‘Brodie? A Dr Graham Marshall is on the phone and he says it’s urgent,’ said Lavender. She was in the third trimester of a much-wanted pregnancy and she sounded exhausted. I was surprised she was even answering calls–she had suffered from morning sickness so badly that she rarely made it out of the ladies’ these days. She had been grasping on to the fact that all the books her husband Eddie read assured them both that most women kissed goodbye to the nausea and vomiting once the first three months had passed. Lavender always did have to be different, though–and, at nearly seven months, it looked as if she might be one of the unlucky few who was going to throw up for the whole time. I felt sorry for her–but, after watching her and Eddie go through the misery of a miscarriage last year, I was secretly giving thanks every day she was sick as it meant she was still carrying that precious baby.

‘Make an appointment for him, Lavender.’

‘He says it’s urgent.’

‘Too bad. They always say that, as well you know. I’ve got a family dinner tonight and if I’m late Kailash will kill me.’

‘He really did sound as if it was urgent this time,’ she answered. ‘Anyway–don’t you recognize the name? He’s that plastic surgeon. He’s very good. Apparently.’ I know that Lavender–and Kailash–thought I should know every mover and shaker in the city, but recognizing the names of plastic surgeons was surely taking things a bit far? Unless there was an implication that I might need an appointment myself.

‘It’s always urgent,’ I repeated. ‘What’s it about?’

‘He won’t tell me.’

Dr Graham Marshall just went up in my estimation. Lavender was the nosiest person I’ve ever met, and if he’d managed to keep his reason for needing an ‘urgent’ appointment from her, he might be intriguing.

My watch showed that it was six o’clock and I had to be at The Vineyard for seven thirty. Kailash could do everything except cook, so we tried whenever possible to make her take us to restaurants. If I saw Dr Marshall, it would mean I wouldn’t have time to change and Kailash would give me a bollocking. No, it wasn’t worth that. This meal meant a lot to her–when Grandad got back from his cruise, she and my half-sister Connie were all going off skiing, so it was the last time I’d see them for a while. I still felt pretty pissed off that I couldn’t go due to work pressures and money worries. If I missed the meal, too, I’d pay the price.