Flawless
Sara Craven

www.millsandboon.co.uk

Former journalist SARA CRAVEN published her first novel ‘Garden of Dreams’ for Mills & Boon in 1975. Apart from her writing (naturally!) her passions include reading, bridge, Italian cities, Greek islands, the French language and countryside, and her rescue Jack Russell/cross Button. She has appeared on several TV quiz shows and in 1997 became UK TV Mastermind champion. She lives near her family in Warwickshire – Shakespeare country.

Table of Contents

Cover

Title Page

About the Author

CHAPTER ONE

CHAPTER TWO

CHAPTER THREE

CHAPTER FOUR

CHAPTER FIVE

CHAPTER SIX

CHAPTER SEVEN

CHAPTER EIGHT

CHAPTER NINE

CHAPTER TEN

Endpage

Copyright

CHAPTER ONE

‘BUT YOU HATE this kind of occasion,’ said Clive. ‘You always have. You call them “meat auctions” and “slave markets”. You know you do.’

Carly, seated at her dressing-table, applying blusher with a practised hand, gave his irate reflection the smile the camera loved. ‘That’s quite right.’

‘Then why in hell are we all going to the Flawless reception?’

‘I changed my mind.’

‘Now, that I don’t believe.’ Clive turned on his wife who was lounging on Carly’s bed, leafing through a copy of Harpers Bazaar. ‘Speak to her, Marge.’

‘Waste of breath,’ said Marge serenely. She eyed wistfully a photograph of a reed-slender black cocktail dress. ‘Oh, why haven’t I got thirty-four-inch hips?’

‘Because you have three children,’ said Clive, and brightened. ‘Now there’s a thought,’ he said beguilingly. ‘Why don’t we scrap the Flawless do, go back to the house, and challenge the monsters to a team game of Trivial Pursuit?’

‘No,’ Marge and Carly said in unison, and he glared at them.

‘Why not?’

‘Because they always beat us,’ said his wife.

‘And because we’re going to the Flawless party.’ Carly reached for a mascara wand, and began to pay minute attention to her eyelashes. ‘It’s important to me, Clive.’

‘Oh, for heaven’s sake.’ The end of Clive’s tether seemed to be fast approaching. ‘They want a pretty girl to launch a new range of cosmetics, that’s all. Just because they’ve hyped it into the search for the new Scarlett O’Hara, it still doesn’t make it any big deal.’

Carly sighed. ‘Clive, you’re my agent. Don’t you want me to get work?’

‘You do get work. I get you work. I have things in the pipeline now that will make the Flawless deal look like yesterday’s news.’ He dragged a chair forward and sat down. ‘Sweetie, you’re at a crucial point in your career. I don’t think the Flawless job would be a particularly good move for you.’

‘Is that what you’ve told all your clients?’

‘Of course not,’ he said. ‘It will be a fabulous chance—for somebody.’

‘Then why not me?’

‘Because it would place you under an exclusive contract to them for a year and probably far longer. You wouldn’t be able to take other assignments, and you’d be typed as the Flawless Girl for ever after.’

‘I’m ready to risk that.’

‘But why?’ howled Clive. ‘You’ve trusted my judgement in the past. Why are you doing this to me—to yourself?’

Carly replaced the mascara in her make-up kit. ‘I have an instinct about it. Besides,’ she paused, ‘it’s an ambition of mine to be photographed by Saul Kingsland.’

Marge looked up. ‘Now you’re talking,’ she said. ‘I hear he’s an absolute dish. Good-looking and sexy as hell.’

‘Oh, do you?’ snorted Clive. ‘Well, I hear he’s a complete bastard. His models end up in tears, and his assistants have nervous breakdowns.’

Carly’s brows rose. ‘But he’s a genius with a camera. And I suppose genius has to be allowed a certain amount of—artistic temperament.’

‘That’s not all Flawless are allowing him,’ Clive said sourly. ‘He also gets a free hand to pick The Girl.’ He exhaled, frowning. ‘Carly, every hopeful in modelling will be there tonight, parading themselves in front of him, and a few that should have given up hope by now,’ he added grimly. ‘You don’t need to do this. If you’re really so set on the damned job, I’ll get on to Septimus Creed. His agency’s handling the campaign, after all, so he should be able to pull some strings with Kingsland—and he owes me a favour …’

‘No!’ Carly banged her fist on the dressing-table, making the jars and bottles jump. Clive and Marge jumped too, and stared at her.

She bit her lip. ‘I—I’m sorry. But I don’t want any string-pulling. I want to go to the reception, and be chosen on my own merits.’

‘And if you’re not? It could be a pretty public rejection, sweetie. Everyone there will know you tried for it and failed.’ Clive’s face was sober.

‘O, ye of little faith,’ she said lightly.

‘I’m serious. Supposing Saul Kingsland’s idea of flawless is a five-foot blonde with baby-blue eyes, and a peaches-and-cream complexion?’

‘That’s your fantasy woman, darling, not Mr Kingsland’s,’ his wife said, getting to her feet. ‘You’ve badgered Carly long enough. Now let’s leave her to finish dressing in peace.’ At the door, she paused. ‘Have you ever actually met Saul Kingsland before, Carly?’ she asked casually.

‘Of course she hasn’t met him,’ Clive cut in impatiently. ‘How could she have? She’d have still been a kid at school when he took off for America four years ago. And he hasn’t been back since. I never thought he would come back.’

Marge shrugged. ‘I only wondered,’ she returned mildly, leading her still fuming husband into the sitting-room, and closing the door behind them.

Carly released a long, deep breath, letting sudden tension flow out of her.

‘Take it easy,’ she whispered to her mirrored image. ‘You have a long night ahead of you.’

She eyed herself with a kind of clinical detachment, trying to see herself as Saul Kingsland would later that evening.

Her hair cascaded to her shoulders in wave after wave of burnished mahogany. Her eyes under the long sweep of mascaraed lashes were as cool and tranquil as aquamarines. She had a pale skin, a small, straight nose, a chin that was determined without being obtrusive, and a well-shaped mouth, the top lip clearly defined, the lower one curving in discreetly sensual promise.

‘Flawless,’ she said aloud, and with irony.

Her dress was aquamarine too, a simple, supple shape that left one shoulder bare, and she wore no jewellery, not even a watch.

I don’t want to know when it’s midnight. I might turn back into a pumpkin, she thought, and for a moment her hands clenched into fists at her sides.

But it couldn’t happen. Here she was, after all, Carly North. One of modelling’s newest and most successful faces. An up and coming name. Someone to be reckoned with in the cut-throat world of promoting beauty and fashion.

Just for a second, she wondered what the assignments were that Clive had been lining up for her, and allowed herself a brief pang of regret. Quite apart from the fact that he and Marge had become almost her second family, she had nothing but praise for the way he’d handled her career so far.

But she couldn’t have second thoughts now. She’d waited too long for this chance. Her decision was made, and there was no going back.

She was going to be the Flawless Girl. She had to be.

She picked up her flask of First by Van Cleef and Arpels, and drew the glass stopper delicately over her pulse points. By the time she got to the reception, the fragrance would be blooming and alive on her skin.

Then she smiled at herself. It wasn’t a smile that Marge, Clive, or the children would have recognised, or, indeed, any of the photographers she’d worked with in the past, who spoke of her warm vitality.

It was a harsh, almost feral twist of the lips.

‘Saul Kingsland.’ She said his name aloud like an incantation. ‘You won’t choose anyone else. You won’t see anyone else.’

She picked up her wrap and went to join the others.

It was a warm night, and the long french windows of the hotel’s banqueting suite had been thrown open. The balcony outside overlooked the hotel’s sunken garden, a square of paved walks interleaving beds of crowding shrubs and roses.

Carly stood beside one of the open windows, and drew a deep, grateful breath. Clive had been so right about her loathing of this kind of party, she thought, grimacing inwardly. The clash of most of the popular scents on over-heated bodies vied for supremacy with the smell of alcohol, and the all-pervasive reek of tobacco smoke.

The champagne had been flowing freely all evening. Carly’s own glass was almost untouched, but other people hadn’t been so abstemious. Around her, voices were being raised, and laughter was a little too strident. Some of the other girls were looking flushed, too, and their immaculate grooming was becoming frayed round the edges.

If he keeps us all waiting much longer, people will start passing out, Carly told herself. But perhaps that’s how he’s going to make his choice—the only girl still vertical at the end of the evening.

Her mouth curled in distaste at the thought. In fact, Saul Kingsland’s delayed appearance at the reception spoke of arrogance of the worst kind. But maybe the man who was being spoken of, since his recent return from the States, as the natural successor to David Bailey and Patrick Lichfield, felt himself above the consideration of other people’s feelings or convenience. If so, he would undoubtedly be a swine to work with.

Good, Carly thought, lifting her hair away from the nape of her neck for a moment so that the faint breeze could caress her skin. That suits me just fine.

‘Carly, I thought it was you.’ Gina Lesley, with whom she’d worked on a bathing-suit feature in the Bahamas, appeared from nowhere. ‘Isn’t this whole thing unbelievable? It’s like being in some harem, and waiting for the Sultan to appear and pick one of us for the night.’

‘They say it’s exactly like that,’ an elfin-faced girl, her red hair exotically tipped with gold, broke in eagerly. ‘Lauren reckons that Saul Kingsland sleeps with all his models. Do you suppose it’s true?’

Gina gave Carly a speaking look. ‘I shouldn’t think so for a moment,’ she returned crushingly. ‘If he went in for that kind of bedroom athletics he wouldn’t be able to focus his eyes, let alone a camera.’

The other girl pouted and walked off.

‘Incredible,’ Gina muttered. ‘In fact, the latest whisper from the powder-room says that we’re all wasting our time because the great man has no intention of showing here tonight.’

Carly was very still. ‘I hope that isn’t true,’ she said sharply.

‘So do I, darling. And to add to my depression, one of the hacks from the Creed agency is spreading the word that Saul Kingsland is going for a total unknown—someone he’ll see in the street, or serving in a shop, maybe.’

‘I don’t believe it,’ Carly said. ‘They wouldn’t be throwing away their money on a bash like this if that was the case.’

Gina grinned at her. ‘Positive thinking,’ she said. ‘That’s what I like to hear.’ She paused. ‘Oddly enough, you were the last person I expected to see here tonight.’

Carly shrugged. ‘I have to eat, too,’ she returned. ‘I just wish it was all over, and we could go home.’

‘Well, something seems to be happening at last.’ Gina craned her neck. ‘Some of the Flawless bigwigs are milling about, and Septimus Creed is doing his marshalling act. I think someone’s going to make a speech.’

The chairman of the company producing the new cosmetic range mounted the flower-decked dais at the end of the room, and tested the microphone a shade uncertainly. After the usual words of welcome, he launched into an enthusiastic description of the new range.

‘Flawless,’ he told them, ‘is not just another brand of make-up. We regard it as a total look—part of today’s woman’s complete way of life—hypo-allergenic, yet highly fashion-conscious at the same time. And we pride ourselves on the fact that we are leading the way in banning animal testing from our laboratories.’

Carly joined in the dutiful ripple of applause, and took a sideways step towards the open window to gulp another breath of fresh air. And in that moment she saw him.

He was standing at the head of the short flight of stairs which led down into the banqueting suite from its main entrance, his eyes restlessly scanning the crowded room.

He was tall, she thought, her gaze devouring him. Broad-shouldered and lean-hipped. He was by no means conventionally handsome. His features were too strong—too assertive with those heavy-lidded grey eyes, jutting chin, and a nose that was almost a beak. He shouldn’t even have been attractive, Carly told herself. His face was too thin, and the lines round his face and mouth altogether too cynical. His hair was too long, and the formality of his dinner-jacket sat uneasily on him, Carly told herself critically. His tie was slightly crooked, as if he’d wrenched at its constriction with an impatient hand.

Yet in spite of this—because of this?—he was attractive. Devastatingly, heart-stoppingly, unequivocally attractive. All man, someone had called him once, and it was true. A man who spent his life among beautiful women, and enjoyed that life to the full.

But no one else had noticed his arrival, Carly realised as she stared across at him. They were all facing the dais, listening to the chairman’s peroration.

With total deliberation and concentration, she focused all her attention on him, willing him to turn his head, and see her.

Look at me, she commanded silently. Look at me now.

Slowly, as if she was operating some invisible magnet, Saul Kingsland’s head turned, and across the room their eyes met.

For a long moment Carly held his gaze, then she deliberately snapped the thread, turning to watch Septimus Creed who’d followed the chairman on to the dais and was outlining the thinking behind the plans for the campaign.

‘The Flawless concept is one of total freshness—naturalness—even purity,’ he was saying. ‘And this is what we want our Flawless Girl to represent.’

‘Well, that cuts me out,’ Gina whispered with a humorous grimace.

Carly forced a smile in return, but said nothing. Her mind was working feverishly. She’d made him notice her, but was it—would it be enough?

It means so much, she thought. It has to be enough. Has to.

‘My goodness!’ Gina’s eyes were widening. ‘Do you see who’s here—who’s actually arrived? How long do you think he’s been standing there?’ She took a breath. ‘I’m going over to say hello. Introduce myself. Coming with me?’

Carly shook her head. ‘I’ll catch up with you later, Gina. I—I need some air.’

It wasn’t an excuse. The force of her emotions was making her feel dizzy. She slipped out on to the balcony, and stood leaning on the stone balustrade looking down into the garden. Lamps had been lit now among the tall shrubs, and the scent of the roses was warm and strong in the evening air. Above the bulk of the hotel building, a crescent moon hung like a slash of gold in the sapphire sky.

Carly looked up at the moon, and inclined her head to it, as the old superstition dictated.

‘Oh, moon,’ she whispered silently. ‘I wish—oh, how I wish …’

‘Good evening.’ The sound of his voice from the doorway behind her made Carly start violently. She spun to face him, the fragile wine-glass falling from her hand to shatter on the tiles at her feet.

‘Are you all right?’ Two long strides brought him to her side. ‘You haven’t cut yourself?’

‘No,’ she forced from her taut throat. ‘I—it’s just some champagne on my dress.’

‘Damnation.’ He produced an immaculate handkerchief. ‘Let me see …’

She took a step backwards. ‘I can manage—really.’

He’d followed her, and that was incredible. But it was also too soon. He’d caught her off guard. She wasn’t ready for this confrontation—and she certainly wasn’t ready to be touched by him.

‘Just as you wish.’ He sounded faintly surprised, but he passed her the handkerchief, and she dabbed at her dress, her hands shaking, sharply aware that he was watching her.

He said abruptly, ‘You’re very nervous.’

‘What do you expect? You—startled me.’

‘I shouldn’t have sneaked up on you like that.’ Saul Kingsland’s smile contained both repentance and charm. He paused. ‘But then, you knew I’d follow you—didn’t you? Isn’t that exactly what you intended?’

He certainly believed in the direct approach, Carly thought, rallying her defences.

‘You’re a free agent, Mr Kingsland.’

He shook his head. ‘Not tonight. I’m here to do a job—fulfil an obligation. I have to find a face—a body around which an entire advertising campaign can pivot. Frankly, I thought it was impossible—a gimmick foisted on me by Septimus Creed. How could I choose anyone when I didn’t know what I was looking for—what special qualities I needed?’ He broke off, the cool eyes skimming over her, missing nothing.

Carly found the intensity of his scrutiny and the continuing silence unnerving. She broke it deliberately, moving backwards, resting an elbow on the balustrade. ‘And do you know now?’

He said slowly, ‘Yes, I think I do. It’s totally incredible.’

His gaze went down the curve of her body as she lounged against the stonework, lingering on breast and thigh. It was as if he’d put out a hand and touched her intimately, and she was hard put to it not to flinch.

She thought, I don’t know if I can go through with this. But I must …

She laughed. ‘Is this your usual line, Mr Kingsland? “Put yourself in my hands, little girl, and I’ll make you famous”?’ She pulled a face. ‘A little tacky, don’t you think?’

‘Yes—if it were true.’ He sounded impatient. ‘But I assure you I’m not just shooting a line. I should know your name. Why don’t I? Who’s your agent?’

‘My name is Carly North,’ she said. ‘My agent is Clive Monroe, and if you’re not careful, I shall begin to think you mean this.’

‘Believe it,’ he said shortly. His brows drew together in a frown. ‘Or is there some problem?’

She shrugged. ‘Perhaps I’m not sure I want to be the Flawless Girl.’

‘Then what are you doing here?’

‘Natural curiosity. Normally I avoid this kind of situation like the plague.’

‘Then we have something in common at least.’ He gave her a long, speculative look. ‘So, I have to persuade you, do I?’

‘Not easy,’ she said, lightly. ‘I have a mind of my own, and my career is going well. Ask Clive.’

‘I intend to. But that doesn’t let you off the hook.’ He paused. ‘I have to stay at this thing for a while, but will you have dinner with me when it’s over?’

‘With my agent?’

‘If necessary.’

‘He’s a family man. He might not be able to make it.’

‘All the better.’

‘You don’t waste any time.’

‘Why should I? The deadlines have been drawn—quite apart from any personal considerations.’

Carly’s brows lifted. ‘You seem to be living up to your reputation.’

‘I don’t have a reputation,’ he said. ‘These days, I’m a stranger in town.’

‘Hardly,’ she said. ‘There can’t be a person in the country who hasn’t heard of you.’

‘Professionally, maybe. On other levels, they know nothing, and nor do you. So, ignore rumour and hearsay. Use your own instincts—your own judgement about me, Carly North.’

‘Perhaps my instincts are warning me to run.’

‘Then they’re playing you false,’ he said slowly. ‘Besides, if that were true, why did you want me to notice you so badly just now?’

‘Is that what I did?’ Alarm tingled on her skin.

‘You know it is. And if it wasn’t for strictly professional reasons, then it must have had a personal basis.’

She said coolly, ‘That’s a rather arrogant assumption.’

Saul Kingsland shrugged. ‘Then that could be something else we have in common.’

‘What do you mean?’

‘Isn’t it a form of arrogance to come here tonight, looking as you do, when you don’t really want the Flawless job?’

‘I didn’t say that,’ she said quickly. ‘I said I wasn’t sure.’

‘So, I’m asking again, will you have dinner with me later, and let me convince you?’

She felt as if she was being swept along, caught in a current she couldn’t control. A voice in her head was screaming at her to refuse, warning her frantically that this was all too much, too soon.

She said, ‘Very well.’ She shot him a veiled look. ‘But I’m promising nothing.’

‘Professionally?’ Saul Kingsland asked silkily. ‘Or personally?’

‘Both.’

‘Fine,’ he said equably. ‘Then we know where we stand.’ He smiled at her. ‘And now I’d better justify my presence here—mix a little—talk to some people.’ He paused. ‘Don’t run away.’

‘I gave that up,’ she said, ‘a long time ago.’

She watched him walk away, back into the lighted room. Leaving her alone.

Relief flooded through her, making her feel almost light-headed. She sagged against the balustrade, her legs trembling, staring sightlessly in front of her as her mind revolved over and over again everything that had happened, everything that had been said between them.

In the end, it had been easy. Too easy, perhaps. Certainly not what she’d expected.

What have I done? she thought, a pang of unease shivering through her. What have I started? I’ve got a tiger by the tail, and I can’t—I dare not let go.

There was no turning back, not now. And perhaps there never was.

Squaring her shoulders, she went to find Clive.

CHAPTER TWO

SAUL KINGSLAND’S CAR was long, sleek and powerful. Of course, Carly thought, her lip curling as she settled herself into the passenger seat.

Their departure from the reception together had caused something of a sensation. The atmosphere of disappointment and frustration among the other girls had been almost tangible.

‘I just hope you know what you’re doing, that’s all,’ had been Clive’s valediction.

And Marge had said softly, ‘Oh, I’m sure she does.’

I shall have to be careful with Marge, Carly thought, as Saul eased the car into the traffic. She’s altogether too shrewd.

‘Do you like Italian food?’ Saul asked. ‘Or are you on some kind of permanent diet?’

‘Good lord, no.’ She gave a slight shrug. ‘I suppose I’m lucky. I seem to burn up a lot of calories.’

‘Yes, I can believe that. You’re very cool on the surface, but underneath I suspect there’s a mass of tension.’

She bit her lip. ‘Not that I’m aware of.’ She gave him a small cool smile. ‘I’m a very uncomplicated person, actually.’

‘I’ll let you know about that,’ he said, ‘when we’re better acquainted.’

‘Comments like that make me nervous,’ she replied. ‘I like my privacy.’

‘But if we’re going to work together—achieve some kind of rapport, we can’t remain strangers.’

‘You think it’s all decided, don’t you? All sewn up.’ There was an edge to her voice.

‘I’m taking nothing for granted where you’re concerned, lady. That’s why we’re having this meal together—to see if we can establish some kind of basis to proceed from.’

‘And if we can’t?’

It was Saul’s turn to shrug. ‘Then I find another Flawless Girl from somewhere. No one’s irreplaceable, after all.’

‘Is that Public Warning Number One?’

‘You’re in the business,’ he said. ‘You know the score as well as I do.’ There was a brief silence, then, ‘Your agent really doesn’t want you to do this, does he?’

‘Clive has—reservations.’

‘But he said it was your decision.’ He sent her a sideways glance. ‘He made me wonder if you were just playing games with me—playing hard to get.’

‘Of course not. Why on earth should I?’ Her mouth was dry suddenly.

‘You tell me,’ he said laconically.

Carly was quiet for a moment. Then she said, ‘Perhaps I should put my cards on the table. I was in two minds about the Flawless assignment when I went to the reception tonight. I—I still am, come to that.’ She ran the tip of her tongue along her lower lip. ‘But you were right about one thing—I did want you to notice me, and that was even before I realised who you were.’

‘I’m flattered.’

‘And I’m ashamed,’ she returned. ‘I shocked myself this evening. I don’t usually—come on so strong.’ She forced a little laugh. ‘There—confession over.’

‘You won’t be made to do penance,’ he said. ‘I’m glad to know the attraction was mutual. Now, all we have to do is relax and enjoy the rest of the evening.’

He found a parking space, and they walked the remaining hundred yards to the restaurant’s entrance. Carly had half expected Saul to put his hand under her arm, or clasp her fingers with his as they walked along, but he made no attempt to touch her even in a casual way. In view of her recent admission, she found this restraint intriguing, but she was relieved by it too.

It wasn’t a large restaurant, and it relied heavily on the intimacy of its atmosphere. The lights were low, the tables screened from each other by trellis-work covered in climbing plants, and in one corner a lone guitarist played music which was pleasant without being obtrusive.

‘The food here used to be wonderful,’ Saul remarked, handing her a menu.

It still was. They ate stuffed courgette flowers, and scallops grilled in their shells, followed by osso buco and roast quails with polenta. To finish the meal Carly had a frothy chocolate concoction, rich with cream and liqueur, and Saul asked for cheese. The coffee was strong, black and aromatic, and served with Strega.

While they ate, the conversation had been general. Carly had encouraged Saul to talk about his life in America, and the glossy magazine scene in New York. He also told her about a book he had coming out.

‘I did a hell of a lot of travelling while I was over there,’ he said. ‘So, it’s a kind of odyssey in pictures. My tribute to everything I liked best about life Stateside. Places and people that I loved.’

His tone gave nothing away, but Carly found herself wondering how many of those people had been women.

‘It sounds—illuminating,’ she said. ‘Do you intend to go back to America?’

Saul signalled for more coffee. ‘At the moment, I’m not sure,’ he said. ‘My plans are—fluid. I need to see how things work out for me here, once the Flawless assignment is finished.’ He paused. ‘And, while we’re on the subject, have you come to any decision yet?’

Carly gasped. ‘I’ve hardly had time to think,’ she began.

‘Really?’ He gave her a straight look. ‘I had the impression several times tonight that you were so deep in thought you were a million miles away.’

She flushed a little. ‘I’m sorry if I’ve been poor company …’

‘I didn’t say that.’ He leaned forward. ‘If you’re still not sure, spend the day with me tomorrow, and I’ll take some pictures of you—convince you that way.’

Carly shook her head. ‘I can’t tomorrow. I’m going home to visit.’

‘Where is home?’

‘In the country. Very quiet and dull.’

‘With you there?’ He slanted a smile at her. ‘Impossible. Tell you what, why don’t I come with you? I was going to walk you along the Embankment and through the parks, but a rural background would be even better.’

‘I’m sorry, but it’s out of the question.’ Her flush deepened. ‘It’s going to be rather hectic—a houseful of people. My sister’s getting engaged.’

‘Not so quiet and dull, after all,’ he said.

‘It usually is. My family is—very conventional. I don’t think they altogether approve of my life in London.’

‘And what heinous sins do they think you commit? Perhaps I could reassure them.’

‘But you don’t know me,’ she said. ‘You don’t know what I’m capable of.’

‘Not at this moment,’ he said. ‘But I intend to know you, Carly North, in every way there is.’

He was smiling, but as the grey eyes met hers Carly was conscious of a curious intentness in their depths. She felt vulnerable suddenly, and afraid, as if Saul’s gaze was probing too deeply, staring straight into her mind, laying bare all her innermost secrets.

Her heart missed a beat, and her throat felt tight. She said huskily, ‘I find remarks like that—distasteful.’

‘Then I apologise.’ He didn’t sound sorry at all. ‘I’ll begin our acquaintance solely through the lens of a camera, and in no other way, I swear.’ He stretched out a hand to her across the table, and reluctantly she allowed his fingers to close round hers. ‘Will you work with me, Carly North? Will you be my Flawless Girl?’

‘I can’t tell you now. I have to think about it.’ She withdrew her hand from his grasp. ‘May I have the weekend?’

‘I won’t argue with that.’ He took a diary out of an inside pocket of his dinner-jacket, tore out a page and scribbled down a telephone number. ‘Call me on this when you’ve decided.’ He paused. ‘You say that your sister’s getting engaged. What about you, Carly? You’re not wearing any rings, but that doesn’t mean a whole lot in these liberated days. Are you attached? Are there any lovers or husbands lurking in your vicinity?’

‘There’s nobody.’

‘You astound me.’

‘It’s through my own choice.’ She despised the defensiveness in her own voice.

‘I’m sure it is.’

‘Am I allowed to ask you the same question? How many ex-wives have you left sighing over you?’

‘None at all—and no present Mrs Kingsland either.’ He was laughing openly. ‘I am entirely without encumbrances.’

Of course he was, she thought. Saul Kingsland was a rolling stone, a man who would never settle or opt for an ordered existence. He would walk into a woman’s life, take what he wanted, and walk on without a backward look. A wreaker of havoc, unknowing and uncaring. And you didn’t even have to be a woman to suffer at his hands.

Abruptly, Carly pushed back her chair. ‘I really should be going.’

‘Already? It’s still relatively early.’

‘I have to leave first thing in the morning. My mother will be needing help with the arrangements.’

‘Ah, yes,’ he said softly. ‘The devoted daughter rushing back to the bosom of the family. Oddly enough, that’s not the impression I had of you. When I saw you standing in the moonlight, I thought I’d never seen anyone look so solitary—so used to being alone. It just shows how wrong one can be.’

‘First impressions are often misleading.’ She made her voice deliberately dismissive. ‘Would you ask someone to find me a cab, please?’

Saul looked at her in surprise. ‘There’s no need for that. I’ll drive you home.’

‘I—I don’t want to take you out of your way.’

‘That’s very thoughtful of you.’ His smile was sardonic. ‘How do you know that you will be?’

‘I—don’t, actually.’

‘Then there’s no more to be said,’ he told her, indicating to the head waiter that he required the bill.

Carly bit her lip, trying to hide her annoyance.

‘Do you never take “no” for an answer?’ she enquired acidly, when they were in the car, and he was following her reluctantly given instructions.

‘It depends on how positive the “no” is,’ he said. ‘In your case it was just a ploy to prevent me knowing where you lived for some reason, and a useless ploy at that.’

‘Why do you say that?’

‘Because there are plenty of ways of finding your address if I were sufficiently desperate,’ he said. ‘There’s the phone book, for starters.’ He slanted a frowning look at her. ‘So, for goodness’ sake calm down, and stop being so damned uptight,’ he went on. ‘There’s nothing to be scared of. You have my word on that. I’m not going to pressure you, or make a nuisance of myself by camping on your doorstep. Perhaps events have moved rather too fast tonight, but from now on we’ll take things just as easily as you wish.’

‘Thank you.’ Her hands gripped tautly together in her lap.

‘I learned some relaxation techniques in the States.’ He didn’t miss a thing. He added, with a smile in his voice, ‘If you asked me nicely, I might be prepared to teach them to you.’

‘I’ll bear it in mind.’ She made herself speak lightly. She’d let him think she’d been instantly attracted to him, for heaven’s sake. Now she was treating him as if he was some plague carrier. ‘Actually, you’re quite right. This evening has been—totally outside my experience. I’m in a state of complete confusion.’

‘I’m still in shock myself,’ Saul said drily. ‘Perhaps the weekend will help us get our heads together.’

The remainder of the journey was completed in silence, to Carly’s relief.

Saul stopped the car, and glanced up at the block of flats. ‘Very nice,’ he commented. ‘Your career really is doing well.’ He paused. ‘Do you live by yourself?’

She shook her head. ‘I share with another girl. She works for a television company.’

‘Is she there at the moment?’

‘No,’ Carly said, before she could stop herself. ‘She’s abroad with a film crew.’

‘Then I’ll go up with you,’ he said.

She looked at him in total dismay, and his mouth tightened.

‘And not for the reasons you seem to think,’ he added bitingly. ‘My motives are actually quite chivalrous. I want to make sure you get home safely.’

‘Don’t you feel you’re being rather over-protective?’

‘No, I don’t. I took a girl home from a party in New York over a year ago. She was independent, too, and insisted on saying goodnight on the pavement. When she got up to her apartment, someone had broken in, and she was attacked and badly injured. If I’d insisted on escorting her to the door, it might not have happened. I’m not taking the risk again.’

‘In case you hadn’t noticed, this is London, not New York.’

‘Just a different part of the jungle, lady.’ He walked up the steps beside her, and opened the swing doors.

She stood beside him in the lift in resentful silence. Walked along the passage to the door, still without speaking.

“May I have your key?’ Saul held out his hand.

‘Oh, this is silly,’ Carly burst out in exasperation as she gave it to him. ‘Just how many times do you think I’ve come back here alone at night? Lucy’s away a lot.’

‘That was in the bad old days.’ He unlocked the door, and pushed it open. ‘Now you don’t have to be alone any more, unless you want to be.’

Carly lifted her chin. ‘Is that a hint that you want to stay for more coffee—or a nightcap—or whatever the current euphemism is? How very obvious.’

‘No,’ he said calmly. ‘It’s more a declaration of intent.’

He was standing very close to her. She could actually feel the warmth of his body. Suddenly Carly found it difficult to breathe. Any moment now, she thought wildly, and he would reach out for her, take her in his arms, and she was terrified. She felt as if she was balanced on a knife-edge, every nerve-ending tingling in alarm and anticipation.

Kiss me, she thought, her heart beating violently against her ribcage. Kiss me and get it over with.

As he moved, her eyelids fluttered down, and her lips parted in a little unconscious sigh. Her whole body tensed, waiting to feel his hands on her, his mouth against hers.

He said quietly, ‘Goodnight, Flawless Girl. Call me after the weekend, and let me know what you’ve decided.’

The door closed softly, and he was gone.

Carly’s eyes flew open, and she stood rigid for a long moment, staring at the enigmatic wooden panels; then, with a small sob, she hurled herself forward, putting up the chain and securing the interior bolt with hands that shook.

She’d been so sure that, in spite of her protestations, he would offer at least a token pass. Now, paradoxically, she felt that he’d made a fool of her.

And that’s ridiculous, she thought. Because Saul Kingsland is the one who’s been fooled. I’ve done it. I’ve succeeded. I’ve won.

She laughed out loud, and the sound echoed eerily in the quiet flat.

She walked into her bedroom, shedding her few clothes as she went, and straight into the bathroom which separated her room from Lucy’s, stepping into the shower, and turning the warm spray full on. She stood motionless, letting the water pour over her, soaking her hair, and running in rivulets down her skin.

Washing Saul Kingsland away.

But only for the time being, she reminded herself with a sharp stab of excitement as she reluctantly turned off the water, and stepped back on to the thick mat, reaching for a towel.

On Monday, she would make that call, and after that—she drew a breath. After that, whatever would be, would be.

As she turned, she caught a glimpse of herself in the mirror, and almost recoiled. It was like seeing a stranger, or her own bad angel, eyes glittering with malevolence, bright, febrile colour along her cheekbones, the soft mouth starkly compressed.

Revenge might be sweet, but, dear heaven, what would it cost her in human terms?

The image in the mirror blurred suddenly and, bending her head, Carly began to weep—for the girl she’d been, and for the woman she’d become.

The sun was pouring into the bedroom the next morning, as she packed a weekend bag with her usual economy. The dress she had bought specially to wear for the party was already waiting in its protective cover, and she grimaced slightly as she lifted it down and carried it out to her car.

A greater contrast to the dress she’d worn the previous night could not be imagined, she thought wryly. But then, she hardly looked the same girl at all. She was simply and casually dressed in tailored cream linen trousers with a matching jacket over a short-sleeved khaki T-shirt. Her hair was gathered into a single plait, and allowed to hang over one shoulder, and her face was innocent of all cosmetics but a touch of moisturiser.

As she loaded the car, she couldn’t resist a furtive look round. In spite of his assurances, Saul Kingsland might be there watching her, perhaps from one of the row of parked cars across the street.

Oh, stop it, she adjured herself impatiently. That’s the way to paranoia.

Traffic was heavy, and getting out of London required all her concentration. She couldn’t relax until trees and fields began to replace suburban sprawl. She lowered the window a little, to enjoy the sunlit breeze, and put a cassette of Vivaldi’s Four Seasons into the tape machine, then sat back to savour the remainder of her journey.

An hour later, she turned the car into the gravelled sweep of the drive and saw the familiar red-brick Georgian bulk of the house awaiting her. She drove round to the rear, and parked in the former stables, slotting her Polo in between her father’s Bentley and the sedate estate car her mother preferred.

She sat for a moment, staring in front of her, then, with a smothered sigh, collected her things, and walked down the covered way to the side entrance.

There was a lot of activity already, she saw. A large marquee had been erected on the lawn, and folding tables and chairs were being carried into it. As she watched, a florist’s van drew up in front of the house, and two women dressed in pink overalls got out. Presently, no doubt, the caterers’ vehicles would also be arriving.

Mother will be in her element, Carly thought, her mouth twisting. She’ll be able to use it as a trial run for Susan’s actual wedding. And I’m about as necessary in all this as an extra thumb.

She caught a movement in the large conservatory which flanked the lawn and, smiling a little, trod quietly across the gravel and stood in the doorway watching the tall, grey-haired man who was deftly repotting some plants.

‘Hello, Father.’

He turned with an obvious start, and peered at her. ‘Why, Caroline,’ he said, ‘so you’ve come. Your mother wasn’t sure … Well, this is splendid—splendid.’ He paused, then added another vague, ‘Splendid.’

Carly bit her lip. ‘I did say I was coming,’ she said, quietly. ‘If I’m not expected—if my room’s being used, I can always try the pub.’

‘Certainly not. I’m sure your room’s ready and waiting for you, my dear, although, of course, your mother always handles those arrangements. She’s in the drawing-room, having coffee with your Aunt Grace. I said I’d join them once I’d finished this and washed my hands, but now …’ His voice tailed off expectantly.

‘But now that I’ve arrived, it will let you off the hook,’ Carly supplied drily.

‘Well, all this talk about engagements and weddings,’ he said. ‘Not my sort of thing at all, you know. They’ll start on christenings next, I dare say,’ he added with disfavour.

‘I can imagine.’ Carly slanted a smile at him. ‘Stay with your beloved plants, Dad. I’ll try and ensure you’re not missed.’

As she entered the hall, she could hear Aunt Grace’s authoritative tones issuing from the drawing-room. She pulled a small face. Her mother’s older sister held strong views on everything, from the government in power down to the deplorable attitude of today’s shop assistants. Since her only daughter’s marriage and departure for New Zealand a few years previously, she had lived in Bournemouth, which she rarely left. Carly couldn’t help wishing that she had not decided to make an exception to this excellent rule for Susan’s engagement party.

She resolutely pinned on a smile as she went into the drawing-room. ‘Hello, Mummy, Aunt Grace. How are you both?’

There was an immediate surprised silence. Carly was aware of both pairs of eyes riveted on her, taking in every detail of her appearance. She put down her case, and draped her dress-carrier over the back of a chair.

‘Is that coffee? I’d love some.’

‘Of course, dear.’ Mrs Foxcroft filled the third cup waiting on the tray and proffered it to her younger daughter. ‘Did you have a good drive down?’

‘Marvellous, thank you.’ Carly bent and kissed her mother’s cheek, and, more fleetingly, her aunt’s. ‘You’re both looking very well.’

Her mother smiled awkwardly. ‘And so are you, darling. Positively—radiant. Isn’t she, Grace?’

‘Hm,’ said Mrs Brotherton. ‘Try as I may, Veronica, I still cannot accustom myself … However,’ she turned to Carly, ‘I saw a photograph of you in a magazine at my hairdressers’ last month, Caroline. You were wearing an extraordinary garment in white taffeta, and seemed to be standing in an area of slum clearance.’

‘Oh, the Fabioni. I remember it well.’ Carly laughed. ‘It was incredibly cold that day—the middle of winter, in fact—and we were down by the river. Did you manage to count my goose-pimples?’

‘I find it very odd,’ said Aunt Grace majestically, ‘that a reputable journal should find it necessary to photograph an evening dress outdoors in broad daylight, and inclement weather.’

‘It’s because of publishing schedules,’ Carly told her. ‘Fur coats in August, and bikinis in December. The bane of a model’s life.’ She looked at her mother. ‘Where’s Susan? Resting for the big occasion?’

‘She’s gone with Anthony to look at the house his father is giving them as a wedding present. Apparently it needs a great deal doing to it, and work will have to start almost at once if it’s to be ready for them to move into after the wedding.’

‘Have they set a date yet?’ Carly asked casually. ‘I’ll need to know fairly well in advance.’

‘I believe they’re thinking of October,’ her mother returned. ‘I know Susan wants to talk to you about it,’ she added, after a pause.

‘Oh, good.’ Carly drank some of her coffee, feeling another silence about to press down on them all. She decided to prevent it. ‘How are James and Louise?’ she asked her aunt.

‘They seem happily settled. The farm is not too isolated, fortunately, so Louise can get into the nearby town for shopping, and other essentials. She is expecting another baby in July.’

‘So soon?’ That made three in just over five years, Carly thought, blinking. ‘Maybe Louise should consider spending even more time in town,’ she joked feebly.

‘Caroline, dear,’ her mother said repressively, while Aunt Grace looked more forbidding than ever.

‘I’m sorry.’ Carly drained her cup, and rose to her feet. ‘I’ll go and unpack. Am I in my old room?’

‘Well, actually, dear, I was wondering if you’d mind using the nursery—just this once, of course. Jean and Arthur Lewis found they could come, after all, and as it’s such a long way for them to travel I did offer …’

‘… my room to them.’ Carly completed the hesitant sentence. ‘Of course they must have it. They’re such old friends, after all. I quite understand. Well—I’ll see you both later.’ She paused at the door. ‘If there’s anything I can do to help, you only have to ask.’

‘That’s very sweet of you, dear, but everything’s under control.’

‘Yes,’ Carly said gently, ‘I’m sure it is.’

Susan’s engagement to Anthony Farrar, the son of a local landowner, had been hoped for and planned for over a very long period, she thought with irony as she climbed the broad sweep of stairs. Susan had first met Anthony at a hunt ball when she was eighteen, and had made up her mind there and then to marry him. Everything that had happened since had been like a long and fraught military campaign, with triumphs and reverses in almost equal proportions.

Carly herself had wondered more than once if Anthony was worth all this agonising over. He was attractive enough in a fair-haired, typically English way—certainly better-looking than either of his sisters, she allowed judiciously—but she’d always found him humourless, and suspected as well that he might share his father’s notoriously roving eye.

But Susan clearly regarded her engagement as a major victory, Carly thought wryly, as she went up the second flight of stairs to the old nursery quarters. So, heaven forbid that she should be a dissenting voice amid the jubilation.

Not that Sue would listen if I was, she thought with a sigh, as she opened the nursery door.

It was hardly recognisable as the room she and her sister had once shared. All the old furniture had gone, and so had the toys—the doll’s house, the rocking-horse, and the farmyard animals. It was now, very obviously, a very spare bedroom, she thought, dumping her case down on the narrow single bed, furnished with unwanted odds and ends from the rest of the house. Only the white-painted bars across the windows revealed its original purpose.

She opened her case and put the few items it contained into the chest of drawers.

The photograph, as always, was at the bottom of the case. She extracted it, and placed it carefully on the dressing-chest next to the mirror.

She stood for a long moment, staring at it. The child’s face looked back at her, its eager brightness diminished by the heavy glasses, and the protruding front teeth that the shy smile revealed.

Slowly, her hands curled into taut fists at her sides, and as gradually relaxed again.

An object lesson in how not to look.

And one, she thought, that she would never forget.

CHAPTER THREE

CARLY ADJUSTED THE neckline of her dress, and gave it a long, disparaging look. As a garment, she supposed it was adequate. The material was good—a fine, silky crêpe—and it had been competently put together. But the Puritan grey did nothing for her, and with her hair twisted up into a smooth topknot she looked bland and unobtrusive, like a Victorian governess.

But that, of course, was precisely her intention.

It had been a long afternoon. She’d made another diffident offer of help downstairs which had been kindly but firmly refused. Instead she’d found herself being subjected to an exhaustive commentary on the problems of sheep farming in New Zealand by Aunt Grace.

In the end she’d taken refuge in a sunny corner of the garden, so far untouched by the demands of the party, with an armful of books from her childhood which she’d rescued from the attic. It had been wonderful to discover that The House at Pooh Corner had lost none of its old magic and step once more into Tom’s Midnight Garden. She found a new serenity burgeoning within her as she relaxed with them.

Over tea in the drawing-room she’d looked at the multitude of snapshots Aunt Grace had triumphantly produced of James, Louise and the children, and said all the right things. Or she hoped she had.

James looked flourishing, tanned and handsome. The kind of man who’d be an achiever whatever he set his hand to. But Louise, she thought privately, looked weary, her radiant blonde prettiness muted somehow, as if the everyday demands of babies and farming were becoming too much for her.

But then Louise had always enjoyed the urban life—London with its buzz, its theatres and parties. For her, the country had been somewhere to spend the occasional weekend. Strange then that she should have married James, and accepted the radical change of life-style he was offering, rather than one of his wealthy and sophisticated friends.

Of course, Louise might consider that the world she was used to was well lost for love, but Carly didn’t think so. Not on the evidence of these photographs, anyway.

As soon as she could, she escaped upstairs again, and had a lingering, scented bath, mindful of her mother’s adjuration to vacate the bathroom in good time, ready for Susan’s use.

‘It is her night, after all, dear.’

Carly felt that the reminder was unnecessary. She was conscious too of a nagging disappointment that Susan’s house-viewing trip was taking so long. It had been ages since she’d seen her sister—talked to her. In fact, it was Christmas, she realised. Each time she’d been home briefly since, Susan had been preoccupied with Anthony.

She took one last look at herself, and turned away from the mirror, glancing at her watch. Well, Sue was bound to have returned by now. She could go down to her room and chat to her while she got ready, as they’d done when they were younger.

She went down the short flight of stairs, and walked along the passage. As she lifted a hand to tap at the door, it occurred to her that once she would simply have barged cheerfully in.

‘Come in,’ Sue called, and Carly turned the handle and walked into the room.

Sue swung round on her dressing-stool. ‘Oh, it’s you.’ Her smile was perfunctory. ‘How are you, Caro?’

‘I’m fine.’ Carly deposited herself on the bed. ‘You don’t mind if I stay—talk to you while you dress?’

Sue shrugged. ‘If you want. But I don’t have a lot of time to spare. I stayed longer than I should have done with Anthony’s mother, talking about the wedding.’

‘Oh.’ Carly hesitated for a moment. ‘Would you like me to do your make-up for you?’

‘No, thank you.’ Sue’s voice had an edge to it. ‘I may not have the professional touch, but I’ve managed adequately up to now. Besides, Anthony prefers me to look natural.’

Carly felt herself flush. ‘I—wasn’t criticising. I thought it might relax you.’

‘I’m perfectly relaxed,’ Sue said shortly, reaching for the moisturiser.

Carly bit her lip. ‘I can always go away, if you prefer.’

‘No, you may as well stay. I’ve been wanting to talk to you anyway about arrangements for the wedding.’ She fidgeted for a moment with the lid of the jar, then burst out, ‘Caro, would you mind awfully if you weren’t a bridesmaid?’

Carly stared at her, feeling as if she’d been pole-axed. She said slowly, ‘Not a bridesmaid? But Sue, we promised each other ever since we were little … Of course I’d mind.’

‘Yes, I know that.’ Sue’s tone was impatient, dismissive. ‘But things change—circumstances alter. And I’ve decided to have just Anthony’s sisters instead. They’re both shorter than you, and blonde. It would be practically impossible to find a colour you all could wear, and next to them you’d look like a giraffe anyway.’

‘I—see.’ Hurt and disappointment were warring inside Carly with a growing anger. ‘It didn’t occur to you to have me alone?’

‘No, it didn’t, frankly.’

‘Even though I’m your only sister?’

Bright spots of colour burned in Sue’s cheeks. ‘Listen,’ she said, ‘whether you like it or not, I only intend to get married once, and it’s going to be my big day, from beginning to end. I’m not prepared to be—outshone by anyone. I want them all to be looking at me as I walk up the aisle, not at whoever’s following me.’

‘You think I wouldn’t take a back seat—that I’d push for attention?’ Carly spread her hands. ‘Sue, I wouldn’t—I swear it.’

‘You couldn’t help it. If you walked around with a bag over your head, people would still look at you. It’s the way you hold yourself—the way you move—everything.’ Sue slammed down the jar. ‘Anyway, there’s no use in arguing about it. My mind’s made up. I’ve already spoken to Tess and Sarah.’ She paused. ‘And Lady Farrar’s delighted,’ she added deliberately.

‘Oh, I understand,’ Carly said stormily. ‘This is all to do with last New Year’s Eve, and the fact that your future father-in-law can’t keep his hands to himself. I suspected I hadn’t heard the last of that, even though it wasn’t my fault, and you know it.’

Sue shrugged again. ‘Nevertheless,’ she retorted, ‘you can hardly expect to be her favourite person.’

‘You’re quite sure you even want to invite me to the wedding?’

Sue’s hesitation was just a fraction too long. ‘Don’t be silly.’

‘I’m not.’ Carly rose. ‘I think I’m just beginning to see sense.’ She gave Sue a long, level look. ‘I’m really not wanted here, am I? I’m aware of it more and more each time I come home—that I’m an outsider.’

‘Not an outsider,’ Sue said angrily. ‘A complete stranger—in every way. What do you think it’s been like for Mother and Father—for me, listening to people talking about you—about the change in you? Seeing your picture in magazines—on television—all over the place? You know how they’ve always hated any kind of gossip or notoriety. How they’ve valued their privacy—their quiet family life. Well, you’ve ruined that. You’ve become spectacular, Caro, a media person. But you’re not going to spoil my wedding. I want it to be a dignified occasion, not a field-day for a lot of camera-happy idiots.’

‘Don’t worry about that,’ Carly said with supreme bitterness. ‘I promise to be somewhere on the other side of the world when that happy dawn breaks. Just let me know what you want as a present, apart from my absence, that is.’

It took all the control she was capable of not to slam the door as she left. She was trembling violently as she walked back to the nursery. She lifted her hands, and began to unfasten her hair, shaking it free on her shoulders in a scented mahogany cloud, scattering the pins piecemeal on the carpet uncaringly.

She knew all about her parents’ shock and resentment over her choice of career, and the means she’d chosen to achieve it. That was why she’d tried so hard, each time she returned home, to revert to being plain Caroline Foxcroft in the subordinate role of younger daughter. She thought she’d succeeded on the whole. But clearly she’d made a terrible mistake.

The incident at the New Year party when Sir Giles Farrar, flushed with whisky, had cornered her in the hall, thinking he was unobserved, had been embarrassing, but basically trivial. A more tolerant woman than Lady Farrar would have laughed it off.

Sue would make her the perfect daughter-in-law, she thought, anger stirring within her.

She collected her things, ramming them into her bag with swift, jerky movements. She kept on the grey dress. She could change when she got back to the flat. She didn’t want to remain here a minute longer than necessary.

As she carried the case downstairs to the hall, her mother appeared in the drawing-room doorway, Aunt Grace inevitably behind her.

‘Caroline?’ She stared at the case, raising her brows. ‘What are you doing?’

‘Leaving,’ Carly said briefly. ‘Isn’t that what everyone wants?’

‘Of course not.’

‘Well, it’s certainly what Susan would prefer.’

‘But you can’t go,’ her mother almost wailed. ‘The first guests will be arriving soon. Everyone will think it’s so odd.’

Carly shrugged. ‘They may also find it relatively eccentric that my own sister doesn’t want me as her bridesmaid,’ she retorted, her voice brittle.

Mrs Foxcroft sighed. ‘So Susan told you. Oh, dear, I rather hoped she’d wait. I knew you’d be upset.’

‘That,’ Carly said, ‘is putting it mildly. Mother, I can’t stay for the party, as if nothing had happened. You must see that.’

‘Your mother sees nothing of the kind,’ said Aunt Grace. ‘You’re spoiled, Caroline. Spoiled, and selfish. You can hardly wonder that Susan doesn’t want you as an attendant. No one’s forgotten your behaviour at Louise’s wedding.’ She snorted. ‘Claiming you had a virus only hours before the ceremony—insisting on being taken home, without a thought for anyone but yourself. The balance of the bridal procession was completely destroyed, and it was all your fault. You should have taken an aspirin, and played your part.’

Carly threw back her head. ‘Don’t tell me I was missed,’ she said. ‘Louise only asked me because she felt obliged to. It must have been a relief to her not to have me trailing behind her, the ugly duckling among the swans.’

‘You were certainly not a prepossessing child,’ Aunt Grace said. ‘But you’ve definitely taken drastic steps to remedy the situation since then,’ she added disapprovingly. ‘I, of course, have never agreed with tampering with nature. And poor Susan must feel it badly, having always been the pretty one.’

‘All the more reason for me to go back to London.’

‘But everyone will be expecting to see you.’ Mrs Foxcroft sounded distracted. ‘They’ll be asking where you are.’

Carly turned towards the front door. ‘Tell them I have another virus,’ she flung over her shoulder. ‘Or, better still, make it an infectious disease.’

She was still shaking as she drove back along the lanes towards the main road. A tractor pulled out of a gateway ahead of her, and she had to brake sharply to avoid it. She pulled the car over on to the verge, and sat for a few minutes, her arms folded across the steering wheel, and her forehead resting on them, waiting for her heartbeat to steady, trying to regain her equilibrium.

It was stupid to drive when she was so upset, so on edge. She couldn’t risk an accident now. It would ruin everything. She had to keep her hard-won beauty intact—flawless.

For Saul Kingsland.

At the thought of him, her whole body tensed uncontrollably.

During those innocent sunlit hours in the garden, prompted by the nostalgic memories of the child she’d been, she’d almost begun to have second thoughts about taking the Flawless assignment. But the confrontation with Susan had hardened her resolve to granite. She still could hardly believe that it had happened, that the girl with whom she’d grown up could resent her so deeply. When they’d been children, they’d been so close, the four-year difference in their ages seeming immaterial.

Sue let me tag around after her everywhere, Carly thought. And I was so proud that she was my big sister. I never minded when people said how lovely she was. I never cared about the comparisons they drew when they looked at us, side by side.

Her throat constricted painfully. But perhaps Susan had enjoyed the contrast, she thought. Even—needed it, to reassure herself about her own looks and popularity. Mirror, mirror on the wall … In those days, there’d never been any doubt as to what the mirror would answer.

But then had come Louise’s wedding—shattering her—turning everything upside-down. And in its aftermath her whole life had changed—totally and irrevocably.

And with that change had come first bewilderment, then awkwardness and withdrawal, and now, finally, estrangement from her family.

Saul Kingsland, she thought. Saul Kingsland, you have so much to pay for. And I’m going to extract every last penny. Starting now.

The flat seemed emptier than usual as she let herself in. She tossed the case into her room, and went straight to the kitchen. The fridge-freezer held a selection of packet meals which could be microwaved. She chose the first that came to hand, and slid it into the oven.

She filled the coffee percolator, and switched it on. Assembled crockery and cutlery.

Then she went to the telephone. She didn’t have to look up the number. She already knew it by heart. She dialled, and waited.

‘This is Saul Kingsland.’ He sounded, disturbingly, as if he was there in the room with her. ‘I’m sorry I can’t talk to you in person right now, but if you’d like to leave a message after the tone, I’ll get back to you as soon as possible.’

‘It’s Carly North. If you still want to take some pictures of me, I’m free tomorrow.’ She put down the receiver.

That’s that, she thought, and went back to the microwave and her instant meal. By the time she’d eaten it, the small kitchen was filled with the aroma of coffee. She poured herself a cup and took it through to the bedroom.

She peeled off the grey dress, and let it fall to the floor. On Monday, she decided, she would take it to a nearly-new shop. Certainly, she never wanted to see it again. She dropped bra, briefs, tights and slip into a linen basket and put on her dressing-gown. Its almost tailored style, with padded shoulders and deep revers, slashed to reveal the cleft between her small, high breasts, was in stark contrast to the sinuous peach satin it was made from. It was the most expensive robe she’d ever bought, but the colour warmed her skin, and acted as a magnificent foil to the tumble of her hair.

Barefoot, she wandered back into the sitting-room and switched on the television set. I don’t want anything significant, she told it silently. I just want some mindless entertainment—to prevent me from thinking. Because if I start rehashing everything that’s happened I shall cry, and I don’t want to give way to that kind of weakness.

A film was beginning—a classic thriller which she’d seen many times before—and she subsided into it gratefully, sitting curled up on the sofa, her hands clasped round the warmth of her cup.

It was ridiculous, because it was a beautiful night in early summer, but she still felt chilled to the bone. Perhaps in a minute she would switch on the electric fire.

The sound of the front door buzzer brought her head round sharply. All her circle of friends thought she was at home, enjoying herself at Susan’s party.