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without so much as a hint of hesitation, as he shook her hand. ‘But presumably if you’re working on Helen’s life story you already know all about that. Delighted to meet you. Helen is the most amazing woman.’ He turned to look at her affectionately. ‘Amazing. I’m really lucky to share my life with her.’ He moved across the room and brushed his lips across Helen’s, which made something inside her flutter; he was gorgeous. She glanced up at him, wondering not for the first time if this was some kind of cruel trick. ‘God only knows why she puts up with me.’

      Natalia reddened and opened her mouth to say something, but Bon didn’t pause to let her catch up. ‘Anyway, I’m just going to go and grab a shower and then I’ll fix us some lunch. You are staying for lunch, aren’t you, Natalia? I realise it’s a bit late but we’ve both had a busy morning –’

      The girl glanced at Helen who nodded. ‘Please,’ Helen said. ‘You’d be more than welcome, and Bon is a superb cook.’

      ‘Well, yes then, sure, if it’s okay with you.’

      ‘Got to be better than a supermarket sandwich,’ Bon said. ‘I’m thinking hot spicy shredded chicken with avocado on baby leaves drizzled with raspberry vinaigrette. Does that sound all right to you?’

      ‘Sounds fabulous,’ said Natalia.

      Helen laughed in spite of herself. ‘Don’t encourage him,’ she said and then smiled up at Bon. ‘He thinks about food all the time he’s working out. I have no idea why he doesn’t weigh twenty stone. I keep thinking that one of these days we should open a restaurant.’

      Bon bent down and kissed her. ‘And how boring would that be, cooking the same thing over and over? Lunch in say, half an hour?’

      ‘Fine by me; how about you, Natalia?’

      The girl nodded.

      ‘Great,’ said Bon. ‘Oh and I’ve got a meeting at four. Libby and I are working on the costumes for the show we’re taking to Dubai –’ he continued, aiming his remarks at Helen. Libby. It felt like he was mentioning her a lot lately.

      ‘You’re a dancer, that’s right, isn’t it?’ Natalia was saying, pen poised over her pad.

      Bon nodded. ‘Yes, that’s right, although I’m actually more about the choreography these days, and I’ve helped produce some of the shows we take out on tour.’

      ‘We?’ said Natalia, all eagerness and enthusiasm, clutching her pen. ‘Is this something new for you, Helen?’

      ‘Don’t look at me,’ said Helen, holding up her hands. ‘I can’t dance and have no intention of taking it up now. No, this is definitely Bon’s baby.’

      ‘Mine and Libby’s,’ Bon said. ‘Libby Sherwood, she’s my agent.’

      There she was again.

      ‘So how long have you and Helen been together?’ Natalia asked.

      Bon smiled. ‘Not long enough. Now I really have to go. I’ll give you a shout when food’s ready. You okay for drinks?’

      ‘I’m fine,’ said Helen.

      ‘Me too,’ said Natalia brightly, doing her little trick with the water bottle. Helen watched Natalia watch Bon cross the room and head back down the stairs.

      After a second or two Natalia turned back to Helen and realised Helen had been watching her watching him. She bit her bottom lip and looked horribly self-conscious.

      ‘He seems very nice,’ Natalia said with feigned casualness, turning her attention quickly back to her notepad.

      Helen laughed. ‘Oh, he is. And he has got the cutest arse, hasn’t he?’

      Natalia turned pillar-box red and was about to protest.

      ‘It’s fine,’ said Helen with a smile. ‘You’re welcome to admire the scenery – lots of people do.’

      Natalia’s colour deepened. ‘Where were we?’ she said, faffing around with her notebook and laptop in what appeared to be a show of regaining her composure.

      ‘My mother,’ suggested Helen helpfully.

      ‘Oh yes,’ said Natalia, with equal discomfort.

      ‘I’m not the only little girl whose mother walked out on her family.’

      ‘I know,’ said Natalia. ‘But it is something that a lot of people will be curious about. It must have had a profound effect on you. On your relationships; on your own views on children and families.’

      ‘I didn’t have children,’ said Helen briskly. ‘So it didn’t arise.’

      ‘Was that because of your mum?’ pressed Natalia.

      Helen shook her head. ‘No, it hadn’t got anything to do with her. I suppose it must have had an effect, but I was open to the idea of having a family. I was just never with the right person at the right time.’ She paused. Natalia was scribbling away furiously. When Helen stopped she looked up.

      ‘I’m sorry,’ Natalia said. ‘You were saying?’

      ‘I suppose looking back if I had wanted them enough I would have had them, but it didn’t happen.’

      ‘It didn’t happen,’ she repeated.

      ‘No,’ said Helen. ‘There was always another job, another part, always something else coming along, and then it was just too late.’

      ‘And so you don’t think that was because of your mum?’

      Helen shook her head. ‘No, quite the reverse; in some ways her leaving made me make more of my life. I probably took more chances, more risks, enjoyed all of life while it was there. Her going made me realise that nothing is as safe as it first appears. But it wasn’t just me, it affected my dad too, his work – his friends. I was very small when it happened, but I was old enough to know something was going on; old enough to miss her, but not old enough for anyone to explain it to me. In those days I’m not sure how much notice people took of children’s emotions. I think because children hadn’t got the words to express what they were feeling people just assumed they didn’t feel anything – although to be fair, no-one really talked about my mum once she was gone. No-one at all. It was like a door had opened up somewhere and she just walked through it. Some days I wonder if I imagined her and that perhaps she had never existed at all.’

      ‘Did you think she was dead?’ asked Natalia.

      Helen watched the younger woman’s face carefully, wondering what it was that Roots had managed to uncover. Natalia’s body language gave nothing away.

      ‘I didn’t know then, and I don’t know now. I still don’t have any idea what happened to her.’

      ‘It’s such an interesting thread. Weren’t you ever curious? I’m sure I would have been. Didn’t you try to find her?’

      ‘No,’ snapped Helen.

      Natalia looked surprised. ‘What, never?’

      ‘Like I said, no one talked about her at home and back then I was powerless to look; looking or asking would have felt like I was betraying my dad. And what if me asking too many questions made him go away too? I remember reading in the Sunday papers about people losing their memories and wondered if that was what had happened to her and that maybe one day, some day she would remember us and just come home.

      ‘I had a lady to come in and sit with me if my dad was going to be late home from work. Mrs Eades. I didn’t like her very much and I was terrified that she might end up looking after me permanently if my dad didn’t come back – but no, I didn’t look, I didn’t ask.’

      Helen glanced across; Natalia was busy making copious notes.

      ‘Please,’ she pressed, when Helen stopped speaking, ‘It’s really interesting.’

      ‘I

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