A week later Lydia ringed again but this time her call had nothing to do with Pat.

"It's about Jane," she said, "she's finally moving and invites us to her new place for a sort of a garden party."

Jane and her family moved to Brighton only a few months before she met Lydia. They rented a flat for a year while looking for a suitable accommodation. Finally they found one they all loved. It was in Lewes Crescent, one of the most pleasant places in Brighton. The four-bedroom flat accommodating on two levels had a splendid living room and plenty of space for children including a playroom, their own computer room and last but not least an endless corridor where a person with enough imagination and tolerant neighbours could roller-skate, play football or simply run to and fro shouting like mad with emotions. For them who don't know Brighton very well I can tell that one of the best features of the Lewes Crescent is its beautiful common garden. It gorgeous at any time of the year as it has a very good gardener, but in summer time it's heavenly.

Those who know Brighton very well but have never lived in Lewes Crescent probably aren't aware that there is a secret tunnel which starts in this garden, runs under the sea-front road and opens straight to the beach. The tunnel has a small inconspicuous gate on the outside and people passing it sometimes look pretty surprised seeing somebody getting out through it. They said that the one and only Lewis Carroll turned this particular tunnel into that famous Rabbit Hole. I don't know whether it's true or not but the fact is he used to stay with his friends on Sussex Square which is adjacent to Lewes Crescent.

In this enchanted garden Jane entertained her friends one beautiful afternoon at the end of June. They took out rugs and cushions and numerous plates and bowls. Jane made a delightful cold lunch of many delicious things of which the best were oriental chicken salad and salad with fried aubergines.

The month which passed from their last party was rather uneventful for almost all of them. Kitty and Lawrence lived like they lived before Hippopotamus' party pretending that nothing had ever happened with Kitty acting as if she didn't know about her husband's affair and him trying to forget that he ever had one. Mary was again without a partner for the Wednesdays' doubles as Dan blushing and stammering told her that he couldn't play with her anymore. Although she didn't ask him why to spare him from even more uncomfortable explanation, Dan still hated her for him being horrible to her. That's human logic to you.

As for Lydia, she consumed her grief and a total disappointment in life in such huge quantities that if her misery were food she would put on about twenty stone. She bought three black dresses as a tribute to her mourning. Needless to say all of them were evening dresses. Elisabeth was still leading a life of a nun though she flew to America for a long weekend with Superstar who was still terribly busy with his new film. Patrick said later that she returned looking as smug as a cat which found a gallon of cream and dealt with it accordingly.

"God, am I happy to see you or not?" were his first words with which he greeted her storming into her flat.

"What's up?" Elisabeth asked coolly knowing very well what was up.

"You promised to take care of me and left for three days! And what for? For pure sin! One of the deadliest as a matter of fact. Was he good?"

"I don't know if that's any of your business…but yes, he was terrific! I think I'm even more in love than ever."

"Look at you! You disgust me, woman! You gloat over your puny little affairs while I'm slowly and painfully dying of hunger right in front of your eyes. And that's after you sworn to become my second mother!"

"I don't remember promising you anything like that."

"Liar! You told me that you would cook for me. Where's my dinner? Did you really fly in his personal jet?"

"Yes." Elisabeth said smiling.

"You have to tell me all about that. Over the meal. I'll go and fetch a bottle to toast your happy return and you cook something. Something easy. But nice. And not necessarily easy."

So she cooked him pork "Collier" and for that he had to listen to her full report about the weekend with Superstar. Terry the Cat was luckier: he was already back to Elisabeth's mum.

Kitty was the first to detect that something was wrong with Jane. After learning about Lawrence's unfaithfulness Kitty changed a lot. Before she belonged to that happy type who thought only good things of the world around shutting eyes and ears not only to the faults of thy neighbour but also to one's misery and distress. Now she became pretty thin-skinned and that was why she sensed Jane's sadness while Mary, Elisabeth and Lydia didn't notice anything. When confronted Jane at first tried to convince her friends that everything was alright but then cracked.

Jane never befriended anyone before. She grew a quiet secretive child who didn't get close with other schoolchildren or even with the one of her numerous and outgoing cousins. She married a suitable young man when she was nineteen. It was almost pre-arranged marriage as they both came from extended families of old-fashioned traditions and their grandmothers were great friends. They led serene and moneyed existence with Jane homemaking and her husband being a true workaholic like all the men in his or Jane's family. Charles was her first love and Kitty, Mary, Lydia and Elisabeth were here first soul mates. During the last months they all were through a lot together and Jane learned how supportive a friendly sympathy could be. That's why in the end she risked to confide her secret to them.

"I don't believe it!" said Kitty when Jane told them the part you already know. "You, you're having an affair? It's impossible. It's rubbish. It can't be! Can it?"

"Actually, I'm not," said Jane, "not anymore. He dumped me."

"Oh no," said Mary tearfully, "this is even worse. What happened?"

When Jane met Charles first time after Elisabeth's housewarming party she had already made up her mind. For the last months she felt as if she dwelled in two different Universes. In one there were Adam, and her boys, and home, and old, uneventful, convenient yet so bleak, life. It was always sunny in the other because the entire Universe rotated around one brighter than bright sun.

Charles.

She, Jane, nice, timid, mousy Jane, Jane-with-whom-nothing-ever-happens, lived two lives and she was tired of this duality and wanted to have only one. With Charles.

They had a pleasant lunch in a little welcoming seafood restaurant but Jane was too nervous to enjoy her food. She was preparing herself for the vital step. Charles didn't look his usual confident self either. He started first.

"We have to talk," he said, "we are friends, aren't we? So I can talk to you openly and sincerely, can't I?"

Jane didn't like him calling her his friend, that wouldn't be how she would describe their relationship, but she was impatient to hear what he wanted to say even if she believed that she knew what it would be all about. One fine writer said that there is no woman in the world who doesn't know about forthcoming proposal. Unfortunately in Jane's case it wasn't about forthcoming proposal even if she expected it and nothing else.

"I'm thinking about going back to Canada," said Charles meanwhile.

Jane froze with her forkful of fish "Caspian" in the air.

Canada, Jane thought in dismay, why Canada? I don't know that I can live there and kids…what if Adam won't allow them to leave the UK?

"Why Canada," she said, "aren't you happy with your job here?"

She didn't say "with your life" because his life included her and he couldn't be unhappy with her. Why would he?

"It's not the job," he answered, "it's a woman."

"A woman?" Elisabeth asked thinking that she misheard Jane.

"A woman?" Lydia repeated with the same intonation although she didn't have any intention to do that.

Her name was Jacqueline and Charles met her when he was still working in Canada. They had a one night stand and parted for never to see each other again. But we can plan and plan and then Her Majesty Fate interfere and everything goes off the rail. In Charles' case it was his second encounter with Jacqueline during some business conference in Florida.

"And this "second encounter" happened precisely when?" Elisabeth asked suspiciously.

"Last month," said Jane miserably.

She felt such a fool. Last month they were still making love to each other. Last month she was thinking about leaving Adam. True, last month Charles did start to behave oddly but she thought it was because he too wanted them to be together.

He recognised Jacqueline immediately, she in her turn didn't recognise him at all. He didn't like that. Charles belonged to the category of men who thought that they were absolutely unforgettable and each woman they met had to remember them every night with utter gratitude in her heart. Such a God's gift! He tried to talk to Jacqueline but she was always with somebody, he sought her company but she was too busy. Yet the Fate, old joker, made them neighbours in the hotel in which they stayed. The last day of the conference was oppressively hot but there was heavy rain later in the evening and when it stopped everything outside was clean, refreshed and joyful. After dinner Charles went with a few colleagues to the restaurant bar. From it they moved to another and in the end he lost count how many similar establishments they had visited. He wasn't drunk when they returned to the hotel, only happy, he didn't want to sleep even if it was way after midnight and went to the balcony for a smoke. He didn't smoke normally but from time to time he enjoyed an occasional cigarette. He was intrigued by soft rhythmical ra-ta-ta-tat coming from the left. He leaned forward and saw Jacqueline smoking too and at the same time typing frantically on her laptop. He called her name, he had to do it twice before she lifted her head and looked at him briefly. Then she turned her attention back to the computer. Perhaps if he had not one drink too many he would never dare to do what he did after that: he climbed to her balcony. Their rooms weren't on dramatic seventh or head-spinning thirty seventh floor, no, they were on second one but it didn't diminish the romantic touch of his gesture.

"Why did you do that?" Jacqueline said unemotionally resuming her work.

"I wanted to talk."

"Why?"

"Can't sleep. The night is too beautiful to waste it."

"I don't waste it."

"I haven't seen you in the restaurant tonight. Did you have your dinner somewhere else?"

"Didn't have it at all."

"Shame. We had most delicious meal. Their chef is a genius. Why don't they give Nobel prizes for cooking?"

"M-mm."

"Look, whatever you do is it so important right now? It's our last night here, let's have a drink together or something and talk."

"What about?" she said with some surprise but nevertheless he ordered them drinks and she accepted hers obediently.

At the beginning it was he who did most of the talking but gradually she relaxed, started to smile and respond. They also continued drinking. Much later he managed to get her in bed. He tried very hard and she seemed to be exhausted by his efforts. Yet when he woke up her side of the bed was empty with Jacqueline bending on the balcony over her laptop.

"Come here!" he called her in that tender yet demanding voice men allow themselves after a successful night, or at least what they thought was a successful night.

She didn't even bother to answer so to feel himself a real man and a master of the situation he had to go outside and bring her back to the bed. In the movies the hero always manage to carry his woman and very elegantly too, in real life very few can achieve the same effect, Charles didn't belong to those few but had no doubts that he did.

Jacqueline in the morning wasn't the same as she was during "the night of passion" although to be truthful she wasn't particularly enthusiastic during the night either. She was detached, inattentive and cold, and for her Charles wasn't a God's gift at all. Awww, poor li'l Charles. No wonder that he lost his head over her completely.

For the next two weeks he called her with persistence which would make Lydia to look like a shy little baby. In her office her secretary invariably answered that Ms Monroe wasn't available, couldn't talk or had a meeting. At home her answering machine in a voice which spookily reminded that of the secretary informed politely that Jacqueline wasn't in and offered to leave a message. There is no need to say that she didn't answer any of his messages. Finally when he was ready to fly to Canada and spend a week on her doormat her secretary called and read him Jacqueline's letter who sounded much more like some memo. It said that she was leaving for France for a week and if he could join her there she would be happy to entertain him in her summerhouse. He was there before her and waited in the airport for her flight landing with a half of a local flower shop in his hands.

She didn't come.

Well, she did but not with that flight. Some friend of hers offered her a place in his jet. She also didn't inform Charles in her letter that she was going to France not for a carefree vacation but to finish her new book (no, not fictional, God forbid!) so he spent most of the time in the romantic Mediterranean atmosphere enjoying the sight of the back of her head. Nevertheless when he returned to Britain he knew that he couldn't live without Jacqueline.

"Bastard!" Lydia said but it wasn't clear whether she meant Charles or somebody else she was thinking about at that moment.

"And you really were ready to leave your husband for him?" Kitty asked with sympathy.

Jane nodded. She wasn't sure what she expected from her friends after telling this story. She didn't get any better, the pain and sensation of hollowness were still there. The same pain, the same hollowness she felt when Charles told her about Jacqueline. She thought about Charles and wanted to cry. Instead she said:

"Finish your pudding and let's go back to flat for our coffee round."

The only cup worth of talking about was Mary's. It promised a lot: glorious holiday, tons of new friends and more importantly a real love interest.

"True," said Mary, "I am having my summer break soon but I don't think it's going to be exciting."

"Where do you go?" Lydia asked.

"To Greece. Mum's cousin lives there. She's not a proper cousin, something like second or even third but nevertheless they used to be close with mum although Aunt Debra after getting married hadn't lived in Britain much. Her husband worked for some company which always built airports in the most obscure places so they travelled all around the world and when he died she went to live in Greece. She liked the country very much, climate and all. Also her husband was half-Greek so there were a lot of friends and relatives there. Her son moved in with her recently and she wanted me to spend my break in their new house.

"Her son, hah?" Kitty said. "You said that she is a very distant relation, didn't you?"

"Oh, no, not Nick," said Mary making a face, "Nick is the dullest person in the world and only interested in his books."

"What books?"

"I don't know. Learning stuff. Whatever he read in Uni."

"Oh, I see. He is still in Uni, then," said Kitty losing interest.

"So what?" Lydia said. "He will be her toy-boy."

"What toy-boy," Mary cried, "he is two years older than I am."

"You said he is in Uni," said Kitty with return of interest, "and I assumed…"

"He was in Uni, when I saw him last time, but it was seven, no, eight years ago."

"Perhaps he changed," Kitty said meditatively, "perhaps…"

"Never," said Mary firmly and everybody understood that it wasn't just Nick dullness she hated about him.

"So it must be one of their Greek relatives," said Kitty hastily, trying to change the subject, "now, that's even better! They all are very romantic – or so I've heard."

"And they're hot," Elisabeth added, "so watch out, Mary."

They sat in a silence for a while musing about possibilities.

"Anyway," said Kitty, "I do hope you will meet somebody nice there, Mary. You do deserve that."

"We all deserve that." Mary said.

And they drink a toast for that.

…The second week of Mary's break started but Nick wasn't giving her a break.

There is no point to hide it: Mary was lazy. It didn't reflect on her work as she was a very conscientious person but outside the hospital (and tennis courts) she liked to do as little as possible. And even less. That's why she lived on sandwiches most of the time and tried to delay the cleaning of her flat till it became difficult to find anything there. She agreed on active winter holidays only because all her relatives loved skiing but her summer vacations she spent as she wished. That is: she usually slept half of the day and sunbathed for the other half turning languidly under the warm southern sun and dipping occasionally into equally warm seawater. She would do the same this time too if only Nick let her. But he didn't. He woke her up practically at the dawn and took her to places of interest (his interest) for sightseeing. After a week of such life Mary made a weak attempt to rebel. She tried to explain Nick that all she wanted was to swim in the sea and get some suntan. To her surprise he didn't argue. What's more he vowed to take her to the most picturesque beach like she never saw in her life.

It took them about forty minutes on his moped to get to the place. She didn't enjoy the ride, she didn't like and didn't trust anything on two wheels. Besides Nick was a pretty reckless driver. But she put up with it because she was looking forward to see the promised place. It simply had to be something outstanding, otherwise their trip didn't make any sense at all: Aunt Debra's house was only three minutes away from the local beach. Of course it wasn't ideal, it was packed with people at any time and there were so many tiny seafront cafes and various food stalls on it that the air instead smelling of freshness and sea salt reeked of fried meat and unrefined olive oil. But worst of all were pebbles, pebbles, pebbles. They were horrible. They were everywhere, the whole beach of pebbles. It was impossible to walk barefoot because of them, and when lying on her rug Mary felt each and every of them through it. "There won't be any pebbles!" said Nick very firmly.

And he was right.

There were no pebbles. Technically there was no beach either. But there was sea, enormous, boundless, omnipotent. When Mary saw it for the first time she decided that he took her to the end of the world where the blue emptiness began straight from the strip of dusty grass she was staying on. Sky was drowning in the sea and the turquoise abyss called and beckoned offering rest to all tired and unhappy.

"Beautiful, isn't it?" said Nick in the most ordinary voice. "I hope you haven't forgotten your swimming costume."

He himself was more interested in the contents of his rucksack into which his mum packed some food for their picnic.

When Mary looked at the sea from the top of the hill it seemed painfully blue and translucent. It wasn't so inviting when she (risking to break her legs) climbed down. The water was dark and opaque and Mary couldn't see the bottom. She thought of a sinister and fantastic chasm inhabited by monsters and legends started right from the shore, and shivered.

"Had a nice dip?" Nick asked with care when Mary joined him without even dampen her feet.

She felt like killing him.