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perfect.’
    â€˜Donwell?’ Adam repeated, in that blank way that guys have when faced with a new idea that they haven’t had three hours to process. ‘How do you mean, Donwell?’
    Ten minutes later, having extolled the virtues of croquet on the lawn, easy access to the club scene in Brighton, clay pigeon shooting up the road and a huge party on The Day, Emma had them both convinced.
    â€˜But a place like that’ll be booked solid,’ Adam groaned. ‘His birthday’s only three weeks away.’
    â€˜I have contacts,’ Emma assured him, not wanting to let on that the place was half empty and she wasn’t actually pulling strings. ‘Just leave it with me. I’ll get back to you after the weekend. You email Freddie and let him know I’m on the case.’

CHAPTER 3
Secret scheme:
Finding a friend a love life without lobsters
    â€˜I WAS WONDERING,’ HARRIET SAID THE FOLLOWING DAY , ‘could we just pop into the Sea Life Centre? You could meet Rob.’
    Emma was about to say that, after three hours of shopping in Brighton in an attempt to give Harriet a new image on a minimal budget, she was more inclined to slump down in Café Caprice with a large latte and a chocolate brownie than endure the subterranean world of electric eels and basking sharks; but she was well aware that, despite all her instructions, Harriet wouldn’t relax until she’d seen Rob; and, having spent ages on the telephone that morning convincing George that Harriet was an absolute find, far more hardworking than Lucy and he was lucky to get her, she felt she had to do all she could to ensure that her friend arrived at Donwell in a calm and serene frame of mind. There was a first time for everything.
    Besides, she felt she owed it to Harriet – she was still smarting from the conversation that had taken place inthe middle of High Wire, the funky new designer boutique in Regent Arcade. Harriet had proved to be surprisingly quick to learn how to choose outfits, matching and contrasting colours and finding accessories. Which made it all the more surprising that her clothes were so, well, ordinary.
    â€˜So go on, try them on!’ Emma had urged.
    â€˜Get real,’ Harriet had said calmly. ‘No way could I afford this lot. What I do is find what I like and then hunt through the market and the charity shops for lookalikes.’
    Emma had managed to hide her inclination to shudder. The thought of wearing clothes that other people had perspired in was beyond her wildest comprehension.
    â€˜OK, so just get one outfit,’ Emma had encouraged her, grabbing a selection of clothes. ‘See, this lot would be under a hundred pounds.’
    Harriet had stared at her. ‘You don’t get it, do you?’ she had said, shaking her head. ‘I don’t have anywhere near that kind of money. Not any more.’
    It was that last phrase that did it for Emma. That anyone should be made to go without the latest fashion, just because her father was a total waster, was just not on.
    â€˜OK,’ she had said, linking her arm through Harriet’s. ‘Tell you what – I’ll buy these for you. Call it an early birthday pressie.’
    â€˜No! My birthday’s not till November and besides, I couldn’t – I mean, no way – you hardly know me . . . that amount of money . . .’
    â€˜And what’s more,’ Emma had gone on, ‘when we get to my place, we’ll go through my wardrobe. I’ve loads of stuff I don’t wear and even though you are a bit bigger than me . . .’
    â€˜Like two sizes!’
    â€˜. . . I’m sure we can find some stuff,’ Emma had concluded, even though she wasn’t sure at all. It just made her feel good to try.
    â€˜But I can’t pay you back . . . I don’t know what to say . . .’
    â€˜So don’t say a thing!’ Emma had declared, tossing her charge card at the