'How could it be awkward?'

'That's right,' she said eagerly. 'That's right. That's what I've been saying. It really shouldn't be a problem at all, if we don't let it become one.'

I took a sip of wine and forced myself to be patient. That was another characteristic of Kerry. She veered between being so incommunicative that she wouldn't say a word to a sort of babbling incoherence.

'What problem?'

'He's someone you know.'

'Really?'

'Actually, it's more than that. It's someone you went out with. It's an ex-boyfriend of yours.'

I didn't respond to this because I started thinking frantically. Who could this be? Lucas and I had had a massive bust-up and he was with Cleo anyway. I'd been with Paul for a year and he'd certainly met Kerry once or twice. But wasn't he still in Edinburgh? Then it was back to ancient history. There were a few odds and sods from college, but that was at a time when I was hardly in touch with Kerry at all. I tried to imagine the massive coincidence that could have brought Kerry together with some figure like Rob from my distant past. But they hadn't even met, had they? Or perhaps it was way back even beyond that into my primeval past at school, with someone like Tom. That must be it. Maybe there was a school reunion…

'It's Brendan,' she said. 'Brendan Block.'

'What? What do you mean?'

'Isn't it amazing? He's just about to arrive. He said he thought it would be good if we all got together.'

'That's not possible,' I said.

'I know it might seem a bit odd

'Where did you meet?'

'I'll tell you,' she said. 'I'll tell you everything. But I wanted to tell you something quickly before Bren arrives.'

'Bren?'

'I just wanted to say straight away, my lovely Miranda, that Bren has told me all about it, and I want you to know that I hope it won't be embarrassing.'

'What?'

Kerry leaned across the table and put both her hands on mine. She looked at me with big, sympathetic eyes.

'Miranda, I know that it was painful for you when you parted.' She took a deep breath and gave my hand a squeeze. 'I know that Bren broke up with you. He's told me how upset you were, how angry and bitter. But he has told me that he hopes you're over it. He says he's fine about it.'

'He says he's fine about it?'

And at that moment Brendan Block came into the restaurant.

Kerry met Brendan in the middle of the room, and he bent down to kiss her lingeringly on the lips. She closed her eyes for a moment, looking tiny beside his tall, bulky figure. She stood on tiptoe and whispered something in his ear, and he nodded and looked across at me with his head slightly to one side and a very small smile on his lips. He gave a nod and walked towards me with both arms outstretched. I didn't know quite what to do. I half-raised myself from my seat, so by the time he arrived at the table I was crouched awkwardly with the chair jammed behind my knees.

'Miranda,' he said. He put his hands firmly on my shoulders, making me sink a bit lower towards my chair, and stared me in the eyes. 'Oh, Miranda.'

He bent down to kiss me on the cheek, too near my mouth. By this time Kerry had managed to wrap her arm around Brendan's waist, so she bobbed towards me too, and for one awful second we were all a few inches from each other's faces and I could see the sweat in the divot above his upper lip and the small scar in Kerry's eyebrow where I'd hit her with a plastic spade when I was four and she was six. So close I could smell his soap and her perfume and something sour in the air between us. I pulled myself free and sank gratefully back on to my chair.

'So Kerry's told you?' By now he was sitting too, positioned between me and Kerry so that we were crammed around a small segment of the table, our knees touching. He put a hand over Kerry's as he spoke, and she looked up at him with her shining eyes.

'Yes. But I…'

'And it's really all right?'

'Why shouldn't I be?' I said and realized I'd answered a question that hadn't been asked. It made me sound tense, rattled, which I was, a bit. Anyone in the world would have been. I saw them exchange a glance. 'I mean, it's fine.'

'I know this must be hard for you.'

'It's not hard for me at all,' I said.

'That's very generous of you,' he said. 'Typically generous. I told Derek and Marcia you would be like this. I told them not to worry too much.'

'Mum and Dad?'

'Yes,' said Kerry. 'They met Bren a couple of days ago. They really liked him. Well, of course they did. Troy did too, and you know how hard he is to please.'

Brendan gave a modest smile. 'Sweet kid,' he said.

'And you told them…?' I didn't know how to finish the sentence. I suddenly remembered a phone call the night before last, when both my parents had talked to me, one after the other, and asked me how I was feeling at the moment. A small tic started up under my left eye.

'That you would understand because you were a big-hearted woman,' said Brendan.

I felt myself getting angry now at the thought of these people talking behind my back about the way they assumed I would react.

'The way that I remember it is…'

Brendan held up a hand – large and white, with hairy wrists. Hairy wrists, big ear lobes, thick neck. Memories bobbed to the surface and I pushed them back down again. 'Let's not go any further right now. Give it time.'

'Miranda,' said Kerry pleadingly. 'Bren just told them what we thought they needed to know.' I looked across at her and saw on her face the luminous happiness that I wasn't used to. I swallowed hard and stared at the menu.

'Shall we order, then?'

'Good idea. I think I'll have the daurade,' said Brendan, rolling his 'r's at the back of his throat.

I didn't feel like eating anything.

'I'll just have the steak and chips,' I said. 'Without the chips.'

'Still worried about your weight?'

'What?'

'You don't need to,' Brendan said. 'You look fine. Doesn't she, Kerry?'

'Yes. Miranda always looks lovely.' For a moment she looked sour, as if she'd said 'Miranda always looks lovely' too many times. 'I think I'd like the salmon and a green salad.'

'We'll have a bottle of the Chablis, I think,' said Brendan. 'Do you want a glass of red with your steak, Mirrie?'

That was another thing. I'd always liked the name 'Miranda' because it couldn't be shortened. Until I met Brendan. 'Mirrie'. It sounded like a misprint.

'White's fine,' I said.

'Sure?'

'Yes.' I gripped the table. 'Thanks.'

Kerry got up to go to the ladies, and he watched her weave her way through the tables with that small smile on his face. He ordered our meal before turning back to me.

'So

'Miranda.'

He just smiled, then laid a hand over mine.

'You two are very different,' he said.

'I know that.'

'No, I mean, you're different in ways you couldn't possibly know.'

'What?'

'Only I can make comparisons,' he said, still smiling at me fondly.

It took me a few seconds to understand. I pulled my hand away.

'Brendan, listen…'

'Hello, honey,' he said over my head, then stood up to pull back Kerry's chair for her, placing a hand on her head as she sat down again. The food arrived. My steak was fat and bloody, and slid around the plate when I tried to cut it. Brendan watched me hack at it, then lifted a finger to a waitress as she passed. He said something to her in French, which I didn't understand, and she brought me a different sort of knife.

'Brendan spent time in Paris,' said Kerry.

'Oh.'

'But you probably knew that?' She glanced up at me then looked away. I couldn't read her expression: was it suspicious, resentful, triumphant or simply curious?