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'Why?'

`Why? Because she'll go bloody ballistic if she finds ou and you haven't told her.'

Greg gave him a pitying look.

`She won't, though, will she? There's no reason why she should find out. I can trust you to keep your mouth shut can't I?'

`Well, yes, but-'

`Look,' Greg said brusquely, `what happened with Chloй wasn't my fault, was it? So why should I suffer now? Wh) should I be the one to get all the grief?'

`I know that. I'm just saying, why don't you tell Miranda then she'll know it too?' Adrian took a great slurp of beer marvelling at the situation he found himself in; the mora high ground was unfamiliar territory to him. Blimey, he'd be taking up counselling next!

But Greg was less amused.

`Oh, that's great. I'm getting a lecture from the bloke whose wife left him because in his spare time he drank fo England and screwed half the barmaids in Battersea.'

`Fine,' said Adrian, offended. `You don't have to take my advice.'

`Thank Christ for that.' Greg relaxed and grinned at him signalling to the barman for refills. `Come on, Ade, you don't need to worry about me. The situation's under control Telling Miranda about Chloe,' he gestured and-the-res with his free arm, `isn't going to make her happy, is it'

I know what Miranda's like, it's the kind of thing she'd just fret about.'

`I suppose.' Adrian shrugged, losing interest. He preferred talking about football.

`I don't need the hassle, that's all.' Greg pushed his fingers through his hair. `You know what women are like. What Miranda doesn't know can't hurt her.' He gave Adrian a cheer-up nudge. `Isn't that right?'

Adrian lit a cigarette.

`Yeah.'

Miranda, singing noisily and spectacularly off-key in the bath the following Sunday, wondered how old you had to be before you stopped getting excited about your birthday. How much longer did she have before the novelty wore off, boredom set in and she began telling people in blasй fashion, `Oh no, nothing planned, it's just like any other day.'

`Twenty-four today, twenty-four today,' Miranda yodelled, twiddling the hot tap with her toes and sending a gush of scalding water over her ultra-cool, RayBan-wearing yellow plastic duck. `Oh, I've got the key of the door, never been twenty-four before.'

`Any more of that caterwauling,' Bev's voice filtered through from the other side of the bathroom door, `and I'll be the one with the key, locking you in there.'

`You're early!' Miranda splashed into a sitting position. `Is Fenn here as well?'

Fenn had volunteered to drive them to the restaurant in Soho, but not yet, surely? It was still only eleven o' clock.

`He's dropping Leila at Heathrow.' Leila, yet another supermodel, was Fenn's latest girlfriend. `I came early because I want you to wear your present from me.'

A present you could wear! Miranda brightened at once.

`Is it a pair of false bosoms?'

`Not telling you.' Bev sounded pleased with herself. `You'll have to come downstairs and find out.'

It might be a bash over the head with something heavy, thought Miranda, when Bev heard what she had to tell her.

Oh, crikey, it was scary but it had to be done. Lying back in the bath, she took deep breaths and began psyching herself up for the ordeal ahead.

But really, there couldn't be a better time, could there?

It's my birthday, Miranda reminded herself, clutching this fact to her like a security blanket. Nobody was allowed to be horrid to you on your birthday, oh no, that would be too mean for words. Bev couldn't - wouldn't - spoil her special day.

Ducking down under the surface of the water, Miranda exhaled a stream of bubbles and began counting. If she reached thirty without coming up for air, Bev would forgive her.

Probably.

And if I don't reach thirty, thought Miranda, I'll have drowned.

Which might actually be safer in the long run.

Florence remained discreetly in the kitchen while Miranda took Bev out into the walled back garden.

`I've left your present inside,' Bev protested, teetering

down the wheelchair-friendly slope