Then the drinks arrive and we sit down again. But all the while we keep glancing over to where Suze and Tarkie are still talking. On the plus side, Tarkie’s holding her hand, and she’s speaking very fast and volubly at him, and tears are running down her face and he keeps wiping them away with his handkerchief. Which I reckon is a positive sign?

The thing about Suze and Tarkie is, I think they both do want to be married to each other. And that’s quite a good start, for a marriage.

Then suddenly they’ve stood up and they’re walking toward us, and we all get in a bit of a fluster trying to look like we’ve been having a normal conversation, not beadily watching their every move and speculating about what it means.

“So, these red-rock canyons,” begins Mum loudly, just as Janice chimes in, “Super lemonade, don’t you think?”

“Hi, everyone,” says Suze tremulously as she gets near, and we adopt expressions of “surprise.”

“Oh, Suzie, there you are!” exclaims Mum, as though she’s been wondering where Suze could have got to. “And Tarquin too. Don’t you look well, Tarquin!”

This is actually a very perceptive comment. Tarquin looks totally together. His hair has grown back a little from the dreadful style he got in L.A., he’s wearing a sleek navy linen suit, and his jaw seems firmer than it ever did.

“Great to see you, Jane,” he says, bending to kiss her. “And Janice. I gather you’ve had quite a journey.”

Is his voice deeper too? And he hasn’t stammered once. I mean, he’s only uttered a few words, but still. Where’s the shy, stuttering, bony-headed aristocrat who used to jump if you said “Boo”?

I glance again at Suze, and she’s hanging back, as though she doesn’t want to be noticed.

“Suze.” I pat the empty chair next to me. “Come on. Have some lemonade.” Then, “Are you OK?” I murmur as she takes her seat.

“I think so.” Suze seems emotionally shattered but raises a smile. “We need to talk a lot. Tarkie’s so generous….” She squeezes her eyes shut a moment. “He’s trying not to be hurt, because he wants to mend everything. He wants to focus on your dad and that whole affair. But he should be hurt. He should be furious with me. Shouldn’t he?”

I survey Tarkie, who’s shaking Dad’s hand vigorously, his face shining.

“Excellent to see you again, Graham,” he says, and I can hear the pleasure in his voice.

“He’ll work it out in his own time,” I say. “Let him do it his way, Suze. You’re together again, that’s the main thing.” I glance at her in sudden terror. “I mean, aren’t you?”

“Yes!” Suze gives a half laugh, half sob. “Oh God. Yes. We are. Yes.”

“Did you tell him about Owl’s Tower?”

“I will,” says Suze, and bites her lip, looking ashamed. “When we get home, I’ll tell him everything. Everything. But not now. He’s…he almost doesn’t want to know. He’s like a tennis player in the zone.”

“You’re right.” I watch him curiously. “He’s transformed!”

“Now, Graham,” Tarkie is saying as he takes a seat, “did you get my texts?”

“Absolutely,” Dad says. “Absolutely. But I’m a little confused. You say you’ve made ‘contact’ with Corey. Do you mean you’ve written to him? Sent him an email?”

“Not at all,” says Tarquin. “I’ve had a meeting with him.”

“A meeting?” Dad’s jaw drops. “A face-to-face meeting?”

“Over lunch.”

There’s a flabbergasted silence. Tarkie has had lunch with Corey?

“Tarkie, you’re…amazing!” stutters Suze.

“Not at all,” says Tarkie modestly. “The title helped, of course.”

“But what was your meeting about?” says Dad incredulously.

“About my new venture-capital company, seeking partnership with his.” Tarkie pauses. “My fictitious venture-capital company.”

Dad throws back his head and guffaws. “Tarquin, you’re a wonder.”

“Tarkie, you’re brilliant,” I say sincerely.

“Oh, please,” says Tarkie, looking embarrassed. “Absolutely not. But the good news is that I have access to Corey. The question is how we can best use this access. It’s a place to start, anyway.”

I blink at Tarkie, feeling impressed. He looks so grown-up and determined, in a way he never really has before.

“Well.” Dad seems a bit shell-shocked. “Tarquin, this is far, far better progress than I ever could have hoped.”

My mind is digesting this new fact. This changes everything. This could mean…I grab for my notebook, start crossing out ideas and adding others.

“We were planning a meeting to discuss the matter,” says Dad. “Later on perhaps, when everyone’s feeling”—he glances kindly at Suze—“a little more composed.”

“Great,” says Tarkie. “I’ll tell you everything I know. And now, how about a titchy to celebrate?”

—

We sit there for a while longer, quietly drinking and chatting and looking at the red rocks. And maybe there is something mystical in the Sedona air which empowers the soul, because I feel like finally, finally, we’re all calming down.

As we wander back to the hotel, Suze and Tarkie keep touching hands as though for reassurance, and every time they do, I feel a swell of gladness. Because I do not want to be a friend-of-divorce. It scars you for life.

“Your father’s wonderful,” says Tarkie, as we wait to cross the street.

“I know,” I say proudly.

“He’s Tarkie’s hero,” says Suze, and she squeezes his hand fondly.

“What did you talk about, all that time on the road?” I ask with genuine curiosity. I mean, I know Tarkie and my dad like each other, but I wouldn’t have thought they had that much in common. Apart from maybe golf.

“He gave me a talking to, as it happens,” says Tarquin. “Quite a stiff one.”

“Oh,” I say in surprise. “Yikes. Sorry.”

“No, I needed it.” Tarkie frowns. “He said we all have roles in life and that I was running away from mine. It’s true. Being who I am—well, it’s a big job. I didn’t choose it…but I can’t dodge it. I have to take it on.” He pauses. “And I will. I’m going to carry on with my plans for Letherby Hall, no matter what my parents think.”

“They’re brilliant plans,” says Suze loyally. “It’s going to be another Chatsworth.”

“Well, not quite,” says Tarkie. “But the plans do make sense. They will work.” He sounds like he’s fighting with someone in his head. “They will.”

I shoot him a sidelong glance. I don’t know what Dad’s done to him, but he’s grown. He sounds older. More assured. Like a guy who could take charge of a great big empire and not let it weigh him down.

When we’ve crossed the road, Suze walks alongside me, and we splinter off into a little twosome, just for a bit. (Two and a half–some, actually. I’m holding Minnie’s hand.)

“So, Bex…” she says softly. “Guess what?”

“What?”

“I’m…” She waves her hands in a vague, Suze-ish way.

“What?” I gawp at her. “Not…”

“Yes.” Her cheeks pinken.

“Not…You’re not…”

“Yes!”

OK, I have to make sure we’re on the same page here. Because I might mean one thing and she might mean, intending to start a Cordon Bleu course when I get back to England.

“Pregnant?” I whisper, and she nods frantically. “How long have you known?”

“Since the day after Tarkie left. I did the test that day. I totally freaked out.” Her face tightens with remembered stress. “Oh God, it’s been awful, Bex. So awful. I thought…I didn’t know what to do…I was so afraid that…” She trails off. “It’s been a nightmare,” she whispers.

OK, this explains a lot. A lot. For a start, is this why she’s been so irritable? She always gets irritable in early pregnancy. And no wonder she was so freaked out about Bryce. She thought her marriage was going to fall apart, and Tarkie didn’t even know he was going to be a father again….I wince at the thought. And she’s been dealing with it all on her own, saying nothing to anybody.

Or…has she?

“Does Alicia know?” I ask, more abruptly than I mean to.

“No!” Suze sounds shocked. “Of course not. I would never have told her before you.” She puts an arm around me and squeezes. “I wouldn’t, Bex.”

I turn to face her and, of course, now I see all the telltale signs that only a best friend can pick up. Her skin is flaring up around her nose. That always happens when she’s pregnant. And…

Well, actually, that’s the only telltale sign. That, and—

“Hey!” I take a step back. “You’ve been drinking! All that tequila, the bourbon iced tea…”

“Faked it,” says Suze succinctly. “Chucked it away when no one was looking. I knew if I was obvious about it, you’d guess.”

“Fair enough.” I nod. “Oh my God, Suze, four children.” I stare at her wonderingly. “Four.”

“I know.” She gulps.

“Or five, if you have twins. Or six if you have triplets—”

“Shut up!” says Suze, looking freaked out. “I won’t! Bex…” Her expression becomes agonized. “I wish…I wish you…I just wish—”

“I know,” I cut her off gently. “I know you do.”

“It doesn’t seem fair.” She swallows. “We didn’t even plan this. Total surprise.”

She gestures at her stomach, and deep inside I feel a little wrench of jealousy. I’d love a total surprise. To my horror, tears prick at my eyes, and I quickly turn away.

Anyway. It’s fine. We have Minnie and she’s perfect. She’s more than perfect. We don’t need anything else. I bend down to kiss the smooth two-year-old cheek that I love so much it hurts inside. And as I straighten up, I see Suze watching me with a shimmer in her own eyes.

“Stop it,” I say, swallowing hard. “Stop it. Look. OK. You can’t have everything. Can you?”

“No,” says Suze after a pause. “No, I suppose not.”