y Friday afternoon Amber is exhausted. Once I am back home I will never complain again, she muses, thinking of all the times she tells Deborah she is exhausted, when all she has done is run around town doing errands.

This week, though, she has actually done some work. After the success of her boxon ten things that give us breathing space, Leona has given her more and more to do, without having to resort to sending her on a press trip just to get her out of the way.

From How to Tell if Your Husband is Having an Affair (Amber found that one frighteningly easy, and thanks her lucky stars she’s never had to deal with Richard suddenly joining a gym, or splashing himself with aftershave in the mornings…), to Best New Self-Tanners for Summer, Amber is having the time of her life.

Mostly, she realizes, she feels young again. Sitting in a busy, buzzing office, surrounded by younger girls all dressed in the latest fashions, all of whom see her as one of them, rather than just ‘a mum’, has given Amber a shot of adrenaline and excitement that she hasn’t felt since her days in the workplace, a feeling she had forgotten about entirely.

This is what I’ve been missing, she thinks, sometime around Thursday when the girls ask her to join them for lunch at Truc Vert, where they sit around a scrubbed wooden table and banter and laugh over delicious salads and glasses of white wine.

‘So come on, Amber,’ Ruth says over lunch, ‘tell us what your life is like in America. Is it very different? What will Vicky be doing now?’

‘Now?’ Amber looks at her watch. ‘Now it’s half past eight in the morning so she’ll be showering while our nanny gets the kids dressed to take them to camp, although sometimes I take them, so Vicky may be getting them ready or packing their lunches.’

Little does she know that Vicky, in her determination to be the greatest mother of all time, has now given Lavinia a later start in the mornings, wanting to do it all herself, to see what it’s really like to be a full-time mother, and one without the advantages of middle-class wealth, i.e. a full-time nanny.

At eight thirty this morning Vicky is trying to persuade Gracie to drink from her sippy cup even though she is insisting on drinking from ‘a big girl cup’, and just as Vicky suspects, Gracie goes on to pour milk all over her dress. She erupts in a storm of wails as Vicky carries her upstairs to change her, while Jared refuses to sit at the table and eat his muffin.

Once Gracie is changed she runs into the playroom and covers herself, and most of the playroom, with green paint, and when Vicky has packed their lunches and calls them for camp, already fifteen minutes late, Grace and Jared are fighting over the green paint, and both of them are now covered.

‘Oh God,’ she groans, fighting back the tears of frustration, for Jared had three bad dreams last night and insisted on coming in to get her, and all she wants to do right now is crawl back under the covers and go to sleep. ‘God, please give me the strength to deal with this.’

She drives Jared and Gracie to camp, and once she is all alone in the car she breathes a sigh of relief.

This motherhood thing is definitely not all it’s cracked up to be.

‘Will your kids be behaving for her, do you think?’ Leona grins.

‘Oh yes,’ Amber says, unaware that her playroom has been redecorated in green, allegedly washable, paint. ‘My kids are very well behaved.’

She goes on to tell them about her life. About the charities. The work she’s done. The socializing.

‘But what else do you do?’ Ruth asks, confused.

‘Isn’t that enough?’

‘I don’t know,’ Leona says. ‘Aren’t you doing this because you were feeling unfulfilled?’

Amber nods slowly. ‘It’s true. I feel as though I fill my days running around doing things, but none of it seems to matter. Even though I’m supposed to be helping these charities, even I can see that that isn’t the reason why we all get involved. No one cares about raising the money to build a new recovery centre, or apartment building for the homeless. What they care about is who’s got the most expensive outfit at the gala, and who has the biggest house. And what I hate most of all is that I buy into that. Even though I see it for what it is, and hate it, I do it all the same. I got this decorating firm, Amberley Jacks, to do our living room –’

‘I know Amberley Jacks!’ Leona interrupts. ‘I just read a piece about them in W. They’re the firm to use right now.’

‘And that’s the point. I used them because the other girls would be jealous, and you know what?’

‘What?’ The girls all lean in.

‘The room looks like crap.’

‘Noooo!’ They lean out again.

‘Yes. It’s lilac, for God’s sake. Lilac and plum. Every time I walk into it I want to throw up.’

‘But at least you recognize it for what it is,’ Leona says seriously. ‘Doesn’t that make you automatically different? Better?’

‘Different, perhaps. Better? No. I would only be better if I stopped doing it. It’s like that old saying: three frogs were sitting on a log and two decided to jump off, so how many were left on the log?’

‘One?’ Ruth suggests.

‘Nope. Three. That’s the point. They only decided to jump off, they didn’t actually do anything about it. It’s not what you think about that matters in life, it’s what you actually do about it.’

Leona smiles as she orders more coffee. ‘Well you’re doing something about it, aren’t you? You’re here, living the life of a single girl.’

‘I know. I do feel that this is the first step to get me out of this rut.’

‘Do you actually like where you live?’

‘No. Not really.’

‘So why can’t you move?’ asks Stella.

‘It’s complicated. My husband needs to commute to his job on Wall Street, and there aren’t that many places that are within commuting distance. And I guess I’ve always been scared of change. I’ve worked so hard for everything I’ve got, and even though part of me hates it, part of me loves that I can live in a house like I do, buy the clothes I do, because I grew up with nothing. Not that I think any of it is real, or even matters particularly, but I came from nothing, and I still look around at all that we have and can’t believe quite how far I’ve come.’

‘Even though it’s not yours, it’s your husband’s job that provides it?’

‘Ouch,’ Amber laughs.

‘God, I’m sorry,’ Leona says. ‘That came out sounding far bitchier than I had anticipated.’

‘No, it’s okay. And you’re right. I don’t contribute anything. Maybe that’s what needs to change. Maybe I need to work, find a job, do something for me, something real. And I have to tell you, even though this is only the first week, I am loving every minute of it.’

‘Even writing about the shit farms?’ Ruth laughs, referring to the article they had given her about the latest and greatest health farm which provides five colonics a day.

‘Even writing about the shit farms was fun,’ Amber said. ‘Although I’m not sure I’d feel the same way if I actually had to go there. Maybe I’d feel differently if I was Californian, but as it is you can keep your shit to yourself, thank you very much.’

After work on Friday she zips over to the blue bar at the Berkeley for a drink, and then, instead of joining the others at Hospital – Janelle is a member and had got the others in – she decides to go home for an early night.

Now this is what I’ve missed, she thinks, pulling on pyjamas after a fairly pathetic, but nevertheless hot, shower, and sinking onto the sofa with an oversized bag of nacho chips for dinner.

She yawns her way through Will & Grace, and just as Big Brother is starting she gets up to go to bed, when the doorbell rings.

It’s ten fifteen. Who on earth would be at her door, or more to the point, Vicky’s door, at ten fifteen? And what should she do? Were she in Highfield, Richard would answer it, but then again were she in Highfield no one would ring her doorbell at this time of night. The whole of Highfield is sleeping at this time of night. Were she single and living in Manhattan she would just ignore it, but here? Of course she knows that Vicky would answer it, and so, hesitantly, finally, she picks up the intercom and says hello.

‘Hi, Vix,’ comes a voice. ‘It’s Dan.’

‘Um. It’s not Vicky,’ Amber says, realizing this must be the Daniel that Vicky had mentioned. ‘This is Amber. Vicky’s away in America for a few weeks. Can I give her a message?’

‘Oh shit,’ comes a mumble, at which point Amber realizes that Dan is ever so slightly drunk. ‘Well can I come in anyway?’

‘Oh.’ Amber looks down at herself. She can’t possibly let a strange man in whilst wearing pyjamas so late at night. Never mind what the neighbours would think, what would Richard think? How would she feel if Richard were letting a strange woman in late at night while she was away?

But this isn’t about Richard. This is about Vicky. Walking in her shoes. Living her life. Doing what she would do, and there is no doubt about it. If Vicky were here right now she would let Daniel in. That’s all she has to do. Let him in, perhaps make him a cup of tea, be friendly and then send him on his way. She’s willing to befriend him, no benefits required.

Daniel struggles to focus on this sexy, lithe redhead standing in Vicky’s doorway. She’s slightly taller than Vicky, almost the same height as him, and despite the pyjamas and robe, he can see her body is as taut as an athlete’s. Well, well, well. This is an unexpected surprise.

‘Hel-lo!’ Daniel grins, leaning against the door jamb in a bid to appear somewhat less drunk – and wobbly – than he is.

‘Hello.’ Amber smiles politely but stiffly, extending her hand which Daniel shakes warmly, and for what feels like several minutes, staring into Amber’s eyes, clutching her hand firmly while she tries to extricate it. ‘Do you want a cup of tea?’ Amber asks eventually, whisking her hand away with all her might, praying that he’ll say no but knowing that, being British, he’ll say yes.

Amber is discovering that a cup of tea is the British panacea for just about anything. She has caught the odd soap opera with delight, noting that however distressed the characters are, whether they have just discovered their husbands are dying, their daughters are drug addicts, they only have twenty-four hours to live, someone somewhere will say, ‘Go on, have a nice cuppa tea. That’ll make you feel better.’

‘Love a cup of tea,’ Daniel says, following a reluctant Amber into the kitchen, admiring the delicate bones of her ankles as she walks.

‘I’ve got to be honest, I’d completely forgotten about you,’ he grins while Amber fills the kettle. ‘Not to mention the fact that Vicky didn’t tell me you were, well, you know…’

‘No, I don’t know. What?’ He may be drunk, and she may be unavailable but here is a man, and an attractive one at that, who appears to be somewhat taken with her. Amber doesn’t remember the last time someone actively flirted with her, and so what if he’s a little sozzled. She’s still going to enjoy it and take her compliments where she can.

‘Well you’re rather saucy, aren’t you?’ Daniel says, and Amber can’t help herself. She cracks up with laughter.

‘Saucy?’ she finally manages to splutter. ‘Saucy? What on earth does saucy mean?’

‘You know,’ Daniel says. ‘Sexy. Nice. Attractive.’

‘Well thank you for the compliment, but just so you know, I’m also married.’

Daniel’s ears prick up. For a commitaphobe such as he is, what could be more perfect, what could be more attractive, than a glamorous redhead who’s not only married but whose husband is on the other side of the Atlantic? Who would ever know? Who would ever tell? Did ever a situation present itself that was as perfect as this?

‘Even better,’ Daniel says lasciviously. ‘Married women are just my cup of tea.’

‘Speaking of which,’ Amber tries to hide her flush, not because she’s attracted to Daniel, but because she’s so unused to being in a situation like this, ‘milk and sugar?’

‘Yes, please, So you’re the swapper.’

‘Careful. People might talk.’

Daniel raises an eyebrow. ‘Well let’s give them something to talk about, then…’

Amber splutters with laughter. ‘Goodness. You just don’t stop, do you?’

‘Not when I see something I want.’

Amber decides to try another tack. She is, after all, a mother, and here is a man acting much like a wilful child. ‘Come along, Daniel,’ she says sternly. ‘Come and sit in the living room. After you’ve finished your tea I think you ought to have some strong coffee to sober you up, and then I’ll send you home.’

‘Oooh, yes, teacher,’ Daniel grins, and Amber shakes her head and sighs. ‘So how come your husband let you come over to England for a month?’

‘I thought you’d forgotten all about this swap?’

‘It’s all coming back to me now. But seriously, what kind of man would let a woman as delicious as you out of his sight for that long?’

‘Well, truth be told, he didn’t want to. This was something I did without his knowledge, and once Vicky picked me I felt it was something I had to go through with, but trust me, he wasn’t happy about it at all.’

‘And how do you think Vicky will be getting on with him?’

‘Despite your inference, my husband is as faithful as I am. It’s not like either of us to have an affair.’

‘Who’s suggesting affair? I was thinking about one joyful night of passion.’

‘With you and your beery breath?’ Daniel’s flirting is making Amber more forward than she is used to, and for a moment she feels just like a single woman, a powerful woman used to using her sexuality to get what she wants, or doesn’t want. In fact, for the first time since she arrived Amber suddenly has a flash of what it really means to be Vicky, what being a single woman living in the city is really all about, and it is just as heady and empowering and exciting as it was all those years ago when Amber herself was single.

‘I would brush my teeth for you.’

‘Oh please!’ Amber laughs. ‘Will you just grow up?’

‘Okay, okay.’ Daniel holds his hands up in defeat and laughs. ‘So should I assume I won’t be staying the night?’

‘Not unless you’re comfortable staying on the sofa.’

‘Sounds fine to me,’ Daniel says. ‘Is there room for both of us?’

‘Oh very funny. Look, it’s very late and I’m very tired, and in the morning I’m catching a train down to Vicky’s brother and sister-in-law in the country. I really think you ought to go home.’

‘Okay, okay. Point taken. I know when I’m not wanted. But how about this: dinner on Sunday night? I bet you haven’t seen the neighbourhood at all.’

‘Actually I think I know it pretty well. I’ve been shopping at Waitrose, had lunch at Giraffe, been to Selfridges, had coffee at Providores…’

‘Ah. Well how about other neighbourhoods, then? Why don’t we go out for dinner so I can introduce you to some proper British food?’

‘Do you mean steak and kidney pie and trifle?’ Amber asks dubiously.

‘No. Well I mean maybe there’s steak and kidney pie on the menu, but I could just take you to a great restaurant. We could get to know one another a little bit. Come on. How about it?’ Amber hesitates and Daniel finally utters the words to make her change her mind: ‘If you were Vicky you’d say yes without a second thought.’

‘If I were Vicky I wouldn’t be sending you home now,’ Amber bats back quickly.

‘Ah yes. Good point. Does that mean I can stay?’

‘No it does not. Goodnight, Daniel.’

‘How about dinner on Sunday?’ he pleads as she ushers him to the front door.

‘I don’t know,’ Amber says. ‘Let me think about it.’

‘Oh God,’ groans Daniel just as Amber is shutting the front door on him. ‘Nothing I love more than a woman who plays hard to get. Do you know, I could fall in love with you?’

‘Oh behave,’ Amber echoes Austin Powers as she closes the door, and is then surprised to find herself grinning as she walks down the hallway and goes into the bathroom to brush her teeth.

‘Amber!’ Kate folds her arms around Amber, who, unused to this display of warmth, particularly from the English whom she had always thought of as extraordinarily reserved, attempts to hug her back. ‘Oh so lovely that you’re here! And look how glamorous and gorgeous you are. Our little town won’t know what to make of you! Kids! Come and say hello to Amber.’

Luke, Polly and Sophie, who had been hanging back behind Kate, now step forward sheepishly and say hello.

‘Oh my gosh!’ Amber can’t help herself. ‘They speak in perfect little British accents! How adorable!’

‘I can speak in an American accent too,’ Luke says.

‘Go on,’ Amber encourages. ‘What can you say?’

‘May the Force be with you,’ Luke says, in a hybrid mid-Atlantic accent, and Amber applauds.

‘Good job!’ she says. ‘That was perfect.’

‘Come on.’ Kate links her arm through Amber’s and leads her to the car. ‘Andy’s at home dealing with the chickens. Unfortunately the coop isn’t as secure as we thought and a fox got in last night and got three of the chickens before the dogs scared him off.’

‘Miss Martha and Dottie and Darth Vader are all in heaven now,’ says Sophie, slipping her hand into Amber’s as they walk along.

‘Darth Vader?’ Amber raises an eyebrow.

‘Ah yes. I think it’s clear that Darth Vader, or Miss Vader as she is – sorry, was, sometimes known, was Luke’s.’

‘That’s an interesting name,’ Amber grins at Luke.

‘I know. She was my first, but it’s okay because I’m going to get another chicken and this one’s going to be called Dash.’

‘Dash?’

‘Yes. From The Incredibles.’

Kate shrugs and rolls her eyes as they reach the beaten-up old Saab. ‘It’s his latest obsession, just out on DVD.’

They drive along country roads and Kate points out country pubs, local farms and where she does her shopping.

‘That’s our school!’ The kids bounce up and down in the back seat, leaning forward to stretch an arm across Amber to point out something else. ‘That’s our playground! That’s where I do ballet!’

‘Is this making you feel more at home now?’ Kate laughs, turning to look at Amber as they sit at a traffic light.

‘Apart from the English accents, absolutely,’ Amber grins, and it’s true. Now she feels like she belongs again. Back in a family, albeit not her own.

Andy is waiting outside the house as they pull up, hooting for the dogs to get out of the way.

‘Hello!’ he says, shaking her hand warmly, and smiling down at her. ‘Should I be calling you Amber or Vicky?’

‘I think Amber is perfect,’ Amber says.

‘Good. So, Amber, why don’t you come into the kitchen and sit down for a nice cup of tea?’

Amber is pulled upstairs midway through her cup of tea to go and see Polly and Sophie’s bedroom, and then the children insist she come with them to the vegetable patch at the back of the garden to help them pick peas for lunch, and Luke wants to show her where Darth Vader will be buried.

‘Buried?’ Amber whispers to Kate. ‘Aren’t you going to eat the chicken?’

‘Unfortunately not. These chickens were layers rather than roasters, plus none of them would have been plump enough, but I do rather fancy being entirely self-sufficient. I think Dash and her two companions will be roasters, although God knows what the kids will say when Dash suddenly appears on the supper table surrounded by roast potatoes and garlic.’

‘Come on!’ Luke’s head appears round the kitchen door. ‘Amber, hurry up!’

The four of them pick the peas then come back in to find Kate preparing a huge salad.

‘What can I do to help?’ Amber asks, standing helplessly behind Kate.

‘The kids like shelling the peas and the salmon’s all ready to go in the poacher. I think we’re all done. Andy’s going to do drinks, but maybe you could set the table outside? Would that be okay?’

‘Of course,’ and Kate points out where Amber will find everything.

‘What kind of help do you have during the week?’ Amber asks when the six of them have finished lunch, the kids having run off down to the stream at the bottom of the garden to throw stones, the grown-ups still drinking wine, and talking about coffee, although all of them are far too comfortable lazing in the sun to get up and go inside to put the kettle on.

‘Help? I have Mrs Reilly who comes twice a week to clean the house and help with the laundry.’

‘And for the kids?’

‘Well she’s wonderful with the kids, but she’s not a nanny, if that’s what you mean. She’s my lady who does.’

‘Does? Does what?’

‘You know. Clean.’

‘So who helps with the kids?’

‘You’re looking at her,’ Andy laughs. ‘Kate is wife, mum, nanny, gardener, chief washer-upper, decorator.’

Kate laughs at the expression on Amber’s face. ‘Don’t look so horrified, Amber. I’d love to have help but we couldn’t afford it.’

Andy looks stricken for an instant. ‘Would you really love to have help with the kids?’

‘No, not really, darling. Only when they’re tired and whiny. The truth is I did have a maternity nurse for Sophie and I couldn’t stand having someone else look after my baby. I know it must be a complete luxury to have an au pair or a nanny, and it’s not that I think there’s anything wrong with it, I just don’t think I would feel in control of my life if other people were looking after it instead of me.’

‘That’s it!’ Amber says suddenly. ‘That’s how I feel! Kate, you’ve just put your finger on it.’

‘What do you mean?’

‘I mean that I’m not in control of my life. I have a full-time nanny, a cleaning team that comes three times a week to thoroughly clean my house, a gardening team, a swimming pool man. Other people decorate my house, the nanny does the cooking. Oh my gosh,’ and she goes quiet as she thinks about the reality of her life. ‘I’m living my life but I’m not involved in it. That’s exactly what’s wrong with me.’

‘But if you’re not involved in it, how are you really living it?’ Kate asks gently.

‘That’s the point.’ Amber shakes her head, the weight of the realization sitting firmly on her shoulders. ‘I’m not living. I’m just existing, I guess, as though I’m caught in limbo, watching my life play out in front of me like a movie! Oh my God, do you have any idea how huge this is? I mean, look at you. You look after your own kids, you made this delicious lunch yourself, you’re in charge of your life.’

‘I think you’ll find I’m the one in charge,’ Andy jokes as Kate rolls her eyes.

‘It’s not always this perfect,’ Kate laughs. ‘You happen to have come down on a glorious English summer’s day when the children are behaving perfectly. On days like this anyone could do it all. It’s when it’s raining and we’re all stuck inside and everyone’s miserable and all I want is someone to come and take the children away to give me some peace and quiet.’

‘I guess it’s all about balance,’ Amber says quietly. ‘And right now the balance in my life is completely off.’

‘Well here’s to balance,’ and Andy pours everyone another glass of wine.

‘And to more glorious summer days.’ Kate smiles and they toast one another again.