21:50

Chapter 1

'Dad, that's so, like, a cliché.'

'Well Tom, it's exactly like a cliché because it is one. But it'll be no less fun all the same,' taunted Marcus. And judging by his son's rolling eyes, he'd chalked up another point.

Marcus had just announced that the family would be having one last big holiday – definitely a villa, probably in Tuscany. A holiday to remember. But as he glanced across to Lara, he immediately saw that she didn't agree with the allocation of that last point. His suspicions were soon confirmed:

'Honestly! Why do you always have to be such a pedantic. . .'

'The phrase is a pedant.'

'I hadn't finished my sentence. I was about to ask why you're such a pedantic git.' She was clearly able then to find precisely the right noun to go with the adjective.

Marcus felt he could do no right - especially when he was right. He couldn't quite identify when or why things started to go wrong. Maybe it was a glacial progression that had begun soon after the rapturous first few months. Or maybe it started more recently. Either way, Marcus was aware that Lara no longer laughed with him; that she seemed distant and, most hurtful of all, that she was quick to become irritable. She may not have thought him sensitive, but he was sufficiently perceptive not to enquire if there might be a hormonal imbalance.

Three days previously, Marcus had been driving home to Putney via the King's Road. He wasn't quite sure what prompted him, but he felt compelled to buy a present for Lara. Maybe it was the tarnish that threatened their gilded lives or maybe it was a subconscious recognition that her role as a mother was altering and she could do with cheering up. Johanna was finishing her English degree and had started 'dating' that Oliver. And Tom would soon be finishing his schooling, before taking a well-earned year off.

Turning into Flood Street, it was Evoque, Cayenne, Evoque, Cayenne, oh and a Lexus, model unknown. Amazingly, however, there was space for a Vanquish. As he ambled back to the King's Road, he pondered what to buy. A top or a dress – minefield; a handbag – how much???; maybe some chunky jewellery. It was then that he saw someone he recognised and thought for a moment how he should greet her.

'Hello Vicky, what on earth would bring a shopaholic to this part of town?'

'Very funny, Marcus. You know that since the divorce I've needed to be careful with money.'

Marcus knew only too well about Vicky's carefulness. It was legendary. But he also knew that she usually found an extremely valid reason to treat herself. A new job - or a redundancy. Because Tony Blair had said so. Or because she was worth it.

'Absolutely right. So how are things? A new man in your life?'

'Several,' she said, without betraying the truth. 'And how's Lara? And the kids?'

'They're all great. Exams at the moment, but looking forward to the summer and a holiday. We're thinking of taking a villa in Tuscany, or somewhere. How about you? Any holiday plans?'

'Sadly not. Finances won't stretch to the real St Tropez this year. Just the stuff in a tube.'

'Maybe you should come with us if you're at a loose end' consoled Marcus, before he realised that he really should've checked with Lara first. Vicky had been her best friend since their early teens, but the friendship had not always been plain sailing.

'That'd be lovely!' she enthused. 'Must dash, Jaeger has a really good sale on at the moment.'

In a whirlwind, she was gone and Marcus glanced at his watch. 'Damn... late,' he muttered to himself. He needed to get back home for dinner. Johanna had invited that Oliver again, and Lara was hoping he would be a little less disapproving this time. No chance. Nevertheless he thought he should make an effort. So, having quickly bought a voluminous bunch of deep red roses, he sped home at London rush hour's nine mph.

'Hi. Sorry I'm a bit late. Traffic was horrendous. Is that Oliver here yet?'

'No, not yet. And his name is just Oliver.'

'Oh, right. Yes. And you'll never guess who I bumped into today. It was Vicky – on a mission as ever.'

'Where was that?'

'On the Kings Road. Where else! I was going to buy you something en route and there she was. Same as ever.'

'Didn't you just say the traffic was horrendous? And I am so pleased you thought about buying me a present. So were the flowers an after-thought?'

He considered it probably best not to mention the holiday invitation just yet.

For a week, Marcus had been relentlessly searching the internet for somewhere suitable, which meant somewhere affordable, yet sufficiently upmarket to create the right impression to their friends in Lara's Christmas round robin. This was quite a challenge as everywhere, that is everywhere in Tuscany or on the Amalfi Coast, was either already booked or phenomenally expensive. Perhaps, he thought, this was caused by the displacement of those who would in less uncertain times choose a Greek island destination.

He'd have to reset some of the search criteria. Spain was a contender, but only on the Atlantic coast. What about France – yes, the Dordogne – perfect! Some of the other search criteria remained unchanged, since a pool was essential and a tennis court remained a 'nice to have'. The double/single bedroom configuration was also high in his mind – not least because Johanna was bringing that Oliver. Additionally, Marcus' parents would ideally want a double room on the ground floor, as stairs were starting to become a problem. Then there'd be his brother and his husband.