“Shall I open this?” he said.

“Sure.”

He opened the wine and poured them both glasses. Alice put the cheese on a plate and they sat down on opposite sides of the long table.

“Are you coming tomorrow?” asked Alice, eating another chocolate biscuit. “To Mega Meringue Day?”

“Oh, no, I wasn’t. Do you want me to go?”

“Of course!”

Nick laughed, in that slightly flabbergasted way. “All right, then.”

“I think it will all be over by lunchtime,” said Alice. “So you’ll be able to make it to your mother’s place.”

Nick looked blankly at her.

“For the Mother’s Day lunch,” said Alice. “Remember? You told Ella you were going at the Family Talent Night.”

“Oh. Yeah. Right.”

“How do you cope without me?” said Alice lightly.

Nick’s face closed up. “I cope fine. I’m not totally useless.”

Alice flinched at his tone. “I never said you were.” She took a piece of cheese. “Or have I said that?”

“You don’t believe I’m capable of looking after the children for half the time. According to you, I wouldn’t remember all their after-school activities, sign their permission notes, or whatever. I’d forget to read the all-important school newsletter. Not sure how I manage to run a company.”

Well, you have a secretary to handle all the pesky details.

She wasn’t sure which Alice said that: Snippy Alice from the future or real Alice. Nick had always been a big-picture man.

He refilled their wineglasses. “I can’t stand only seeing them on weekends. I can’t be natural with them. Sometimes I hear my father’s voice come out of my mouth when I see them. Fake jolly. I’m driving over to pick them up and I find myself preparing jokes for them. And I think—how did I end up here?”

“Did you spend a lot of time with them during the week?”

“Yeah, I know the point you’re trying to make. Yes, I work long hours, but you never seem to remember the times I did come home early. I went bike riding with Madison that time, and Friday nights in summer I played cricket for hours with Tom—well, you always say it was just one Friday night, but I know it happened at least twice, and I—”

“I wasn’t trying to make a point.”

Nick twirled the stem of his wineglass and looked up at Alice with an “I’m going to come clean” expression. “I haven’t been very good at achieving a life-work balance. I need to work on that. If we work things out, I’ll get better at that. I’m committed to that.”

“Okay,” said Alice. She wanted to make fun of him for saying “I’m committed to that,” but Nick was acting as though it was some sort of breakthrough moment. It just didn’t seem that big a deal to her. So he had to work long hours sometimes. If that’s what he had to do for his career, then fair enough.

“I guess my competition doesn’t work such long hours,” said Nick.

“Competition?” The wine was going to Alice’s head. Her mind was filled with hazy half-thoughts, glimpses of people’s faces she didn’t know, and vague memories of intense feelings she couldn’t describe.

“Dominick.”

“Oh, him. He’s nice, but the thing is, I’m married to you.”

“We’re separated.”

“Yes, but we’re trying.” Alice giggled. “Sorry. I don’t know why I find it funny. It’s not funny. It’s not at all funny. I might actually need a glass of water.”

She stood up, and as she walked by Nick, she suddenly plonked herself down on his lap like a flirty girl at a party.

“Are you going to try, Nick?” she gurgled into his neck. “Are you going to try really, really hard?”

“You’re tipsy,” he said, and then he kissed her, and at last everything was as it should be. Her body melted against his with exquisite relief. It was like sinking into a hot bath after being caught in the rain, like sliding under crisp cotton sheets after an exhausting day.

“Daddy?” said a voice from behind them. “What are you doing here?”

Nick’s legs jerked up so that Alice was catapulted onto her feet.

Olivia stood in the kitchen in her pajamas, rubbing her eyes with her knuckles, her cheeks flushed with sleep. She yawned hugely, stretching her arms above her head. She frowned, perplexed, and then an expression of pure delight crossed her face.

“Do you love Mummy again?”

Frannie’s Letter to Phil Kissing! At my age! Is it allowed? Is it unseemly? I feel as though I’ve broken a rule. I’ve gone full circle and I’m fourteen again.

We had a lovely night at the Chinese restaurant. It’s been so long since I’ve eaten Chinese. (I used to take Elisabeth and Alice when they were little for a special treat. They adored it. Of course now they would be horrified at the thought. Too many calories. Or “carbs” or something.)

We shared a nice bottle of white wine and the steamed dim sums were fabulous. Mr. M. was his ridiculous self. After we paid the bill, he asked the waitress if we could go to the kitchen and “pay our compliments to the chef”!

The little girl looked alarmed. (She probably thought we were undercover health inspectors.) I was saying to her, “Just ignore him, darling,” but next thing, Mr. M. marched out to the kitchen and dragged out three young Chinese men dressed in white. There he was, clapping them on the shoulders, loudly telling them a long story about a meal he’d eaten at a fancy hotel in Hong Kong in 1954, and how this was even better than that meal, while all the other diners put down their chopsticks and stared.

I got such an attack of the giggles watching those poor young chefs with their polite, bemused smiles, nervously bobbing their heads up and down, obviously thinking this man was quite deranged. In the end, Mr. M. convinced the whole restaurant to give them a round of applause. (The food wasn’t that good!)

I giggled in the cab the whole way home until finally Mr. M. said, “I think there’s only one way to shut you up,” and next thing he was kissing me.

I’m very sorry, Phil.

Do you mind?

Well, bad luck if you do. It’s your fault anyway! Why did you need a camping trip “with the fellows” just before our wedding? You were forty years old! You shouldn’t have had any wild oats left to sow. And then you happily, idiotically, dive headfirst into a river without checking the depth first. You silly fool.