SILK WICKEDNESS 38

Another volunteer was painting the ceiling. ‘Steve, I feel really dreadful -I think it’s paint fumes on top of this cold. I’ve got to go home. Will you clear up my paint and stuff? I’ve nearly finished that wall.*

He frowned at her from the ladder. ‘Are you all right to drive?’

‘Fine. I’ll be back tomorrow if I feel better. Tell Julie I’m really sorry.’

She was out in seconds and into the shiny new Peugeot she’d indulged in. Parked right next to it was a Range Rover, just like the one they’d used in Muscat, but black.

With tears spilling onto her cheeks, she accelerated over the gravel drive and escaped.

You fool. Couldn’t you have stayed, just to see him? Acted your brains out?

Like this ? She glanced at her face in the rear view mirror. With a red nose and paint on my face? Dressed like a sack of manky old King Edwards ?

It was the first sunny day for ages, and the world and his wife and kids were out. It took her ages to get home. Kate and Paul were out, househunting, and only Port