"Seventeen down: Painted miseries. Five letters."

Miranda reached for another paper handkerchief and raised her eyebrows. "Are you making fun? That's so easy."

"Oh?" Andy was sitting at the other end of the couch from her, both their feet snuggled under a warm throw, as they sat facing each other sideways together in front of the living room fire. The lamps were already lit, and the couch was awash with the Sunday papers, and all the many supplements.

Cassidy was lying on the hearth-rug on her stomach, reading a novel about life on a wagon-train, while Caroline was trying to teach Matilda, their new Bichon puppy, to sit on her bottom for more than ten seconds. It was a normal Sunday afternoon in mid-January, they were all at home in the town-house, and the weather outside on the New York streets was atrocious.

"Tell me then."

"The Blues, or Blues."

"Oh, of course. Sometimes I can't see what's in front of my face."

"Hmm!" Miranda blew her nose and shivered. "That's true. If you had one ounce of sensitivity, my love, you'd see how I'm suffering, put down that damned crossword puzzle and go and fetch me another hot lemon drink."

It had taken a full three weeks, but Miranda had fallen victim to the same cold virus which had recently threatened to spoil Andy's Christmas, and was now sneezing her way through the middle of it. It made her as grumpy and difficult as she'd sometimes been in the early days of their acquaintance, what with sleepless nights coughing, a raging sore throat and the conviction she wouldn't even live to see her fiftieth birthday in a few days' time.

That gruesome anniversary was another major reason for her current bad mood. It seemed to be taking her further and further away from Andrea, who wouldn't catch her up again to be a mere twenty-four years younger until the following September. She couldn't see one redeeming feature in reaching a half century.

"Now, my precious, don't be so forlorn. I will go down to the kitchen immediately and fix you one of Cara's bombshell lemon and honey sizzlers. With something from the top shelf to finish it off."

Neither twin noticed what Andy had said, definitely a good thing, as they were fiendish when it came to limiting their parents' intake of alcohol, especially in the middle of a Sunday afternoon. Andrea unwound herself from Miranda's legs, pushed back the woollen throw and the pile of newsprint and stood up. The puppy Matilda, or Tilly, as they were already regrettably calling her, instantly jumped up as well and rushed for the door in front of her. Wherever Andrea went, she wanted to be there first.

It had only been a week since they had all collected Tilly from her breeder, but Miranda and her daughters had already realised that Andy had an almost Dr Doolittle like ability to communicate with both their recently acquired pets, and there was no point fighting it. Pumpkin the ginger kitten, was still in a massive sulk about the latest addition to the family, but had at least stopped hissing at her and stretching himself up to look like the fiend from Hell whenever she came into the kitchen. Andrea had had several long talks to him about manners, and he was trying to accept this new awful reality of having to share her with someone else, and a dog at that.

As she waited downstairs for the water to boil for Miranda's drink, Andrea watched the young animals interact together. Matilda was ridiculously too small, white and fluffy to be realistically classed as a dog yet, but she already had a dog's brave heart. She was also incurably friendly, and Pumpkin really didn't stand much chance against such a charm offensive.

Andy squeezed out a nicely large Florida lemon, added a generous amount of honey and hot water, and then reached up for the hidden bottle of Scotch. With luck this mixture might scare Miranda's cold into a retreat. Goodness knows the poor woman had suffered enough, twice or three times as long as she had herself. No wonder she had the blues, or in Miranda's case, the grumps.

She carried a large mug of the steaming hot liquid upstairs and hoped it might help improve matters. She could charm her lover better than anyone else in the world, but hard liquor and honey would probably work better in soothing the savage breast.

Later that night, after the girls had gone to bed, Andy sat again with Miranda on the couch, but this time had Miranda's head resting on her knees with the Welsh wool throw covering her slim body. She was still stricken with cold, but much more docile. She just wanted to be cuddled and loved, and of course Andrea was her very own official cuddle-bunny. She was currently fondling her hair and rubbing the small of her back, which did definitely stop it aching so much.

"Feel any better, darling?"

"Yes. I'm sorry I was such a monster earlier."

"You weren't at all. It's a symptom of the cold anyway. Remember how grumpy I was, even saying you were stupid in front of the twins when I was sickening with it! Grumpiness is part of life. We all have to simply forgive ourselves as we go along. No-one's a saint."

"You're so flipping forgiving and positive all the time, so perfect and loving. How do you do it?"

"Are you being sarcastic? You sound like Lily, who actually cited that as one reason she finds it almost impossible to be around me."

"No. I genuinely want to know. I wish I had one percent of your sweet spirit. At the moment I feel just a scratchy ball of bitchiness. I hate myself and I know I don't deserve you. Please don't leave me, will you, despite my appalling nature."

"Miranda, darling!" Andrea grabbed her shoulders and held her as tightly against her as she could. "Please don't even say such a horrible thing. I could never, ever leave you! I worship you, worship the footprints in the snow where your boots have left a mark. You know what you do to me, the power you have over me."

She paused and just let the words sink in. Miranda could spin from being a scary dominatrix to a crying baby within a few seconds, but the band round both their hearts was surely unbreakable.

"I know. I'm being ridiculous. It's the post-Christmas blues. I'm sorry, again, if I scared you. I just love you so much, and tonight I feel so old, so unattractive, hardly worth anyone's trouble."

"Lack of Vitamin D, that's your only problem. I know, let's go somewhere sunny, for your birthday! Cara will take good care of the girls and the animals. Let's just jet off somewhere. "

Andy so rarely demanded treats or suggested any extravagances that Miranda took real notice this time. She sat up, collected the disgusting mess of her discarded tissues on the floor by the couch, and gave her a positive nod of the head and something resembling a big smile.

"For a pip-squeak, you do sometimes have the very best ideas! That's exactly what we need. And if we're away, Nigel stands no chance of organising some hideously embarrassing birthday bash for me. I've been fearing the worst, as he knows the date and had a gleam in his eye when he last mentioned it."

"So where shall we go?"

Miranda stood up, continued to tidy the room in silence and then said, "Laguna, Laguna Beach."

"Laguna? Where's that?"

"It's a little town about an hour south of L.A. We did a shoot there several years ago, and I've always wanted to return. It's just the sort of place you'd like. Look in the paper and see what the weather's doing in Southern California right now."

"O.K. You know I've never been to Southern California!"

"In that case we must definitely go."

Andy flipped through the various sections of the Sunday paper until she reached the national weather reports. "Orange County?"

"Yes."

"Max temps for this week 78F, minimum 66F. Sounds perfect. When can we go? I'm already getting excited."

"Three days' time. Then we can stay for a week. My cold should be less contagious by then. I don't want to inflict it on unwary fellow passengers on a flight."

"Will the twins be very sad?"

"I hope not. Geoff and Cindy are due to have them next weekend anyway. If we fly back on the day after my birthday, we can all enjoy a dinner together in the evening. How does that sound?"

"It sounds wonderful. Now let's get you up to bed. I think you might sleep better tonight."

"You can go in the guest room of course, if you'd rather, or I could," said Miranda, conscious she had broken Andrea's sleep for several nights in a row."

"No, of course not!"

Andrea bundled Miranda up to bed, rubbed her cold feet and soothed her hot forehead with a wet facecloth, and then held her gently until she slept. As she had hoped, Miranda did sleep through the night, only charming Andy with little chipmunk like snuffles and grunts as she fell into a deep dream. So they were off to California, not by wagon train, but by the marvels of modern aviation. She couldn't wait!