he four days with Vicky Townsley are far better than Richard expects. Not that he sees her much, apart from the evenings, of course, but there is something very cute about her, and he can see how much the children take to her, and suddenly it doesn’t seem quite so frightening. In fact, if anything, he is beginning to look at it in much the same way as Amber – as an adventure.

Amber is more excited than he’s seen her in years. Amber is more excited than she’s been in years. Within the first five minutes of seeing how Richard and Vicky get on, Amber knows that everything is going to be all right, that Richard is going to come around, and that Vicky is going to be absolutely fine stepping into her shoes. Now all she has to worry about is stepping into Vicky’s.

Because Amber has been dreading Richard coming home, particularly after the cold front that has existed in their house. As charming as Richard is, he has the ability to be completely charmless when he wishes, and she has been terrified Richard will put Vicky off, that Vicky will decide not to choose her, based on the rudeness or truculence of her husband.

A less secure woman might be concerned at Richard’s transformation. He left the house in such a bad mood, comes home scowling, and then seems to become charm itself as Vicky talks to him.

And Vicky is attractive. Cute in a very English way. Peaches-and-cream complexion, good figure although it could be a lot better with some time in a gym, and surprisingly good teeth – although it shouldn’t be a surprise, except that Amber, like so many Americans, presumes that in England all the food is terrible and everyone has dreadful teeth.

‘How do you do?’ Vicky puts the knife down on the chopping board where Amber has put her in charge of the salad – Amber having decided to cook, trying to show Vicky that she is the perfect wife and mother, that she does not, in fact, delegate everything to Lavinia, but that she runs her charity work, looks after the children, rushes the dog to the vet in an emergency, and still has time to look great.

In other words, Amber is trying to prove she is Superwoman. Although Vicky isn’t to know that that is not the case.

Vicky shakes Richard’s hand warmly, with a genuine smile, slightly taken aback by how attractive he is. Perhaps it is true, she thinks, smiling into Richard’s baby-blue eyes, noting how tall he is, how broad his shoulders. Perhaps everything really is bigger and better in America, because they certainly don’t make many men like this at home. It’s not that Richard is spectacularly good-looking, he just has that glow of All-American health that Vicky finds so appealing, and although Richard is not conscious of the effect he is having on Vicky, he finds his own eyes twinkling back at hers, and his smile in response far warmer than he expected, and maybe this won’t be so bad after all.

Not that he’d ever be unfaithful to Amber. Not that he thinks he would be sleeping with this other woman, but she’s so cute! With her little English accent and flushed cheeks.

How could he have possibly thought this woman had come to destroy his marriage? In her little flippy Boden skirt and layered vests, appliquéed flats on her feet, how would someone as adorable as this ever be a problem and, more to the point, how is she not married?

‘You’re The Journalist?’ Richard asks, as Amber beams, seeing that he likes Vicky, that he’s intrigued. ‘The single woman from London?’

‘That would be me,’ Vicky grins. ‘The spinster with just my cat for company, who’s desperate to get married.’

‘Who? You or the cat?’ Richard grins back.

‘Both!’ Vicky laughs.

‘But how are you not married?’ Richard is genuinely bemused. ‘You’re so cute!’

And Vicky, unused to compliments such as this, such open compliments from such an attractive man, flushes all the way up to her hairline as Amber laughs. ‘Oh Richard! You’ve embarrassed her.’ But Amber is delighted at Richard’s openness, delighted that he thinks she’s cute – perhaps now he’ll be happy about the prospect of the swap.

Just in case you were wondering, Amber is not concerned about Richard’s fidelity. Amber is not one of those women who has experienced hardships with men. Hardships in practically every other area of her life, but her natural coolness when she was younger always intrigued men, and she tended to be the dumper rather than the dumpee.

She had never understood girlfriends who put up with their men mistreating them, who allowed their men back after they had admitted to affairs. Amber was black and white about infidelity. Her life had been too hard as a child for her to put up with lies or problems as an adult. If Richard were to be unfaithful, their marriage would be over. That’s it. No second chances, no room for discussion. Amber would simply move on and start again.

But still, she never expected it to happen. One of the reasons she had fallen in love with Richard, one of the qualities that still makes him stand out in her eyes, is his integrity, his knowledge of right from wrong, his strong moral core, and Amber knows that Richard is not a man who would have a flippant affair. Not just because he knows Amber would leave him in a heartbeat, but because he genuinely wouldn’t be able to do it.

Richard is a family man through and through. He loves Amber, he loves his kids, he wouldn’t jeopardize it for a quick fling. And perhaps this is why Amber doesn’t mind the twinkle in his eye when he looks at Vicky. For she is cute. It’s lovely that he thinks that, and that it would never occur to him to take it further.

‘Does Vicky get to sleep on your side of the bed while you’re in London?’ Richard grins, looking at Amber, and Amber rolls her eyes.

‘Only in your dreams, Richard,’ she says, turning to see the flush back on Vicky’s face.

‘Oh God,’ Vicky groans. ‘I’m completely embarrassing myself here. I’m supposed to be a professional journalist and the pair of you are making me blush like a teenager. I’m going to need to go outside and get some air in a minute.’

‘How about a drink instead?’ Amber says. ‘Richard, darling, will you pour us some wine?’

‘Yes, darling,’ Richard says, leaning over and giving Amber a kiss, and Amber knows that everything is going to be all right.

The evening is a delight. Vicky keeps them both laughing with stories about being single in London, and asks lots of questions about their life in Highfield. Richard goes very quiet when Amber explains why she doesn’t feel entirely happy here, but ultimately he says he understands, that he feels the same pressures Amber does, but because he’s removed from it for most of the day he doesn’t feel it with quite the same intensity.

‘But why don’t you move if it’s that competitive?’ Vicky takes a sip of her third glass of wine.

Amber shrugs. ‘I’m not sure that it would be that different anywhere else, or at least, anywhere that’s within commutable distance to Wall Street. Also the schools in Highfield are amazing, so we save vast amounts of money by not having to send our kids to private school; and in many ways this town is wonderful.’

‘The quality of life here is great,’ Richard agrees. ‘So you have this running battle with yourself, weighing up the pros and cons, asking yourself whether it’s worth it and the pros always seem to outweigh the cons.’

Amber turns to Richard. ‘I didn’t know you felt it as strongly as I do?’ The surprise is obvious in her face.

‘I do, I just don’t talk about it because I can’t see it changing, but also, and don’t get mad at me for saying this, but you come up against it every day because of the women you choose to mix with.’

Amber visibly bristles. ‘Are you saying I choose to mix with Suzy… and Nadine?’

Richard sighs. ‘I knew you’d get mad. And no, I’m not saying you choose to mix with them, but you do choose to do all the work you do for the League, and whilst I know it’s all for a good cause, you know just as well as I do that it’s just a thin disguise for social climbing, and that you get sucked in to all that crap with everyone else.’

Amber is silent for a while, and then she shrugs and looks at Vicky. ‘That’s why I want to do this. Because Richard’s right. Being head of the committee that runs the Summer Gala for the League, or the summer house tour, isn’t about raising the most money for charity, it’s about being queen bee, about having all the other women in town know that you’re at the top of the ladder, and it’s cliquey, and bitchy, and –’ Amber takes a deep breath – ‘and I just need to get away for a while. To re-evaluate.’

Vicky swallows hard. ‘Wow. And it seems as if your life is so perfect.’

‘And you know what? It is pretty perfect.’ Amber gestures around her. ‘I have a wonderful husband and a wonderful marriage, I live in a big, beautiful house. On the outside I look as if I have everything I could possibly want, but there’s just so much stuff. Sometimes I look at everything I have, the clothes in my closet, the staff we need to maintain this house, and I just want out. I want a simpler life. I want to live in a small house with a couple of pairs of jeans and some sneakers. I just don’t want all this stuff any more.’ Her voice is rising with passion and Richard looks at her in shock.

‘Honey,’ he says, ‘I never knew you felt this way.’

‘But that’s what I’ve been trying to tell you,’ she says. ‘That’s why I had to respond to Vicky’s article. Because I don’t know if that feeling is real or not. Oh God,’ she says. ‘I sound like a madwoman. I feel like I’m on this pendulum, swinging back and forth. Some mornings I wake up and I love everything about my life. I go out for lunch and dress up in my designer clothes and have a meeting with Amberley Jacks, and it’s fun and I love it, even though it feels like I’m playing a big game.

‘And other days,’ she continues, ‘I get up and go out and feel overwhelmed by everything. I don’t want to have to compete with other women to see who paid the most for their outfit, or who ran up a bigger account at Rakers last year. I don’t care about having the latest Balenciaga bag…’

Vicky opens her eyes wide in surprise. ‘I thought this was the country!’ she says. ‘The women here have Balenciaga bags?’

Ambers laughs. ‘I thought it was the country too, but it’s not. It’s the suburbs, and that’s a whole other ballgame, especially in Highfield. Oh yes they have Balenciaga bags, or Birkins if they’re really lucky, but not during the day unless you’re meeting the girls for lunch.’

‘So what do they wear during the day?’

‘Generally workout gear – you’re supposed to look as if you’re just running some errands whilst on your way to the gym, but you have to have enormous diamond studs –’ Amber gestures to her own diamond studs with a roll of her eyes and Vicky laughs – ‘the latest Pumas, some cute yoga/pilates pants and a great bag. Honey,’ she places a hand on Vicky’s arm and looks into her eyes, ‘it’s all in the accessories.’

‘Far be it from me to throw a spanner in the works,’ Richard says, ‘but isn’t that exactly what you wear pretty much every day? Isn’t this a case of the pot calling the kettle black?’

‘But that’s the point,’ Amber sighs. ‘Some days I can see that carrying the right bag is indeed a matter of life and death, but more and more I’m starting to think that none of this matters. That since when did the size of your earrings or the label on the inside of your bag demonstrate what kind of a person you are? I’m fed up with this consumerism, this perfectionism, with constantly competing with everyone else. Jesus, I wasn’t brought up like this. I don’t even know how I got here.’

‘Wow, that’s quite a speech.’ Richard shakes his head as he looks at his wife.

‘I’m sorry, honey, but it’s true. The only good stuff, the only things I would never ever change are my family, my husband and my kids.’

‘So this really isn’t about me?’ Richard says softly.

‘Oh sweetie.’ Amber gets up from the table and puts her arms around Richard from behind, nuzzling his neck. ‘I adore you. You’re the best thing that ever happened to me. How could this be about you?’

Richard looks up at Vicky. ‘So when are you thinking of doing this?’

Vicky smiles. ‘I’ll get in touch with Hugh, the director, to see what works best for him, and then we’re pretty much all set.’

‘Director?’ Amber and Richard disengage and look at Vicky in confusion. ‘What director?’

‘Ah yes.’ Vicky takes a deep breath. ‘I knew there was something else I meant to tell you.’

It is the only spanner in the works. Richard point-blank refuses to be filmed for television. And in the end, Vicky concedes, knowing that it is the only way she will get them to agree, and as good as the publicity would have been for Poise!, there’s no TV show without the swap, and the magazine comes first.

And she has to admit she is slightly disappointed. Whilst she told Hugh Janus that she didn’t want to be famous, since they had decided to do it she’d talked herself into quite enjoying the fame and potential fortune that would arise. Because don’t stars automatically become friends with other stars? She and Julia Roberts might start hanging out, she could definitely see Julia becoming a friend of hers. Vicky might help her get through those first difficult couple of years with the twins, perhaps Julia and Danny could bring the kids down to Kate and Andy’s for the weekend.

Or maybe Michael Douglas and Catherine Zeta-Jones. She could see them becoming friends. Could imagine the kids hanging out together while she and Jamie Donnelly sip cocktails with Michael and Cat – do her friends call her Cat, she wonders, or Cathy, perhaps, or Cath? – on the terrace of their house in Bermuda.

Oh yes. Being famous wouldn’t be so bad at all, thank you very much, but Vicky files away her daydreams for another time. Clearly she is not going to be the reality star of this TV show after all. Now she just has to phone Hugh Janus and tell him, and after that find a way of breaking the news to Janelle.

By the time Amber and Richard clear up after dinner – Vicky offered to help but the poor girl was almost comatose with jet lag so they sent her to bed – the cold front between them has evaporated completely, and Richard looks at Amber and raises an eyebrow, the look that signals he’s feeling frisky, he’s up for it tonight.

Normally Amber would groan, would hurriedly think of an excuse, would claim to have her period, or gas, or something, but she’s missed Richard these last few days, has missed chatting to him on the phone all day long – for Richard is one of those men who phone their wife several times during the day to touch base, has hated how cold he has been since she told him Vicky was coming, and this is the least she can do.

And so they go up to bed, Amber puts on her pyjamas, climbs into bed and into Richard’s arms. Fifteen minutes later she pecks him on the lips, says, ‘I love you,’ turns the bedside light back on and picks up her magazine as Richard goes to the bathroom to clean up.

‘I like her,’ Richard says, climbing back into bed and taking Amber’s hand, grateful to have his wife back, to have the status quo returned to their marriage.

‘I can tell.’ Amber gives him a look and he laughs. ‘But she is cute. And smart, and the kids like her. I think you’ll probably have an amazing time with her. God, you might not want me to come home.’

‘Don’t say that,’ Richard admonishes. ‘But I agree that she’s far better than I expected. And I love the way she speaks.’

‘Just don’t love it too much.’ Amber smiles. ‘So you’re really okay with this? With me going ahead and flying to London for four weeks?’

Richard shrugs. ‘I have to be, don’t I? If I asked you not to go, would you not go?’

Amber pauses and looks Richard in the eye.

‘Exactly,’ Richard says, not needing an answer. ‘I know your mind’s made up so I have to accept it. I guess I’m just relieved that I’m not being left with some awful woman while you’re gone. At least I know it will be kind of fun.’

‘Just as long as you were joking when you made that comment about her sleeping on my side of the bed…’

‘Just as long as you don’t think you’re going to be picking up strange men in bars and bringing them home to your super-hip bachelorette pad in London…’ Richard smiles.

Amber snorts. ‘God, as if anyone would want me. I’m thirty-five and the mother of two children. Nobody even looks at me any more. All of a sudden I go into stores and I’m not Miss any more, I’m Ma’am. How did that happen? Tell me the truth, does Vicky look much younger than me? Because I bet she still gets called Miss. How is it that I look middle-aged and she doesn’t? Is it just having kids? The physical wear and tear on my body?’

‘First of all,’ Richard strokes her thigh appreciatively, ‘as cute as Vicky is you have a much better body, and that’s despite having two children.’

‘I do?’ Amber perks up.

‘You do. But secondly she doesn’t have any responsibilities. I hate to say it, but she doesn’t look like a mom.’

‘And I do?’

‘You look like a woman who’s had some experience in life, but I love that about you. I think you’re far more beautiful now than when we met.’

Amber’s eyes light up. ‘You really do?’

‘I do. I think you have a maturity now that I love.’

‘But what about these,’ Amber smoothes out the frown lines on her forehead, ‘and these?’ She traces the lines from her nose to her mouth. ‘Vicky doesn’t seem to have all these lines.’

‘She’s probably Botoxed them out,’ Richard says.

‘Do you think?’

Richard shrugs. ‘She does work on a women’s magazine. She probably gets offered shots of Botoxwith her sandwich at lunchtime.’

‘God, I never thought of that. I think I should do it. I should go and get some. These lines make me feel so old.’

‘I love your lines,’ Richard says. ‘They’re the marks of your life. I love that you have a few stretchmarks on your stomach, they tell me the story of our children. And I love your frown lines,’ he leans forward and kisses them. ‘I love that whenever you’re concentrating on something you frown. I don’t want you to Botox anything. I love you exactly as you are.’

Amber smiles at him and kisses him lovingly. ‘Do you know how lucky I am to have a man like you?’

‘Yes,’ he says as he kisses her back. ‘Do you know how lucky you are to have a man like me?’

‘Yes,’ she says happily. ‘But seriously, just a little bit of Botox?’ She frowns as she pulls the skin between her eyebrows taut. ‘Just here?’

‘Oh go to sleep,’ Richard laughs, and turns off the lamp on his side of the bed.

*

The rest of the trip is smooth. Vicky accompanies Amber to school to drop off Gracie, to a baseball match for Jared, to lunch with Deborah, with whom Vicky instantly feels a kinship, another English girl abroad.

‘It’s going to be a great piece,’ she tells Janelle, when she calls her for the second time, having already broken the bad news about the TV show. ‘I’m just sorry they won’t agree to TV because it would have been great.’

‘I’ve got a conference call with Hugh Janus tomorrow,’ Janelle soothes. ‘We’re going to see if there’s anything else we can work on together. So is it very Desperate Housewives, darling?’

‘There’s nothing desperate about this life,’ laughs Vicky. ‘Wait until you see the house. It’s like a bloody palace.’

‘Do you think she’ll cope with your little flat, then?’

‘You know what? I think she’s a hell of a lot stronger than she appears. I think she’s going to be absolutely fine.’