White. Rosie Thomas

months, give or take.’ Finch smiled. The knot under her diaphragm was so tight now that it threatened to impede her breathing. ‘Anything you need in that time, Dr Frame will be here to look after you, of course.’

      ‘Good luck,’ her patient said and Finch thanked her warmly.

      She went to the bathroom and took a quick shower, then changed into a dark-blue dress with a deep V-front. She put on earrings and made up her face. It was time for her farewell dinner with the family. Marcus and Tanya would be there as well as James and Kitty, and to complete the party Caleb and Jessica were flying all the way up from San Diego where Caleb was working on a film about mother whales.

      Finch locked up the surgery and drove herself to the North Vancouver shore, to the house in which Angus and Clare Buchanan had brought up their children. She parked her Honda in the driveway behind Marcus’s Lexus and let herself in through the back door. There was no front door, as such. The long, low, two-storey house had been designed for his family by Angus himself. The bedrooms and bathrooms and Angus’s study were on the lower level, and a dramatic open stairway led to the upper floor. Almost the whole of this space was taken up by one huge room with a wall of glass looking over a rocky inlet and southwards across a great sweep of water and sky towards Victoria. This early evening the room seemed to melt into an expanse of filmy cloud and sea spray.

      Finch’s parents and James and Marcus and their wives were sitting with their drinks in an encampment of modern furniture near the middle of the room. Angus and Clare collected primitive art, and their native American figure carvings and huge painted masks from Papua New Guinea seemed to diminish the living occupants of the room. When Finch was small, the mask faces regularly appeared in her dreams.

      ‘Darling,’ Clare said in delight. ‘How pretty you look. Doesn’t she, Angus?’

      It had always been her way to insist on her daughter’s prettiness. While she was still young enough to be docile, Clare had dressed her in floral blouses and tucked pinafores until Finch had clamoured for dungarees and plaid shirts like her brothers’.

      ‘But you were my only girl, darling, after three huge boys,’ Clare always protested to her recriminatory adolescent daughter. ‘Can you blame me for being mad for you in pink ribbons?’

      There was never any blaming Clare for anything. She had been a devoted and loyal mother, a serious cook and gardener, a recreational painter and an assiduous PR for her husband’s business. She was small-boned and porcelain-skinned, and utterly intractable.

      ‘She does,’ her husband agreed. He kissed Finch on the top of her head. ‘Hello, Bunny.’ He always called her Bunny.

      Bunny Wunnikins, Suzy would have mouthed, jabbing two fingers towards the back of her throat and rolling her eyes in disgust. Jesus, your family is just too much.

      Angus was very tall and, in his early seventies, still handsome. His sons all resembled him. Finch had inherited her mother’s dark colouring, but not her petite build. She moved round, now, to her brothers and their wives and kissed them all, and took the glass of Chardonnay her father poured for her.

      ‘Good luck to you and God bless,’ Angus started to toast her, but Clare cut in.

      ‘Oh darling, wait until Caleb and Jessica get here for the speech, won’t you? I so want everything to be right tonight. It’s the last time we’ll all be together for … for …’ Her eyes went misty.

      Suzy would have groaned – fucking speeches. We all love you so much. Christ! And Finch would have answered: It’s okay for you. You’re from a broken home.

      Aloud, she said, ‘I’m going to be away – doing something I really want – for three months, tops. There’s no need to be sad about it, you know.’

      Tanya pulled down the hem of her skirt to cover more of her legs. Everyone heard Caleb arriving and slamming the downstairs door.

      ‘Here they are.’

      ‘How wonderful it is to have all the family together.’

      ‘Let me get the glasses.’

      ‘So, Finch-bird. All ready for the off?’

      The youngest brother and his wife appeared, straight from the airport. Their six-year-old was with Jessica’s sister and Jessica carried the sleepy two-year-old in her arms. Jessica was the best-looking of the three wives. She had worked as a catwalk model in her twenties and before motherhood she had had a brief film career, now on hold, as she put it.

      ‘Here at last.’

      ‘Sorry we’re late, guys. Stacked, would you believe? Hi, Mommy. You look great.’

      ‘Can I make him up a little drink, Clare? If I read him a story he might just settle. He wouldn’t sleep on the flight, or I’d let him stay up with his gran …’

      ‘Give me a kiss. There.’

      ‘Do you want to put him down here, with his head on this cushion, darling? Or straight into bed downstairs? Hello, sweet. Are you Granny’s boy?’

      They’ve made the effort to come tonight, to give me a send-off, Finch reflected. It’s important for us, the way that birthdays and Christmases are in this family. It isn’t their fault that I would rather have slipped away quietly and held the reunion after I’ve done something worth remarking on instead of just having talked too much about it in advance.

      On the other side of the sofa arrangement Angus had launched into his speech. ‘… and so God bless you, Finch, and keep you safe,’ he determinedly finished.

      Everybody else made a show of raising their glasses and murmuring appropriately.

      ‘Wish I was going.’ Caleb grinned.

      Caleb, the closest to her who now lived the furthest away, had always been her favourite brother. She put her arm round him and pulled gently at his hair. ‘You go to enough exotic places. It’s definitely my turn.’

      Later, loosened up by the wine, they sat down to eat. The limed oak table made another small island in the big space. There was Scandinavian cutlery, and Italian glassware and French china, and outside the lights strung along the shoreline fractured the dark space of wind and water. As a little girl, Finch had always felt the stark contrast between the order and luxury within and the wilderness just inches beyond the glass. It had never felt like a comfortable house, for all its comforts. She was also aware that none of the others felt the same as she did. They all loved the family home. Marcus had even built himself one not dissimilar, a little further up the coast.

      Over the compote of winter fruits, Marcus wondered what the next family celebration would be. ‘When shall we nine all meet again?’ he said jovially.

      ‘Finch’s engagement party, I hope,’ Clare said.

      Finch put down her spoon. It made a clatter that she hadn’t intended. ‘Oh, please.’

      ‘I can wish to see my one girl safely married to a man who will make her happy, can’t I?’

      From a glance at their faces, Finch realised that Kitty had told Clare about her turning down Ralf. And Clare was smiling to mask her disappointment, but couldn’t resist an oblique mention of it. The conversation at the opposite end of the table faded away and everyone listened uneasily.

      ‘It isn’t what I want,’ Finch snapped.

      In the silence that followed she could have kicked herself for her touchiness, tonight of all nights. She should just have smiled and let it pass.

      Suzy would have advised: Say nothing, you dope. It’s way easier. Don’t you ever learn?

      Caleb put his hand over his sister’s. ‘Hey. Lighten up.’

      Finch collected herself. ‘I’m sorry. Really, I’m sorry. I know what you want for me and why you want it. I’m so pleased that we’re all together tonight. And seeing you all … maybe it makes me feel I should be settling down.’