iv

The bird, the bun and the horse meet for dinner.

Don't feel bad about Mark, says Hamish. Stockbrokers are aliens. You're more suited to a missionary or a vet. I'll introduce you to my life-coach, Veronique. She'll sort you out.

Plenty of birds in the air too, says Portia hugging her. If you prefer women, of course. Merlot?

Trina meanders home past bars full of cheeping women and braying men. She lies in bed, thinking about Mark. She realises he left out fame. Should she ring him?

Later, the moon shines in Trina's window. She wakes up and leans on the windowsill. The bun-faces stare at each other.

Where do starters start? Trina asks the moon. Do they suffer?