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going to take the most amazing interest in
    every aspect of its dealings.' She giggled. 'This party is only
    the start.' Jason smiled at her. 'It should be a truly memorable
    evening for us all,' he said. His tone was light, but over
    Celia's blonde head, he looked at Laura, and his eyes were bleak
    with a warning it was impossible to ignore. She walked to the
    door, and left them alone together.

CHAPTER THREE
    SHE found she was still clutching the lipstick. She
    unclenched her hand, and put the little tube down on the dressing
    table in her room. It had left marks on her hand where she'd been
    gripping it, and she touched them almost wonderingly. She sank
    down on the stool, and stared at her pale reflection in the
    mirror. It was true, she thought. She was like a shadow—like
    the moon to Celia's golden, confident sun. It had been the same
    all their lives—even at school. Celia had been 'the pretty one'
    and she'd been 'the quiet one' which she supposed was a kind way
    of saying 'the plain one'. She supposed her parents had thought
    her beautiful. But since then—only one other person . . . She
    bit into the softness of her lower lip, relishing the pain, if
    only it would help to quell the deeper pain inside her. A l l
    this time, she thought, she'd been struggling to put her fife
    back together again, to reconcile herself to the fact that Jason
    would never be part of it again. All this time and, it seemed all
    for nothing. Divorce was like surgery, she thought wearily. And
    while the operation had been a complete success, the patient,
    apparently, had not recovered. She gave a swift shiver, and stood
    up determinedly. What a triumph for Jason if he could only know
    how completely she'd been thrown by his sudden reappearance and
    its implications. But he must never know, she told herself. He'd
    said their paths were bound to cross, but that was not
    necessarily so. They could operate on parallel lines, and never
    meet.
    In the meantime, she could get out of this drinks party Celia had
    arranged, by 'phoning Alan and asking if they could meet in
    Burngate. He would be disappointed, she supposed, as she went
    over to her wardrobe and scanned along the hanging rail for
    something to wear, but under the circumstances that couldn't be
    helped. None of the garments hanging there were particularly
    spectacular, she thought with a little mental shrug. They were
    what Celia disparagingly called 'background clothes', neutral in
    colour and design—part of her recovery camouflage. Yet now she
    was conscious of a vague dissatisfaction as she selected a silky
    grey crepe, with full sleeves and a deeply slashed crossover
    bodice, and draped it across a chair while she went into her tiny
    adjoining bathroom to shower and wash her hair. Usually, she
    blow-dried her hair, then used a hot brush to curve the ends
    underneath, and around her face, but as she hadn't managed the
    trim she needed, she decided she would wear her hair up for a
    change. She was experimenting, twisting the silky strands into
    various styles, when she heard sounds of departure from
    downstairs, and a car engine starting up in the drive. She rose,
    and trod barefoot across the carpet to her window and looked out
    from the shelter of the curtain. Inevitably, he was driving the
    Jaguar which had occupied her space in the car park. If she'd
    decided to park in the drive, instead of taking the car round to
    the garages at the back, she would have seen it, recognised
    it—maybe even been warned. She watched him drive away towards
    the town, then turned back to her dressing table with a little
    sigh. He would be back. It occurred to her that she ought to warn
    Mrs. Fraser that she wouldn't be there for dinner. She didn't
    want to add a charge of thoughtlessness to the crime sheet
    against her. And she could 'phone Alan at the same time. The
    first errand was simple enough, but the second was more tricky.
    The 'phone rang and rang, but there