Birth Marks by Sarah Dunant

combination that might drive an intellect mad, if, that is, the instinct weren’t hooked already. Funny how you can see it all from the outside.
    â€˜Sometimes I think sleep is God’s way of saving babies’ lives,’ she said softly, her eyes still on the cot. ‘Ten minutes ago I could have murdered him. Now I just want to crawl in and curl up next to him.’
    And once again I thought about the great divide between those that have children and those that have not. And about Carolyn Hamilton, who had been so nearly there when she had made the decision not to. And more than ever it didn’t make sense.
    In his cot Benjamin snored slightly in his sleep. Horizontal again the cold was beginning to flow back into his sinuses, clogging his nose and making him snort out each breath, until for all the world, he sounded like the baby in Alice just before it turns into a pig. Kate smiled indulgently and we tiptoed out.
    On the landing she smoothed down her dress and absent mindedly rubbed a grubby nose stain off her right shoulder. The noise of the party filtered up towards us. ‘I should go down and supervise the buffet,’ she said, but it was clear she didn’t want to. ‘I don’t know. Sometimes I think I spend too much time with children. I can’t seem to remember how to talk to adults any more.’
    â€˜Maybe they’re just the wrong adults.’
    She gave a small grin. ‘I knew you’d hate them.’
    I shrugged. ‘We just don’t have a lot in common.’
    â€˜Like making money?’
    â€˜Is that Kate Wolfe or Mrs Colin Chambers talking?’
    She wrinkled up her nose, very Kate. As a child I used to call it her bad smell look. ‘You always did lose your sense of humour when you were being teased. You know sometimes I wish you’d give him more of a chance. He’s not quite the money obsessed nerd you make him out to be.’
    I smiled. ‘Yeah. Well, you know me. I’m like Dad in such matters. Don’t like to admit that anyone could have been good enough for you.’
    â€˜You mean you always had a soft spot for David.’ David, the only other man she’d brought home for family supper, a university lecturer with a sharp taste in clothes and a sassy sense of humour. A distinctly overblown ego certainly, but, it had to be said, considerably more charisma than Colin. She shook her head. ‘It would have been a disaster, take my word for it. You know what they tell you about good lovers making bad husbands and even worse fathers.’ Yeah, and Confucius he say all wisdom explodes out of a Christmas cracker. She must have seen my face. ‘I know it sounds appalling, but there’s some truth to it. Believe me I’ve met women who are still married to lovers, and it’s nothing but heartache. At least I know where I am with Colin. And he really loves the kids.’
    Gorgeous Kate, always the woman men lusted after. Maybe she needed relief from the power of sexuality, hers or anyone else’s. Maybe that’s why she picked Colin. Good husbands and loving fathers. She was right. It sounded almost as exciting as being buried alive. But then where sex is concerned I’m still a teenager at heart. Give me glamour over security any day. Kate would say it all stems from my irrational fear of domesticity, that it would somehow automatically turn me into my mother. I wondered if Carolyn Hamilton had had the same problem. Of course with two different mothers she had had a choice of nightmares. As it was she had clearly gone for the lover who, in the end, couldn’t hack it to the husband/father status. Poor Carolyn. Kate was waving a hand in front of my face. ‘Excuse me. Anyone there?’
    â€˜What? Sorry, I was thinking of something else.’
    â€˜It’s all right. Don’t panic, I’ve moved away from hearth and home. I was asking about work. I wondered how you were doing with your