An Almost Perfect Moon. Jamie Holland

       CHAPTER ONE Sunday and raining

      Outside, the rain continued, putting paid to the planned walk on Wandsworth Common. Lucie had delivered the kind of high-class lunch her husband and close friends had come to expect. All the same, at seven-and-a-half months pregnant, she had warned all of them this was going to be the last she would be cooking at her and Ben’s house for quite some time. In the short-term future, if anyone was expecting to be fed on a Sunday, Ben would have to be the cook. Her husband had shrugged and the others had agreed that in that case, they should definitely make the most of the spread before them.

      Now, having eaten and drunk too much, the small party slumped in front of the television, the fire gently flickering in its even, gas-infused way. They were watching Rebecca.

      ‘Oh my God, it’s burning,’ Tiffany exclaimed as Maxim de Winter hurtled down the drive towards Manderley. Flin was half reading the paper, and Harry seemed mildly distracted, but the other three were content to watch the final events of the film unfolding on the screen.

      Ben was the first to pass judgement, as the final image – a single ‘R’ surrounded by flames – melted from the screen.

      ‘I’m sorry, darling, but that was bollocks.’ He stretched his arms above him and yawned.

      ‘It’s a great film,’ sighed Lucie. ‘Don’t be such a bloody heathen. Didn’t have enough guns for you, I suppose.’ She slapped him lightly on his shoulder and dug one of her legs into him. Since cooking the lunch, she’d refused to lift another finger; it was her prerogative to sit down and gently soothe her swollen, semi-spherical belly.

      ‘Well, I thought it was great. Really romantic,’ put in Tiffany.

      ‘Although I have to admit,’ added Lucie, ‘their’s was a totally unconvincing relationship. Never would have worked. There’s too much stacked against them. He’s dominating and dismissive and she’s wet. Not to mention the manslaughter bit. Because that’s what it was, even if she was dying and he was driven to it. It’s so sordid.’

      Ben leant over and kissed her very delicately on the cheek. ‘Then we’re obviously doomed, darling: you’re dominating and I’m meek.’

      ‘Oh,