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On an impulse, Florence rifled through her bedside drawer until she found her old flip-up phone directory. Within seconds she was dialling Tom's number.

`I don't believe it,' Tom exclaimed, `a call from the Dancing Queen herself! I swear, the phone hasn't stopped ringing today. Do you have any idea how many long-lost friends have come crawling out of the woodwork since that piece appeared in the paper? Not that you'd ever crawl, my darling,' he went on with habitual gallantry. `You'd shimmy.'

Florence laughed.

`My shimmying years are over. These days, I'm afraid, I definitely crawl.'

`Arthritis still playing up?' Tom sounded sympathetic.

`Oh, you know, the odd twinge.'

`And am I delighted to hear from you?' Florence heard the note of caution in his voice. `Or have you rung to tell me I'm off my rocker?'

`Is that what everyone else has been doing?'

`Come on. What d'you think?'

Florence glanced at the article spread across her lap. `You saw her in a mail-order catalogue and met her how long ago?'

`Three months.'

`She's from Thailand,' said Florence. `Are you sure she isn't a boy?'

Much gravelly laughter at the other end of the phone. Finally Tom managed to say, `Oh yes.'

`That's a start. Do you love her?'

`I do,' Tom replied.

`Does she love you?'

`I think so.'

`Are you ridiculously happy?'

`So happy it would make you sick.'

`Oh well,' said Florence, `in that case you're absolutely barking mad and I couldn't be happier for you. Go for it, prove those miserable doubters wrong, have a ball. And don't forget to invite me to the wedding.'

`You can be a bridesmaid if you want.' Tom's relief was audible. `Dear Florence. So you don't think I'm making the biggest mistake of my life?'

`If you're having fun, how can it be a mistake? The last thing I ordered from a mail-order catalogue was a non-stick saucepan,' Florence told him, `and after a week the bloody handle dropped off.'

`Christ, I hope mine doesn't.'She had to ask.

`How does Jennifer feel about all this?'

Jennifer was Tom's daughter. And Tom was a wealthy man. It was bound to concern her.

`Oh, Jennifer's a diamond. She's fine about it, behind me all the way. Says if I'm happy, she's happy. Look,' Tom spoke with enthusiasm, `we must get together again, it's been too long. Come to dinner next week, Flo. I want you to meet Maria.'

Hanging up the phone some minutes later, Florence sank back against the pillows and flipped through a few more pages of the paper. For want of anything better to do, she read her horoscope:

Oh dear, you've got yourself into a rut, haven't you? Time to do something about it. A bored person is a boring person…

`Blah blah blah,' said Florence, chucking the paper on to the floor. Honestly, talk about cheering you up. It was a good job she didn't believe in horoscopes.

Except there was no getting away from the fact that - whether she believed in them or not - this one was depressingly true.

Lucky Tom, she thought. Okay, so what he was doing might not work out, but at least he was giving it a go.

And even luckier Tom, Florence idly mused, to have a daughter who backed him all the way. Jennifer, after all, was the one who stood to lose out financially if the marriage went horribly wrong.

`Can't imagine you being so generous,' she said aloud, addressing the framed photograph of Bruce on her bedside table. `You wouldn't be so keen, would you, my sweet, if

you thought there was a chance of my money not going your way?'

`… and in June we start shooting the new Madhur Jaffrey film in Norfolk, starring Helena Bonham-Carter and Stephen Fry. My role isn't huge,' Miranda said modestly, `but it'll be great for the CV. Madhur and Jaffrey are so well thought of, that's the thing. If you've worked with them, people sit up and take notice. It proves you aren't just some bimbo,' she explained, `and that you really can act.'

And by jingo I can, Miranda thought happily. Was this a performance of a lifetime or what? Adrian - yeurgh, dumb name - was lapping it