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on the glass with both fists until it suddenly disintegrated, parting in front of her, then flowing round her like thick mist.
    She began searching through the mist for Jeremy, hands outstretched, crying out his name, and at last felt her wrists taken. Gripped tightly.
    But when she looked up, peering through the stifling grey miasma, she saw that the man who held her was not Jeremy, but Declan Malone, his eyes glittering like ice.
    'Oh, God.' Olivia sat bolt-upright, her heart hammering. For a moment she was totally disorientated, then she saw the sun pouring through a gap in the green curtains and realised she'd been dreaming.
    A glance at her alarm clock confirmed that she'd slept late too.
    Her head felt heavy and her eyes were full of sand, so that it would have been very easy to lie back and sleep again. Fatally easy.
    'Just asking for more nightmares,' she muttered, pushing back the quilt and swinging her feet to the floor. 'And who needs them?
    She set coffee to brew, and poured orange juice into a glass, then went to shower and dress.
    By the time she'd drunk her coffee, and eaten two slices of toast and marmalade, she was beginning to feel marginally human again.
    She washed her few dishes, then tidied the bed into a sofa again, tucking the bedding away inside as Sasha had shown her.
    And now, she thought, I have the rest of the day in front of me. What shall I do with it?
    Not that she could do very much, she reminded herself. She needed to stay round the flat so that Jeremy could contact her there. But she could at least walk to the Gate and get the Sunday papers. Fill the time that way, because, a small, sober voice in her head suggested, she could be in for a long wait.
    If she'd thought the streets would be quieter on Sunday, she soon discovered her mistake. But there was a different, more relaxed atmosphere.
    Olivia found a seat at a pavement table outside a caf é , and ordered herself a cappuccino while she settled down for a leisurely bout of people-watching.
    It was something she normally enjoyed, but somehow, today, it only seemed to deepen her sense of isolation. There were too many couples, strolling hand in hand in the sunshine, smiling into each other's eyes.
    Eventually, she left her coffee unfinished, and walked quietly back to her basement.
    I won't always feel like this, she promised herself. I won't always feel an outsider. One day—soon—I'll be walking with Jeremy, and someone will be watching me— envying me. One day…
    She tried to visualise it. Fix the image in her mind like a lodestar. But instead, incomprehensibly, she found herself remembering the restaurant last night, and Declan Malone smiling at his companion. And herself outside. Looking in.
    For a moment she felt totally frozen, all the muscles in her throat tightening suddenly, as if she was going to cry.
    Then her hands clenched fiercely into fists at her side.
    Oh, for heaven's sake, she thought in self-derision. Pull yourself together.
    She made herself an omelette for lunch, and afterwards, when she'd cleared away, she put some music on, and stretched out on the sofa with the crossword.
    She'd barely started when there was a knock at the door, and Sasha called, 'Olivia, may I come in, darling?'
    Today, the caftan was emerald-green, and she was carrying Humph tucked under her arm.
    'It all looks very nice.' She cast an appraising glance around her. 'Does it feel like home? Not yet, I dare say.'
    She seated herself in a swirl on one of the dining chairs. Humph wriggled to get down, then trotted over to the sofa and jumped up beside Olivia, circling twice on his chosen cushion, then settling down with a sigh.
    'Ah,' Sasha said with satisfaction. 'You've been given official approval. Isn't that nice?'
    Olivia was bound to agree as she stroked the silky golden-brown fur, and found herself observed by a bright dark eye.
    'But what I really came for, darling, is this.' Sasha laid a large iron key on the table. 'Now that you're a