Now, as Richard continued to read his book on marketing techniques, she lay back, one arm under her head, and listened to the traffic pass outside the partly open window. Summer was coming, that was plain, but it wasn't here yet. She looked at Richard, reading, and pinching his earlobe, as he always did when concentrating. She thought of Andrew, his infinitely understanding smile, and his warmth; of Amy, and her reckless happiness; and she was aware, too, of the room around her, its artifices, the rustle of the duvet cover, and the almost animal sound of the occasional car on the road.