'Why don't you take your coat off?' he said.

'Why don't you?'

'Yes. I will.' He stood up and undid the buttons. Jenny glanced down at the white and brown mock-fur coat she wore. 'It's all I had. I had to wear something, it was so cold coming. There was nothing else. And I was so worried about people seeing me in this. It's a bit gay, isn't it? That's all I thought as I walked up the path. But I don't have anything darker. Jesus! I never thought I'd give a damn about the neighbours.' 'You never used to. Some of the things you'd lie around the garden in when it was hot.' 'Oh yes. Do you remember old Mr Hawkins? He'd go in to get behind the curtain. But Mr Hall would come rushing out with his lawn-mower. All to look at my bumps.'

She laughed, then stopped in mid-note.

'We're talking about them as if they're all dead.' He laid his coat on the table and put his arm round her shoulders.

'No, my dear. Not them. Just those days.'

She stood up away from his arm and took off her coat. He looked at her, long-legged, short-skirted, wellrounded. 'They were wise to look,' he said with a smile. She trailed her coat along the floor as she walked to the window and ran her finger along the sill.

'Tell me about it, Daddy.'

'Are you sure?'

'Yes. Please.'

There's not much to tell.'

'Not much. My mother's dead! And that's not much?'

'No, I mean…'

She sat down on the sill.

Tm sorry. I know what you mean.' 'I came home. I was late. I'd let myself be talked into playing and I got a bit of a knock. Your mother had had her tea and was sitting watching the television. I just stuck my head into the room and said hello. She didn't say anything. I could feel the atmosphere. You know how she hated anything to spoil her timetable, no matter how unimportant. So I went into the kitchen to get myself some tea.'