie.

I find Billie lying on her front on a sun lounger. Her bikini top is undone and her back is evenly brown. She opens her eyes and looks at me while I take off my shift dress and, rubbing some of the suntan lotion that her mother makes at home on my shoulders and stomach, sit down beside her.

‘Well, did he bite her?’ she asks languidly.

I slather more onto my arms. ‘No, he didn’t, but he tricked her into giving up her lollipop, and then refused to go to her afterwards.’

‘Lollipop?’ Billie says, lifting her head, suddenly cheered by the thought of a fresh grievance. ‘That’s not fair. How come I’m not allowed to give him sweets and she is?’

I smile inwardly and start on my legs. ‘She’s not either. Blake’s already told her not to.’

She leans the side of her head on her elbow. ‘What was his reaction to the lollipop?'

‘His eyes nearly rolled to the back of his head, he liked it that much.’

She laughs. ‘I hope you caught it on your phone?’

‘No, I was too much in a state.’ I put the lotion on the floor between us and lie down.

‘Shame. I’d have loved to have seen it.’

I close my eyes. ‘You know what? I’ll keep Sorab tonight. You hit the town with Brian and enjoy yourself.’

‘Are you sure?’

‘Absolutely. I’ve really, really missed that mischievous, little runt. I’ve decided I’ll never be so far away and so out of touch from him again. Besides, it’s your holiday too.’

‘OK,’ she says. ‘I’ll go see one of those shows where the girls shoot ping-pong balls out of their fannies.’

I open my eyes. ‘You’re going to see a sex show?’

‘Yeah, Brian’s promised to take me.’

I laugh and lie back down. ‘Right. Tell me all about it tomorrow at breakfast.’

‘Do you want to have dinner at the Moon rooftop bar terrace?’ Blake asks when I get back to the room.

‘I know it’s a must do, and I do, but not tonight. Tonight, can we just order room service and stay with Sorab?’

And so that is what we do. We have a beautiful night together, the three of us. After dinner, we bathe Sorab together, and play with him, until he gets tired. Then we take him to our bed and cuddle up together. Finally, as he does whenever Blake is around, he crawls on top of his father’s body, and falls asleep.

We talk in whispers late into the night and go to sleep with Sorab’s warm, small body tucked between us. My last thought as I fall into sleep is that I can’t believe just how lucky I am.

Seven

Victoria Jane Montgomery

A nurse takes me to the evaluating psychiatrist later in the afternoon. The door opens and I see a man sitting at a desk. He is very still, but his eyes, behind his spectacles, are alert and intelligent. I can tell instantly that he is a man of great cultivation and charm who will speak with imagination and humor.

He stands and welcomes me as if I wasn’t a patient, but a guest. It is an act, naturally, but one he excels at. You see, he wants to see me as whole, but he cannot help turning me into parts—the parts that work and those that don’t.

I already know his name. One of the orderlies mentioned it and it is on his door. Dr. J. McBride. Anyway, he extends his hand, which surprises me. I put my hand in his and he looks at me with deliberately expressionless eyes. So he is hiding. He doesn’t want me to know how very curious he is about the Montgomery heir who has fallen under his care.

I smile serenely at him.

Someone opens the door and calls him outside. I am not sure that it is not just a ruse to see what I will do left to my own devices. When he leaves I move toward the window. The vast grounds are empty. Patients are not allowed out. Smokers have a small barred balcony to do their deed. I gaze at the sky.

‘What are you doing?’ he says, from the door.

I turn to face him. ‘Listening to the birdsong,’ I lie. I had been thinking of the phoenix. Remembering that night when the sky had split open and he had dropped out of the light-filled crack. Wondering where he came from, where he has gone to.

He relaxes, his disquiet stilled. He is probably of the opinion that people who listen out for birdsong, whatever their inner difficulties, or however shattered, must be lovely, or harmless at worst.