In Bed With Lord Byron

and quickly crouched down behind the bushes in a fit of cowardice, pulling Adam down with me. She laughed and I shivered in surprise at the softness, the
happiness in her voice. Maybe she and Peter had made up – thank God. I parted the leaves, forming a jagged peep-hole to spy through, Adam’s cheek pressing against mine in impatient
curiosity.
    And then I saw them. Marie and Roger. No wonder they had been so rude about each other. They weren’t kissing or holding each other – they were just standing side by side – but
there was no mistaking the intimacy between them. Then I saw Roger reach out and with a proprietorial hand gently caress the bump in her stomach.
    ‘Come on, Adam,’ I whispered. ‘We’re going home.’
    v) Tony
    The next day, I persuaded Adam that we should go back to the house one last time. My desire to see Anthony once more was a craving too strong to deny. So when he came out of the
house and flung a small red ball which hit me on the forehead, I blinked away my tears of pain and said gaily, ‘Anthony! How lovely to see you!’
    ‘I’m not Anthony, I’m called Tony,’ he replied sullenly.
    ‘Is your dad in?’
    ‘He’s out. So’s Mum. You can wait.’ He shrugged and turned away. I sidled into the kitchen, clutching Adam’s hand tightly. And then I saw the letter, lying on the
kitchen table. The moment I saw the word
Tony
in swirly letters, I knew exactly what it was. Anthony’s angry words floated back to me:
She went without even leaving a note
...
    Oh God. Today was the day. Marie had gone, walked out. And this letter was all Anthony had.
    I knew it was wrong, but I found myself opening the note and skimming it, just to check. After only a few sentences, I felt tears fill my eyes and slotted it back into the envelope. Bewilderment
overcame me – why the hell hadn’t Anthony ever received this?
    Peter, I realised.
    In about ten minutes’ time Peter would return home, see the letter and feel destroyed. And in turn he would feel so bitter, he would, I presumed, tear it up. Then he would call Anthony and
tell him they were going to live in America.
    ‘She didn’t get in touch with me for years,’ I remembered Anthony saying. But maybe she did try to, I thought feverishly; maybe when they moved to the States she had no idea
where they were. By the time she did track them down, it was too late: Anthony had hardened his heart against her and refused to let her back in.
    In the meantime, Anthony would live with his father in California. Peter would get a job as a film producer and date a series of younger, pretty women who all tried to mother Anthony, hoping
that in time this would encourage Peter to put a ring on their fingers. But due to his failed marriage, Peter would never really trust a woman again. And Anthony, in turn, would grow up copying his
father, eating his way through women until perhaps, one day he woke up and decided he was sick of such a shallow lifestyle, that history was repeating itself. Perhaps that was the moment he decided
to come to England, where he would meet a girl called Lucy and flip over to the other extreme – a desperate desire for a traditional relationship.
    Suddenly I felt a flood of sympathy for Anthony’s behaviour. In truth, though I had tried to understand why he could be so jealous at times, I’d never really got my head or my heart
around it. Now, finally, it all fell into place. I suddenly felt full of longing for Anthony to materialise here and now so that I could give him a huge hug and say sorry.
    Suddenly I heard footsteps in the distance and Jagabhandu’s lilting hum. Quickly I grabbed the letter.
    ‘You can’t take it Auntie Lucy, it’s not yours,’ Adam hissed in protest.
    ‘Adam, you’re never going to make it into MI5 with that attitude,’ I hissed back. ‘Now come on!’
    I ran out into the garden and grabbed Anthony. I knelt down in front of him and shoved the letter into his hands.
    ‘I want you to take this letter and hide it. It’s very important.’
    Anthony, taken aback by the intensity of my voice, nodded obediently for once.
    ‘And then you wait for a time when your daddy’s gone out and you take this letter out and read it. It’s very important, see? It’s got secrets in that only you are allowed
to know.’
    ‘OK,’ said Anthony, looking dumbfounded. ‘OK.’
    I will never forget how it felt to walk out of that garden and glance back at Anthony, standing under the hot sun, his