"That experience has to be the most ridiculous I've felt in a very long time," Erik said as he emerged from the bathroom. "The introduction Meg gave - !"

Christine immediately smiled at the memory and had to quickly sober when the stare her gave her was somewhat less than amused. "Yes, well, she went a bit further than I expected, but that's Meg all over. I wouldn't worry; it was just a joke, and I'm sure Alfie will edit half of it out. We don't want to bore the potential audience to death."

"Perhaps." He didn't look convinced. Shrugging off his dressing gown he slid into bed beside her and reached for the doorstop biography of Napoleon he'd been working his way through for the past couple of weeks, tutting every now and then at perceived inaccuracies. A couple of pages turned before he sighed in frustration. "I'm going to look like a complete idiot."

"You could never be that," she assured him, and he just grunted. "Anyway, if by some unlucky chance you do look stupid you won't be the only one; Meg sent up all three of us. And she needn't think she's got away with the Evita crack that she conveniently forgot to warn me about."

He smiled slightly. "You never told me you wanted to play Eva Peron."

"I don't tell you everything, do I? Anyway, it was years ago, before I even met you, when the Madonna film came out."

"That was back in the nineties. Weren't you about ten at the time?" Erik enquired, lifting an eyebrow.

Christine flushed. "So I had a dream, what's wrong with that?"

"Absolutely nothing," he said, returning to his book. "Just as long as it doesn't involve tangoing with Mike Dobson." He shot her a sly glance. "Do you really think he's 'hunky'?"

"Oh stop it," she ordered, slapping him on the arm and feeling the heat in her cheeks rise even further. "Meg made that up! I've never said any such thing. I'll kill her when I see her next; I'm never telling her anything ever again."

He still looked far too amused for his own good. "Should I be jealous?" he wondered, looking thoughtful. "I suppose he would be regarded as attractive by some: chiselled good looks, soulful blue eyes, a touch of designer stubble. Still has his own hair - "

" – and a fiancée of six years' standing with a baby on the way." Laughing, she hit him again and this time he yelped, rubbing the afflicted area as though mortally wounded. "He's not my type. For some reason I seem to go for tall, thin and provoking."

"You didn't always."

She bent over him, her nose almost touching the mangled end of his. "My tastes have changed."

"Oh, really?" he asked, the corner of his mouth twitching as his mismatched gaze bored directly into hers.

"Really. It seems I'm becoming more discerning as I get older." Christine brushed her lips lightly over his; he leaned in, eyes fluttering closed, but before he could properly respond she pulled back and cupped his unmarred cheek with one hand, pinching it slightly. "Don't make me change my mind."

"You are a horrible tease sometimes, Mrs Claudin," Erik complained as she gave her pillows a couple of thumps and turned over, settling down with her back to him.

"I'll make it up to you," she promised.

"So you keep saying. I'm offered all of these IOUs, but the day of payment never seems to come."

Christine rolled back and reached up to give him a quick kiss which seemed to mollify him a little. "It will when we don't have the risk of a four-year-old joining us without warning. I don't know what's up with her this week; she's always been so good at sleeping through, not like Allegra. That one was a regular little night owl."

"Not any more, thank goodness." He turned back to his book and she took that as a cue for her to lie down again. She had just got comfortable, about to close her eyes, when he said, "Annie looked strangely pleased this afternoon. I don't think I've ever seen her smile for so long."

She sighed; she obviously wasn't going to be allowed to sleep just yet. "I have. On our wedding day."

"The two situations are hardly comparable."

"Oh, I don't know." Propping herself on one elbow she twisted round to look at him. There was a familiar frown embedded between his eyebrows. "She was happy. Her awkward and social-phobic eldest is making his final steps towards a normal life."

Erik's eyes widened. "Annie is not my mother!" he exclaimed in consternation. "Apart from the very obvious fact that I already have one, we're practically the same age!"

"That doesn't make any difference. She still thinks of you as another child, always has done. It's true," she insisted when he shook his head. "And since she's been pretty much like a mother to me since I became friends with Meg you're virtually a son-in-law. She's proud of you, that's all."

"For taking part in some silly competition? I wasn't even singing."

Christine shrugged. "So what? You were willing to put yourself out there, to be seen potentially by thousands of people, the very idea of which has terrified you for years. I can't blame Madame for being pleased; I am too."

His gaze flicked over to her. "Are you?"

"Yes, very. Shouldn't I be?"

He seemed to consider that for a moment, and slumped back against the pillows. "You're very easily pleased."

"Not always. I just know how hard these things are for you. And so does Madame." She linked her fingers with his, giving them a squeeze. "You should give yourself some credit; you've made a huge step forward."

"If that's the case, why do I feel so foolish?"

"Because you're being too critical," Christine told him firmly. "You were wonderful."

Erik snorted. "I doubt anyone would watch that video and agree with you. I was so nervous I must have looked like a rank amateur; that accidental chord - "

"Alfie will sort it out. No one would ever think you were an amateur once you started playing."

"I very much doubt anyone will be listening to me." He turned slightly, trailing one long finger beneath her chin and tilting her face so he could look at her properly. "Though I know I should remain strictly impartial where members of my company are concerned, you were sublime, as always."

"Oh, I think that in our bed you're perfectly allowed to play favourites," she said, voice husky as her eyes locked on his. "In fact, I absolutely forbid you to consider anyone else."

"That's good." His bloated lips, so strange to look at but so incredibly soft and sensitive, started to descend towards hers. "There's no one else I would even wish to think about."

Christie let out a contented hum as he kissed her, one hand gripping the sleeve of his pyjama shirt, the silk smooth and cool beneath her fingers in contrast to the heat that was beginning to pool in other parts of her anatomy. As he drew her closer she was quite happy to melt against him, forgetting her earlier protestations until, when his hand was sliding down her hip, she heard the bedroom door quietly open.

They quickly broke apart as Gigi, at her tender age naturally completely oblivious to her parents' discomfiture, tiptoed across the room and ducked under the bottom of the duvet; she crawled her way up to the head of the mattress, eventually emerging between them just as she had done the past three evenings. Each time she had been swiftly been put back in her own bed, but, apparently undeterred, she returned the following night. They had yet to discover the reason.

Erik, face flushing, hurriedly slipped out before she could snuggle up to him. "I – um – I'll be back in a minute," he mumbled, and fled towards the bathroom.

"Is something matter with Daddy?" Gigi asked, looking put out for a moment before cuddling into her mother's side instead.

"No, darling, he just needs a glass of water." And a cold shower, Christine added silently as, despite her desire to avoid just this kind of situation, she found herself desperately trying not to laugh.

"Something wrong?" Erik asked a few days later when Allegra threw her school bag into the corner and stormed up the stairs without even looking at him.

Christine shut the front door and began divesting Gigi of her coat. "I know you usually keep out of the way when the kids' friends come round, but do you remember Lily?"

He considered. "Small girl with pigtails and a My Little Pony backpack?"

"She had those when she was five," she chided. "That was over four years ago."

"It's probably been that long since I last saw her." He lifted an eyebrow as a door upstairs slammed, making one of the pictures on the wall swing back and forth. "Have they had an argument?"

"Sort of. Lily's parents are moving before the end of the summer term. To Cornwall."

The light of understanding dawned. "Ah."

"Indeed." Christine gave Gigi a pat. "Why don't you finish those pictures you were drawing with Granny? I'm sure Dad would like to see them," she said, adding as her youngest snatched up her satchel and hurried away, "And don't annoy your sister! She's upset."

"Cornwall, eh?" Erik remarked, heading for the kitchen. "I'm surprised there will be room for them; half of London seems to have decided to travel west. The Cornish have my sincere sympathy."

Christine sat down wearily on one of the island stools and gratefully accepted the glass of wine he poured for her. Allegra had been mute on the way home from Angela's, continuing her stony silence no matter what her mother did to try and draw her out, teeth clenched and face set in a thunderous expression that looked as though it would eventually be painful to keep up. Knowing her daughter's temper, Christine didn't like to think what might have been said between the two friends when Lily revealed her family's plans. "I don't think she'll get over this in a few days. Lily's her best friend."

"They can still be friends, surely? It's easier than ever to keep in touch these days."

"Friendships need work, or they wither." She took a sip of chardonnay. "Kids don't have the attention span for that kind of commitment."

Erik shrugged. "Then they'll find it easier to move on."

"It's not something to just brush under the carpet. Those two were inseparable before the pandemic hit; you should have heard the screaming when they saw finally each other again last year. Childhood friendships are important."

He picked up his own glass, regarding her steadily over the rim. When he spoke his tone was even but the glint in his eyes was hard. "Yes, well, I wouldn't know about that, would I?"

"I know. I'm sorry." With a groan of frustration Christine sank her fingers into her hair, tugging at the roots. Him being difficult was the last thing she needed. "I just mean that we should to give her a bit of space, that's all. It's a big deal; she needs time to process it."

"Yes. Yes, you're right," he admitted with a sigh, running a hand over his face. "That was petty of me; I shouldn't have said it."

"It's all right." She propped her chin on one fist, watching him as he started to get dinner ready. "I've been wondering what we should do about her birthday."

"Don't you usually ask her?"

"Well, normally, but things haven't exactly been normal lately, have they?"

There was the sound of clanking as he fished about in the drawer below the oven for a pan. "Isn't it a bit early to start planning? It's not for weeks."

"It's next month," Christine pointed out. "We'll be able to have indoor visitors by then but I'm not sure I really feel comfortable with the idea of a house full of boisterous tweenage girls. They can get a bit, well... loud. I'd fear for your hearing."

"And my sanity."

"That too. Do you think that maybe..." She glanced at him; Erik stopped what he was doing and folded his arms, leaning on the counter behind him.

"Maybe...?" he prompted, brow arched.

"What do you think about a trip to the theatre?"

He looked surprised. "I suppose it's possible. Will any of the big names have reopened by then?"

"No, I don't mean to see a show, I mean to our theatre, to the Vanburgh. The kids have only ever been in the audience for the pantomimes, or come for a quick trip to my dressing room. I thought they might like to see backstage, to have a tour and find out how things work," Christine said. "We could show them the costume department and how the lights are operated, let them come on stage, maybe even watch a rehearsal. What do you think?"

Reaching for his wine glass again, Erik swirled the contents around a few times. "Would we be able to square it with the Covid regulations? I'm not sure what they say about school trips, and I don't want to lay myself open to accusations of putting other people's children at risk."

"I don't mean that many; just a couple of Allegra's closest friends, perhaps. I don't think Lily leaves until after her birthday. It would give them both a nice memory to hold on to," she added when he looked uncertain. "Shall we suggest it to her?"

After a few more moments of rumination, he nodded. "Yes, all right. I suppose it will be easier to keep an eye on them, and we won't have to worry about the house being trashed."

Christine got up, and collecting her handbag headed for the door, stopping on the way to give him a peck on the cheek. "Thank you; I appreciate it. What's on tonight's menu?" she asked, taking a peek at the ingredients he'd just removed from the fridge.

"Stir-fried pork with Singapore noodles. Is that satisfactory to madam?" he enquired.

"It most certainly is satisfactory. I knew there was a reason I kept you around," she joked; he pretended to look hurt so she kissed him again.

Dinner was a subdued affair.

Christine attempted to persuade Allegra to come out of her room, only for her tearful daughter to shout that she wasn't hungry and wanted to be left alone. Though she could have just walked in regardless Christine respected her children's privacy as much as possible, so she sent Erik up to try instead; she waited in the hall, listening intently when he knocked on the door, able to see his long form leaning against the wall from where she stood at the bottom of the stairs.

"Allegra, dinner's ready," he said quietly, keeping his voice level.

The shrill reply he received was much the same as that directed at Christine. "I don't want any!"

There was a long pause; Erik didn't move, asking when she probably thought he had gone, "When did you last have something to eat?"

This time the reply was spoken rather than yelled and Christine had to strain to hear it. "Lunchtime."

"I would have thought that you must be hungry by now."

Another pause. "I'm not."

"Then can I ask how long you're intending to continue this fast? I'd like to know so that I don't cook food that's just going to be wasted." She didn't respond, and Christine heard him sigh. "Sweetheart, I know you're angry, and upset, but starving yourself isn't going to help anyone. Believe me, I've tried it and it hurt me more than the other person. A lot more."

"Did... did you stop eating?" Allegra asked hesitantly.

"Yes, once," Erik admitted, "and it was one of the silliest things I've ever done. Please don't be as stupid as me. One skeleton in this family is more than enough."

Silence followed that remark and Christine prepared for an argument she really didn't want, her arm around a confused Gigi to keep her out of the firing line. To her surprise, after nearly two minutes Allegra's door slowly opened and her tearstained face appeared around it. "I don't want her to go, Dad!" she wailed, sucking in an audibly unsteady breath before she flung herself into her father's arms.

"I know, petite, I know," he soothed, folding them around her and lifting her as though she was no older than Gigi, carrying her down the stairs. "You'll feel better when you've had some food, I promise."

To give Allegra her due, she did try but spent more time pushing food around on her plate than actually eating. Watching her Christine decided that given the circumstances she would waive the usual no chocolate biscuits before bed rule; it would do her daughter no good to have an empty stomach in the night. Erik did his best to distract Gigi by asking what she had been doing with Granny and whether she was looking forward to returning to nursery the following week, but that didn't stop him glancing at their eldest every so often in the apparent hope that she would have cleared even a little of her dinner.

In all honesty, apart from Gigi none of them really ate all that much; Christine's stomach was knotted with worry and Erik had never had a big appetite to begin with. At last he began to tidy the plates away and she wondered whether telling Allegra about her plans for a birthday treat would be a good idea, if only to give her something else to focus on, when her phone chimed. "Oh!" she said, surprised to see who the message was from; usually the only people to regularly contact her outside of the company WhatsApp group were Meg and Teddy. "Alfie's sent me a link to the first cut of our video. He says he's been working on it all weekend."

"It is real, then?" Erik asked, starting the dishwasher. "I'd started to convince myself it had all been a horrible dream."

"Do you want to see what he's done?"

His expression was pained. "Must I?"

She opened her mouth to retort something but Allegra got there first, looking up from her placemat, at which she had been staring for most of the meal, with something akin to interest. "What video?"

"Just something nonsensical for the theatre," Erik replied. "It will doubtless be a complete disaster."

"Are you in it?"

"Yes," Christine said, and she brightened further. "Would you like to see?"

"I really don't understand why we need to watch this," Erik complained as they settled on the sofa, Gigi on Christine's lap and Allegra in the middle in charge of the iPad.

"You know why," Christine told him. "Besides, I want to, and the girls want to - "

"Fine, fine. I'll just sit here and quietly die of embarrassment."

"You do that. Have you found the right page?" she asked, checking the text Alfie had sent again.

"I think so. 'Battle of the Divas Episode One' – is that it?" Allegra asked.

"Unfortunately, yes," her father replied, only to be shushed by Christine. Allegra hit play; stylised titles appeared and then they all, baring Erik, jumped as an intro, a series of ominous chords, blared from the tablet's speaker. After a few beats the chords resolved themselves into a theme of sorts, one that sounded not unlike something Rocky Balboa might have used to enter the ring, albeit with a very operatic twist. Christine looked over at her husband.

"You wrote that, didn't you?"

He shrugged. "Alfie asked if I could come up with something. It was ten minutes' work, and I'm not exactly proud of it."

"I think it sounds great," Allegra said. "Well done, Dad."

He blinked, slightly nonplussed. "Thank you."

"Hey, look, there you are, Mum!" she announced as the camera swooped around the stage. There was a sudden overhead shot and Christine realised there must have been more cameras up in the flies. "And Auntie Meg! She looks like she's trying to audition for presenting Strictly; her smile's even wider than Tess Daly's!"

Thankfully, Alfie had edited Meg's fulsome introductions down considerably, removing the comment about Mike and the tango after Christine had appealed to his better nature and also offered him a bottle of Bombay Sapphire as a bribe. The girls were all excitable chatter, laughing at Teddy's antics and cooing over how pretty they thought their mother looked. At the sound of their father's name, however, both pairs of small ears immediately pricked up and Christine knew Erik was holding his breath, wondering exactly how much of the footage Alfie had kept in. Gigi and Allegra squealed in delight as he appeared, but he needn't have worried; his startled reaction and consequent minor fifth mistake were nowhere to be seen; he looked dignified and really quite imposing behind the piano as he nodded in acknowledgment.

"Dad!" Allegra all but screamed. "You did it! But you said you wouldn't play!"

"Yes, well... a man can change his mind," he told her weakly. He glanced at Christine for support. "Can't he?"

"Of course he can," she replied with a smile.

Their daughters watched with wide eyes, commenting every so often as Theodora sang, her performance intercut with shots of the audience and Christine as she listened to her rival. When it was time for their mother to take her turn they were completely silent, bar a couple of happy squeaks as Alfie added more than a few cutaways to Erik at the piano, his fingers flying effortlessly over the keys and eyes fixed firmly on his wife.

"You've got to win, Mum," Allegra said when the video came to an end, and Gigi nodded in agreement. "I love Auntie Teddy, but you just knocked it out of the park."

Christine leaned over to kiss the top of her head, returning the hug with which her youngest was apparently trying to crush her. "We'll see. There are another four heats to go, and the rest don't feature songs from my repertoire."

That didn't seem to faze Allegra. "You'll win it anyway," she insisted, asking after a moment's hesitation, "Is this going online, for everyone to see? I mean, I can show it to my friends?"

"It certainly is, and yes, of course you can."

"Then I'll make sure everyone votes for you."

"I appreciate the sentiment, toots, but vote-rigging isn't allowed," Christine said, laughing when she looked put out at the news. "What did you think of Dad? He looks good on screen, doesn't he?"

Gigi nodded. "Is Daddy going to be on TV?"

"No, darling, only YouTube. And I think that's quite enough for him," Christine told her, glancing over at her husband. "Isn't it, Erik?"

"More than enough," he agreed. He cleared his throat awkwardly and hesitantly touched Allegra on the arm. "Did you like it?"

He received his answer two seconds later when her arms were wrapped tightly around his neck. "I can finally share you with my friends!" she exclaimed, her voice muffled by his waistcoat. "Everyone can see my Dad! Of course I like it!"

"Really?" he asked, surprised.

She pulled back. "Really," she confirmed, and looked more than a little smug when she added, "They are going to be so jealous."