Sophie turned on her heel and tried to usher Lindsay out of the room. But she was too late. Lindsay had already spotted the reason for her abrupt, awkward halt. Sitting at a table on the far side of the room were two women, deeply engrossed in conversation. It was obvious to the most casual observer that they were a couple. She had never seen the slender blonde before. But the woman sitting opposite her was as familiar to Lindsay as her own face in the mirror. She felt her stomach lurch and fought the desperate urge to be sick. Without even realizing she was doing it, she shrugged off Sophie’s restraining arm and purposefully crossed the room.

Neither of the two women registered her presence till she was only feet from their table. Even then, it was the blonde who looked up first. When she saw Lindsay, a series of reactions flashed across her face in a moment. Curiosity was overtaken by bewilderment, bewilderment by shock, and shock by a strange mixture of relief and amusement. Her companion was slower to realize they had company, since Lindsay had approached from behind her. She turned in her chair and her eyes widened. “Lindsay!” she gasped, pushing her chair back and getting to her feet. She gave a nervous half-smile, apparently incapable of further speech.

“Hello, Cordelia. Fancy meeting you here. That explains why I couldn’t find you in London,” Lindsay said with ice in her voice.

The blonde woman got to her feet and extended a slim hand. “Hello, Lindsay. We’ve never met before, but I’ve heard a lot about you . . .”

“I bet you have,” Lindsay interrupted savagely, ignoring the outstretched hand.

Undaunted, the other continued. “I’m Claire Ogilvie. Jackie—Jackie Mitchell, that is, told me a lot about you. That’s how I came to meet Cordelia.”

“How fascinating,” Lindsay said with heavy sarcasm, mentally slotting Claire into place. Jackie’s girlfriend, the lawyer. Portia with a Porsche. Cordelia had obviously had her fill of working-class heroes and reverted to type, Lindsay thought furiously. In a cold voice she said, “Well, don’t let us interrupt your intimate little tête-a-tête. Come on, Sophie,” she added, turning away. “We’ll find somewhere more congenial to eat.”

“No, wait,” said Cordelia, finally finding her tongue. “Don’t go, Lindsay.”

“Why not? You’ve obviously not been counting the minutes till I got back, have you?”

“I think you’re being a little unfair, Lindsay,” Claire said. “Why don’t you calm down and sit down and we can discuss this like adults?”

“Discuss what?” Lindsay demanded, her voice rising. “Discuss your relationship with the woman I have just discovered is my ex-lover?”

“Lindsay,” Sophie said in the soothing but firm voice she’d developed years ago to deal with drunks in casualty. “Cool it. Either let’s go now, or else sit down and have a drink.”