After Niles returned from the facilities - and I just *knew* he'd gone all the way back to the Winnebago, as if it wasn't a cinch, being a bloke at a music festival, compared to the plumbing nightmares endured by us women - we decided it was time to grab some dinner. We packed up and headed off to peruse the various caterers. Niles paled at the cartoon sign over the Hog Roast (goodness only knows where he *thinks* pork comes from), and opted instead for the noodle stand; though only, I suspect, because they provided polystyrene trays and little forks.

As we discarded our litter at the top of a precariously overloaded refuse station, his cellular phone rang. It was Michael. Niles passed the phone over to me, and I arranged to meet up. Maggie was bouncing with energy as we made our way out of the main site, to walk around to the backstage village. Niles and I teased her about behaving herself this evening, as we weren't about to carry her back to the motor home, a second time round.

I was strangely relieved when I was reunited with my big brother. I saw him shoot me a couple of odd looks, as we walked past the trailers and marquees. I was being clingy. I knew I was being clingy, but I couldn't help it. I felt as though I'd summoned the courage to face a marauding dragon, only for the dragon to take one look at me, snort in derision, and plod away, trying not to snigger.

We found ourselves back at the Indigo Haze trailer. Only Pete and the saxophonist from the band, Graham, someone we hadn't met the previous night, were kicking back in the main area. Michael went to the fridge and retrieved a bottle of champagne, telling us he'd wanted to drink a toast with his sister after playing today. I became a little teary at the idea. Michael teased me for this, and nobody seemed disturbed by my sentimentality. Nobody except me.

Our drinks were served in plastic cups, and I heard Niles mutter that this was about right for the vineyard and the vintage. Sometimes it does me good to remember how infuriatingly snobby he can be. I noticed that his contempt didn't prevent him from knocking the drink back swiftly and holding his cup out for a refill.

The thought occurred that *I* should be the one, trying to find drunken oblivion; it occurred just after his show of elitism had reminded me of the gulf between Niles' world and my own ...

... and just before I wondered how the hell my life had come to explode in my face, in the space of a weekend.

Fortunately, there were sufficient people present to keep the conversation pleasant and without awkward pauses. We chatted away, though I found myself contributing less and less to the discussions. It won't surprise you to learn that I was brooding. After perhaps half an hour or so, I asked Michael if he could spare me a private moment. He looked at me in interest and then nodded. We left the table, saying we were going for a family chat. I didn't look at Niles as we headed off into the trailer.

"Oh, Mickey!" I cried, as soon as we were alone in his bedroom. And to my brother's astonishment and concern, I threw myself at him and burst into tears.

Michael guided me to sit down and didn't say a word, not until I reached into my pocket for a handkerchief and pulled out the one Niles had offered me earlier. The sight of Niles' hankie provoked a fresh bout of weeping, at which point Michael finally spoke.

"Hey, Daphne! Come on, love, what on earth's the matter?" He took the hankie from me, dried my face and then held it over my nose. "Blow," he demanded, in a falsetto that was so like mum's voice, I had to laugh. er that he might have lied to Maggie, in order to make *her* feel better."

I snatched the hankie back and pulled myself together. "I'm sorry," I muttered, wary of the way my breath was still catching. "I've got myself in a right old state."

"This is about Niles, isn't it?"

I looked at him through bleary eyes. All I could do was nod.

There was silence for a while, but it was a comfortable silence. When I could speak without hiccuping, I explained about what I'd overheard, and how it had made me run off and hide.

My face crumpled. "He didn't even mean it!" I replied, my voice sounding tight and ridiculous. "When I told him I'd heard what he said, he explained that he just said it to get rid of Maggie!"

Michael looked away, frowning, then sighed, heavily.

"What's that supposed to mean?" I asked.

"Daphne. Lovey. Look at it this way. You go missing for an hour. Niles tears his hair out with panic. You come back all upset. Finally you tell him that your little tantrum was down to the things you overheard him say to Maggie." He hesitated, waiting for this new perspective to sink in. "What the hell did you *expect* him to say?"

I considered. Then I shook my head vehemently. "No. No, Niles Crane is a lot of things, but he isn't a liar. He wouldn't have lied to me."

"Even if he thought he was doing the right thing? The best thing, for your peace of mind? I mean, you were happy enough, just now, to consider that he might have lied to Maggie, in order to make *her* feel better."

Oh, I hated my brother in that instant, because everything that I was just starting to straighten out in my mind was being jumbled up further. I shook my head and couldn't answer.

"All right, Stilts. Lets forget what Niles might or might not think, for a minute. What about you?"

"What about me?"

"All this has made you think about what you feel for him. *That's* what has you so upset."

"Mickey, you're a drummer, not a psychiatrist."

"Drummers aren't all cavemen, you know! Some of us have quite profound thoughts, sitting on our little drum-risers, bashing away."

He won his smile, and his arm tightened around my shoulders. "All right, yes," I sighed, giving in. "When I thought he felt that way, I found myself thinking that I might, possibly -"

"Oh, now you're just being cagey. Come on, lass. Out with it. Was I right last night, or was I right?"

I hit him across the chest. "You were bloody well right, is that what you want to hear?"

"Well, it's always nice to hear that, but maybe I'm not the man who *should* be hearing it?"

"Michael, stop trying to play matchmaker, this is not an episode of 'The Love Boat'!"

My brother startled. "Oh, wow, mum couldn't get enough of that show!" He shook his head, then arched an eyebrow at me. "'The Love Boat ....'" he crooned, recalling its insipid theme tune.

"I'm serious!"

"Okay. You want your big brother's advice?" I nodded cautiously. "Let me go and grab Niles by the scruff of his neck, bring him down here, and then you two can start being honest with each other."

I froze. "I can't do that!"

"Why not?"

"Too many reasons to name!" I returned defiantly.

"Then name *one* of them."

"Fine. How's this? I don't want to lose my job!"

Michael sighed and retracted his arm. "And how does that follow?"

"Well isn't it obvious?" He shook his head. "Fine, caveman, words of one syllable, just for you. If you're wrong and he doesn't feel that way about me, the embarrassment of being turned down would be too much for me to stay with the family. On the other hand, if Niles does feel the same way I do ... the same way I *might* do ... then I'll have to quit anyway!"

"Why?"

"Good grief, do I have to spell it out?"

"Yes."

I shook my head until it hurt. "You've only seen him here, but Niles Crane is all expensive suits and opera and sherry! He reads the Society pages in the newspaper before the bleeding headlines! They *are* his headlines! He won't want to be seen dating the help. If we decided to go for it, I'd *have* to resign!"

"Daphne, what year is it?" Michael said, quietly.

"It's the year 2000 and that doesn't make what I say any less valid!" My brother looked at me, completely unconvinced. I pressed my argument home, though I'll concede it was as much for my own sake as Michael's. It was useful to have the chance to order the pros and cons in my head.

Make that the cons and cons.

"Anyway, if we tried things out for size and it didn't work out, how could I stay *then*? Don't you understand how much I've got to lose, here?"

"So what are you going to do? Pretend this whole weekend didn't happen and carry on like before? Do you think that's even possible?"

"Of course it's possible."

"Then why did you want to talk to me? Seems like you've got it all figured out, however wrongheaded."

"Because it hurts!" I cried, louder than I intended. And my exasperated brother melted, and put his arms around me again.

I thought that would be it. I thought the argument was over. Unfortunately, the Moon family is known for a streak of the most stubborn persistence.

Michael was only letting me catch my breath.