Vicky didn’t expect it to feel quite so strange. She keeps looking around to ask permission to do things: is it okay if I drive the car? Can I help myself to food in the fridge? Should I be feeding Ginger or does he always beg like this? And most importantly, what am I supposed to do until the kids get home?

There is no Lavinia, presumably because she has gone to collect the children from their various activities, and the last thing Vicky wants is for Lavinia to walk in and find her doing something heinous and lazy like watching the Oprah show in the middle of the day, so in the end she makes herself a bagel – the jet lag is making her starving, even though she’s already had about eight meals today – and sits at the kitchen counter leafing through the pile of catalogues that are threatening to topple off the edge of the desk.

In the Neiman Marcus catalogue she finds three pairs of shoes that she would kill for but couldn’t afford; in J. Jill she admires a floaty chiffon-like skirt, and in Frontgate she spends a few minutes fantasizing over the various pool toys, and wondering whether Amber and Richard already have one of those glorious-looking lilos with a hole in the arm just the right size for a pina colada.

They do, after all, have the swimming pool, and Amber is one of those women who have a permanent tan from April through to October. Vicky has seen those movies where the women lounge around the pool all morning, working on their tans and keeping up with celebrity gossip via the trashy magazines, and she is rather hopeful that she will find some time to do the same, even though Amber’s typical schedule doesn’t seem to have any sunbathing time worked into it.

Today is a glorious August day, and the water is starting to tempt. Vicky goes outside and dips a finger in, and she smiles widely. It’s almost as warm as a bath – just the way Vicky likes it. Oh what the hell. She has time for a quick swim, and going to the pool house she finds that of course Amber and Richard have one of the lilos with a hole in the arm for a drink – what self-respecting McMansion owner wouldn’t? – and pulling it out she places it carefully next to the edge of the pool before heading back in to double-check the timetable.

The timetable hasn’t changed. Fridays are still playdate days, and given that it’s only three thirty, Lavinia and the kids won’t be back for hours, so even though Vicky is determined to be the greatest mother in the whole wide world, it doesn’t have to start until the children get home from their playdate. Admittedly, she did think about spending the afternoon cooking one of the meals remembered from her own childhood, but she can always start the whole mother thing tomorrow, and a cursory glance at the freezer reveals it is stuffed to the gills with frozen pizzas and chicken nuggets, so it isn’t as if the children are going to go hungry if she doesn’t cook. Not that Amber ever cooks herself, and Vicky’s had a long flight and is tired – hell, she deserves to spend a couple of hours trying to erase her white, pasty skin, the product of a typical English summer in London.

Now this is more like it, Vicky smiles as she floats around the pool, stretching out luxuriously as she enjoys the silence. Christ, she thinks, how does Amber ever get up and out? If I lived here all the time I’d be out here all day every day. This is like being on holiday, how could anyone ever motivate themselves to do anything other than this?

Her swimming costume is still squashed somewhere at the bottom of her suitcase, and the last thing she felt like doing was unpacking. And there’s no one here, and no one to see, and she just wanted to see what it felt like, floating on this lilo, and so what if she’s in bra and knickers. It’s not as if she’s never done this before, although granted, if she were stripping off in a London park she probably wouldn’t wear a black lacy push-up bra that she’s practically spilling out of, teamed with a purple G-string, but she’s only going to be a minute, and it was so much easier to just strip off and leave her clothes on a sunbed.

Vicky closes her eyes and thinks about her childhood, remembers begging her parents to put in a swimming pool, announcing very seriously that the only thing she ever wanted for her eighth birthday was a proper swimming pool, and if she didn’t get one she might die.

Around the corner there was a family called the Simpsons, and they had a swimming pool. Vicky knew they must have been very rich, and even though she wasn’t that friendly with the daughter, Cathy, every now and then the neighbourhood gang of kids would be invited over for a swimming party.

Then Samantha Payne’s parents bought a new house and they had a swimming pool too, and it was indoor, and when they went over there the pool was so hot there was steam rising up from it, clouding the glass roof.

‘Please, please, please,’ Vicky remembers begging as her parents had laughed and said not only was it not worth it given the typical English summer, but did Vicky think they were made of money?

And now here she is, she thinks happily, finally with a swimming pool, even though it’s only hers for a month; but she’s definitely going to make the most of it, and if she misses a few of Amber’s charity meetings, what the hell? Surely it’s just as important to look the part as it is to play the part, and having a suntan suddenly seems like a top priority.

‘Vicky! Vicky!’

The voice sounds as if it’s coming from far away and reluctantly Vicky opens her eyes. She’s so comfortable, drifting around the pool, fast asleep, in the middle of a wonderful dream where she’s on a yacht with Jamie Donnelly who is just about to kiss her (even though he doesn’t look like Jamie Donnelly, in fact he doesn’t seem to have much of a face at all, which is the usual story with her dreams – one of these days she must remember to look that up and see what it means – but still, it feels delicious), and someone from shore is disturbing that kiss by shouting her name.

Except it’s not someone from shore. It’s Lavinia standing by the side of the swimming pool, holding Gracie on her hip as Jared dances from foot to foot announcing that he wants to go swimming too.

Vicky blinks her eyes in a bid to focus and wake up properly, and sees that over by the gate is another woman with three children, and as Vicky rouses herself she is mortified that she has fallen asleep in the swimming pool on her first day here, and there are guests, and what a terrible first impression. What kind of a mother would do this?

‘Oh God, Lavinia, I’m so sorry!’ Vicky paddles to the side of the pool and rather gracelessly clambers out. ‘I fell asleep. It must have been the jet lag. I’m so embarrassed!’ And she becomes more so as she stands and remembers what she’s wearing. A black lacy bra that is probably too small for her, and a purple G-string.

‘You’d better put some cream on that white skin of yours,’ Lavinia sniffs. ‘You’re the colour of a lobster.’

‘Oh God,’ Vicky groans, willing herself not to cry, and it’s only as she desperately tries to pull on her clothes that she hears hoots of laughter and whistles behind her.

Turning she sees a team of Mexican gardeners, leaning on their hoes as they whistle and grin approvingly at her, speaking amongst themselves in Spanish.

‘Oh Fuck Off,’ she is tempted to shout, and manages not to, remembering that she is still trying to make a good impression, and there are five small children around who do not need to hear that.

‘I’m so sorry,’ she says again to Lavinia, now dressed, with a flush of embarrassment still on her cheeks.

‘I’m Vicky,’ she says to the other mother. ‘I’m staying here for a month.’

‘And making yourself at home, I see,’ says the other mother, but not unkindly, and there is a twinkle in her eye. ‘Just ignore the gardeners,’ she continues. ‘You’ve probably just made their summer. And I’m Nadine. We’ve had a playdate this afternoon and I needed to just come by and pick up the permission slip for the kids to go on a Field Trip next week. Amber was meant to have dropped it in but she must have forgotten. Do you know where it is?’

‘Um, Lavinia? Do you know?’

‘Nope.’

‘Well let’s go inside and have a look for it,’ Vicky says pleasantly. ‘I’m sure it’s somewhere around. Hi, Gracie!’ Vicky bends down to say hello to Gracie, sure that the child will remember her, will be pleased to see her given how well they got on last time, but without Amber here Gracie, suddenly shy, hides behind Lavinia’s legs and refuses to look Vicky in the eye.

Well this is a great start, thinks Vicky. At least it’s not going to get any worse.

The permission slip is nowhere to be found. Lavinia disappears to finish the laundry, leaving Vicky with the two children, Nadine, Nadine’s children and a lost permission slip.

Feeling like a spy, Vicky checks all the drawers of the desk, Jared and Gracie’s backpacks, and various coat pockets. Nothing.

‘Is there any chance I could get another one?’ she asks. ‘Do you think if I came to camp early on Monday morning and got one it would be fine?’

‘You can try,’ Nadine says. ‘Although they said the deadline was today, and anyone who didn’t have a slip couldn’t go.’

‘Go where?’ Jared asks, skidding to a stop in the kitchen, followed by Nadine’s son who goes crashing into him.

‘To the Bronx zoo,’ Nadine’s son says. ‘You’re not coming because you don’t have a permission slip.’

‘I wanna go to the Bronx zoo.’ Jared’s little face crumples up.

‘Don’t worry,’ Vicky pleads. ‘I’ll sort it out on Monday. You’ll still go. I’ll come in and talk to the camp on Monday.’

‘Can I go to the zoo too?’ Gracie wanders in, looking hopefully up at Vicky, having decided that she will talk to her after all.

Vicky looks at Nadine.

‘No, honey,’ Nadine says. ‘It’s just for the big kids.’

‘But I wanna go to the zoo too!’ Gracie starts wailing, and Nadine mouths an apology at Vicky, who suddenly thinks that perhaps Nadine isn’t quite as nice as she seems.

‘I’d better go,’ Nadine says, hustling her children together and taking them out of the back door. ‘Say bye bye to Jared and Gracie, kids.’ Her kids say nothing.

‘Say bye bye to Mrs –? What was it again?’

‘Oh I’m not Mrs,’ Vicky laughs. ‘It’s Vicky.’

‘I’d prefer the children to call you Mrs something, or Miss.’

‘Oh. Okay. Well, Miss Townsley, then, I suppose.’

Nadine nods. ‘Say bye bye to Miss Townsley.’

And the kids say nothing as Nadine leaves and Vicky sinks onto a stool at the kitchen counter, wondering why the words Miss Townsley suddenly make her feel like the oldest spinster in the world.

‘How does she seem?’ Suzy is on the other end of Nadine’s cell phone as she pulls out of the driveway of Amber’s house.

‘Completely disorganized. And slutty. I can’t even tell you what she was wearing when we pulled in. She was fast asleep, floating round the swimming pool on a raft in black and purple lacy underwear. Can you believe it?’

‘Nooooo!’ Suzy is horrified, wants more information, is loving hearing that not everything about Amber’s life is perfect. ‘I can’t believe Amber would let someone slutty in her house! She wore underwear in the pool? That’s outrageous! Do you think Richard is safe?’

‘God no,’ Nadine laughs. ‘Not that she’s anything special, but I wouldn’t let someone like that in my house with my husband. Are you kidding? The only reason I can think that Amber is doing this has to be that her marriage is in trouble, don’t you think?’

‘I totally agree. Letting another woman come and pretend to be you for a month! I mean, I could understand it for, like, a week maybe. For a TV show or something, but a month! A whole month? That tells me that yes, there’s definitely something up with the marriage.’

‘I know, and they always try and appear so perfect. Just goes to show you that you never know what goes on behind closed doors.’

‘So do you think she’s going to be, you know, going after Richard?’ Suzy is almost breathless in her excitement at this new, unexpected gossip. When Amber had been confronted about Life Swap by the women in the League, she hadn’t said she was doing it because she was unhappy – God forbid any of those women should know her life is anything other than peachy-perfect – she had said she was doing it as an anthropological experiment, that a friend of hers worked on a British magazine and had begged her to do it, and she was curious to see whether she could still hack it as a single girl.

It was the greatest gift she had given the League since the complete set of Villeroy & Boch dinner service for last year’s silent auction.

The phones in Highfield buzzed for days, and just as the brouhaha was dying down, here was this to set them all a-buzzing again. The girl that Amber said was just a nice girl, a single journalist from London, is actually a slut! A man-eating black-lace-wearing slut who has already had numerous affairs with married men! She has practically told Nadine that she will be sleeping in Amber’s bed! She’s implied that she finds Richard unbelievably attractive! What do we all think of Amber’s perfect marriage now?

Oh my. And who thought life in suburbia was boring?

‘So who wants pizza for dinner?’ Vicky has already put the pizza under the grill, and has rounded up the children from the playroom, Lavinia still nowhere to be found.

‘I don’t like pizza,’ Gracie says, pouting as she stands next to her chair.

‘And I had pizza for lunch,’ Jared says. ‘I don’t want pizza again. I want something else.’

‘Oh.’ Bugger. What now? If she were at home, with her nieces and nephew, she’d be telling them that they get what they get and they don’t get upset. As Kate always says, she’s not running a restaurant, and Kate ought to know.

Polly and Sophie have always been fantastic eaters, but Luke never eats anything. In the beginning Kate would kill herself offering alternatives, and then each mealtime became a series of bribes. ‘Three more bites and you can have some ice cream; ten more bites and you can watch Star Wars.’

After a while she got fed up with the constant battles, and decided to try a new tactic: she puts the meal on the table and after that it’s up to them. If Luke doesn’t want to eat, he doesn’t have to, but he doesn’t get anything else once he leaves the table.

Normally Vicky thinks Kate is a genius when it comes to child-rearing, and tends to emulate her when she’s with Kate’s kids. But these aren’t Kate’s kids. Nor are they hers, and she’s not at home, and with a flash of guilt she realizes she should have asked them before just making pizza thinking that it was a fail-safe.

‘Okay, sorry, guys,’ she says. ‘What would you like?’

‘Hot dogs,’ Jared says, getting up from the table, swiftly followed by Gracie who announces she would like a grilled cheese.

Ten minutes later Jared says he doesn’t like the hot dog which Vicky cooked in a pot of boiling water. ‘Mom always puts it in the microwave,’ he whines. Funny, thinks Vicky, I don’t remember him being this whiny or difficult the last time I was here.

‘And I don’t like this,’ Gracie says, pushing her grilled cheese away. ‘This isn’t the way Mom makes it.’

Eventually Vicky finds a supper that makes them happy. Unfortunately it consists of chocolate-chip cookies, muffins and ice cream.

At six o’clock she finally gives in and calls Lavinia to help bath them. It’s now eleven o’clock at night in England, she’s had a hell of a long day, and her skin is starting to feel horribly tight from her unexpected nap in the swimming pool.

At seven o’clock Gracie is in bed, Vicky having read her The Tiger Who Came to Tea, which Vicky brought with her from London, thrilling Gracie who insists that she reads it three times.

At seven thirty Vicky manages to calm Jared down from his sugar high and put him into bed, and it’s all she can do to drag her feet up the stairs into the master bedroom and unpack, when the phone rings.

‘Hi, Vicky, it’s Richard.’

‘Oh hi!’

‘I’m just calling to let you know that I’m going to be late tonight. I’m so sorry, I thought maybe we could have dinner and I could tell you a bit about how everything works, but I’m stuck in a meeting and probably won’t be back before ten. How has your first day been?’

‘Exhausting,’ she says. ‘And strange. I keep wanting to ask permission to do things, and then I remember that I’m supposed to be the mother here, and I’m the one who grants the permission, not asks it. And then I met Nadine, and I had fallen asleep in the swimming pool, and now I’m sunburnt and it was incredibly embarrassing…’ she tails off. Probably not appropriate to tell Richard she’d stripped off in his swimming pool.

‘Don’t worry about it. I’m glad someone’s using the pool other than the kids. Amber begged me to put the pool in and never has time to use it. And you have to be careful with that sun. It’s far stronger than you think.’

‘Thank you. I’ve realized that now. The kids wanted you to go and say goodnight to them.’

Richard sighs. ‘I know. They always do. I’m definitely going to be home earlier next week. Will you be up when I get back?’

‘I doubt it. It’s all I can do to keep my eyes open tonight. I think I’m going to turn in now.’

‘Turn in?’

‘Go to bed.’

‘Ah. Okay. So I’ll see you in the morning. Sleep well.’

‘Thanks, Richard. See you in the morning.’ And as Vicky puts down the phone she realizes that for the first time she sounded, and felt, just like a wife, and she’s not sure it’s such a good thing after all.