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her head with a little grimace, 'Well, take the Percy one. It doesn't have to go back for a fortnight, and if you keep it longer than that, you pay the fine. Is it a deal?'
    Alix laughed. 'Yes, it's a deal.' She stood up. 'Thank you for letting me talk it all out. I actually feel much better. Instead of an early night, I might just treat myself to dinner and a theatre.'
    'I was going to offer you egg and chips with us, but your plan has far more going for it,' Gemma said cheerfully. 'But you will come to supper soon, won't you? Dave would love to meet you. I've mentioned you often. And now you've got my address and phone number, there's really no excuse…'
    Alix felt infinitely happier as she left Waterloo, and hailed a taxi to take her into the West End. It had been marvellous to bump into Gemma like that. They had been so close at school, but afterwards it was only too easy to lose touch. She was ashamed to think that she hadn't even known that Gemma was married, let alone met her husband, and she couldn't help wondering why the family hadn't told her, because they must have known.
    I could at least have sent a present, even if I couldn't have gone to the wedding, she thought wistfully.
    Gemma had referred to her life with Bianca as a 'dream job', but suddenly Alix wasn't so sure. She'd begun to realise how totally and exclusively involved she was in her new life. Was it any wonder she was almost a stranger in her own home?
    She would have to insist that Bianca gave her regular time off in future, so that she could set about rebuilding some of the relationships that had suffered in the past, months—especially that with Debbie. She couldn't wholly accept Gemma's dismissal of Debbie's attitude as resentment and jealousy. She herself must be to blame in some way, and she could only be thankful that she had the opportunity to put things right before they went too far and there was a complete estrangement.
    Working for Bianca had been allowed to take her over. She lived, dressed, snatched her meals, even took her holidays at Bianca's imperious behest. She smiled wryly as she recalled how Bianca had tossed the plane tickets and hotel reservation in Rhodes to her quite casually one day.
    'Here you are, darling. You're looking pale and wan, and it depresses me.'
    Alix could have protested—should have done, she told herself reflectively. She could afford holidays for herself. Heaven knew, she had enough money. Her living expenses were so few that she now had a healthy deposit account in the bank.
    But she didn't argue, partly because Bianca liked to have her generous impulses received with due appreciation, and partly because she wanted to get away for a while anyway.
    If she looked pale and strained, Bianca might well be experiencing guilt rather than depression, she decided cynically. And it would undoubtedly be convenient for her employer to have her out of the way for a few weeks, while the affair she was having with Peter Barnet burned itself out.
    It wasn't the first time it had happened, of course. Peter was a journalist working for a show business column on one of the national dailies, and he had been invited to one of Bianca's cocktail parties. He was young, blond find undeniably attractive, and Alix had been attracted. She had enjoyed talking to him, and not been altogether surprised when he telephoned her and asked her to have dinner with him. She had seen him several times when Bianca had suggested, almost idly, that she might like to invite him to make up the numbers at a small dinner party she was giving.
    Alix's impulse had been to refuse. She knew what would happen; she had seen it all before. It was as if Bianca could not bear to see any personable man paying attention to anyone other than herself. Other men who had dated Alix had either found themselves frozen out, or overwhelmed with a display of charm calculated to undermine any masculine defences.
    Alix had not been in love with Peter, or with any of the