‘It's all right!' said Sarah, returning Bron's spontaneous hug. 'I've got our tickets. Quick, Elsa, bag that table.’

They organised themselves and eventually collapsed into their seats, all of them relaxing now they were actually on the train.

Bron got out one of her carrier bags. 'I know it's silly but I brought little bottles of champagne to drink. To get us in the mood!'

‘Oh, Bron, what fun!' said Elsa, glancing at Sarah, wondering how she'd react to this.

‘And things to eat.' A small pink cool bag came out of the carrier. 'And this!'

‘This' was a copy of Celeb magazine. On the cover was Carrie Condy, news of her approaching wedding advertised all over the front.

‘Give me that!' said Sarah. 'Mandy said something about them being interested. It would be amazing publicity for us all if they covered it.'

‘Of course they'll cover it!' Bron was passing out straws to go in the champagne bottles. Then she opened the cool bag. There were little smoked-salmon canapes and quails' eggs.

‘I've only just had breakfast,' said Elsa, nevertheless taking a roll of salmon filled with cream cheese.

‘So you managed to get away OK?' Elsa asked Bron as she eased the cork out of her little bottle.

‘Mm, yes, at last! Work wasn't hard, Mondays are quite slow and I'm owed loads of holiday. Roger was a bit harder to get round.’

Having taken Sarah's call in the pub garden the previous night, she had immediately made preparations. While actually at the pub she had asked Sasha for the day off. She had shrugged and said, 'Suit yourself.' Once she was home she had peeled some potatoes for Roger's supper the next night. The last thing she had wanted to do was to stand in her spindly heels at the sink, in her pretty dress. But Roger had told her early on in their relationship that he was a 'potato man'. Rice and pasta were a poor substitute, in his opinion. However, he wasn't much good at peeling them. If she didn't want a row, she must make things as easy as possible for him.

Having peeled them she cut them into chips, the squared-off, chunky way he liked them. When he got home from work he could cook these in the deep-fat fryer that had been their present from his parents. Bron hardly ever used it. Then she'd rummaged and found a couple of steaks she'd had in the freezer for a while and took them both out. He wouldn't need two but she could turn the other into a stir-fry the next day. She didn't actually go as far as cutting a tomato in half for him, but she considered it.

When she'd got his dinner ready as far as she possibly could, she went upstairs, showered and then put on the sexy and extremely uncomfortable underwear he had bought her last Christmas, because he liked to see her in it. When he came up to bed she was sitting up, perfumed, lightly made-up and adorned by black and red nylon, prepared to ask if it was all right if she went to London to see a client. Although Carrie Condy was only a potential client as yet, she didn't tell him that. When he heard the name he was impressed. He didn't want to show this, obviously, but Bron could tell. Later she wondered if she'd really needed the underwear to get round him. As she shuffled off to her side of the bed, now back in her own comfy cotton PJs, as near to the edge as she could get, she looked back over the day. The party had been grim. When she got back in from outside she'd been feeling more positive about herself, but the others had managed to wear away this spurt of confidence. No one had actually been rude, but she was firmly kept in her place as Roger's totty, without an identity of her own.

Those few minutes in the garden had been the only relief from it. After she'd spoken to Sarah, she and James had chatted for a bit longer. She remembered now that he'd said he was Ashlyn's parents' gardener – such a pleasant change from the commodity brokers, car salesmen and IT consultants she had been talked at by for the rest of the evening.

Bron, determined to let none of the previous day's irritations affect her day out in London, had got to the supermarket early and bought her picnic. She'd seen the magazine at the checkout and fallen on it.

Sarah, sitting next to Elsa and dressed in a business suit, was poring over it. 'It says here she's getting married in a "secret location". Well, they've got that bit right! Secret even from the wedding planner.’

Elsa said, 'Are you OK, Bron? You're still looking a bit stressed, in spite of bringing the party with you.'

‘Oh no, I'm fine now I'm here.' She smiled brightly. She reached across to her friend. 'That's a nice scarf you're wearing.’

Elsa looked down at it. 'Is it all right? I thought I should make some effort to brighten myself up.'

‘You definitely should,' agreed Bron. 'Now let's get this champagne down. It's not awfully cold, I'm afraid.’

‘It is awfully early, though,' said Sarah doubtfully. 'Have a cup of coffee afterwards,' said Bron. 'We're not meeting Ca- I mean our friend till when?’

Sarah lowered her voice. 'Four, and well done for not saying the name. Although it's in Celeb, no one is supposed to know about it.’

Elsa laughed. 'It is ironic, isn't it? Still, cheers! Here's to a great day out.’

They all clinked bottles and settled back in their seats.

‘So what's everyone doing before we get to meet the client?' asked Bron after a few minutes of companionable champagne-drinking silence.

‘I'm going to a fabric shop,' said Elsa. 'I'm hoping to get loads of samples for her. I've got quite a lot already but more is definitely more.' She belched politely. 'It's very fizzy, that champagne.'

‘It's supposed to be. The straws make it more intoxicating. Stop looking so worried, Sarah! What are you doing?'

‘I've got various bits and pieces that I want to find out for my sister, such as how quickly you can get a passport -why she hasn't got one I don't know. Anyway, what are you going to do, Bron? Go with Elsa?'

‘You're very welcome. It's a lovely shop.'

‘To be honest, to go shopping, in Oxford Street, without Roger, or anyone, would be total bliss. Brilliant not to have to rush to catch a train afterwards, too.'

‘Mm,' agreed Elsa. 'But Sarah? Who's paying for the hotel room? Not you, I hope?'

‘Carrie is, at least for us two. If she takes Bron on, then her room will be paid for too, obviously. If she doesn't,' Sarah went on quickly, 'it'll be absorbed by everything else. We don't need to worry about it.’

Bron sighed. 'I can't tell you how much I hope she takes me on, but the chances are minute. She's bound to have her own stylist and hairdresser.’

There was a silence. No one wanted to agree with her, but they all knew she was right. 'I need some bits and pieces for work too,' said Bron. 'I don't like buying my stuff through Sasha if I can help it.'

‘Why don't we go and do what we need to do and then meet up for a late lunch?' suggested Sarah. 'Then we can go and meet Carrie afterwards?'

‘Wonderful,' agreed Bron. 'We have all got each other's numbers, haven't we, in case I get lost and need to be talked my way to the restaurant?’

Having confirmed they had, they sat in silence for a while. Elsa was thinking about her evening with Laurence.

He'd been the perfect gentleman, taking her home, kissing her on the cheek. That was lovely, of course, but Elsa realised she wouldn't have minded if he'd been a tad less gentlemanly. A kiss on the lips would have been perfectly acceptable.