“Don’t worry, we can work it out together,” Andee assured her. “I have plenty of contacts, and if you need help sourcing fabrics I can make several suggestions, although I’m sure you’re much better connected in that field than I am.”

Since she wouldn’t have to use her old name when placing orders, Claudia said more confidently, “OK. If you text me the address and a time I’ll be there. I have no other commitments so I can fit in with you.”

“Music to my ears. I’ll do it right away.”

Clicking off the line, Claudia wondered where her mother had gone but didn’t go to look. Instead she walked to the window and rearranged the folds of a gauzy drape. She really didn’t think Andee Lawrence’s call was a trick, something set up by her sister-in-law, but she could no more stop the thought than she could the traffic outside. She scanned the Promenade for familiar faces, but saw only raincoated tourists braving the late September weather and locals going about their business.

“No one’s out there,” Marcy said gently as she came back into the room. “You don’t need to be scared.”

Claudia turned around. “I know,” she replied, and drew a hand down her slender neck as though to relieve the tension, “and one of these days I might stop thinking there is.” She smiled. “It’s not happening as often now.”

It was true, the sense of being followed or watched was no longer as consuming, and she’d even stopped seeing Eugena in the supermarket, coming out of the station, in the café, walking toward her on the beach . . . Women who actually looked nothing like Eugena could morph into her for brief, horrifying moments, but thankfully Claudia was getting this under better control.

It wasn’t quite the same with Marcus, for she still had nightmares about him and his cruelty; awful, terrible scenes of violence and anger that stayed with her after she woke up, that even revisited her during the day. Eugena had known what he was like, and some sadistic part of the woman had actually seemed to enjoy all the terror and misery her brother inflicted. “That’ll be the address,” Marcy said, as a text arrived on Claudia’s phone.

Claudia read the message twice and turned shining eyes to her mother. “She wants to meet later this afternoon,” she declared, surprised by a pleasing rush of eagerness. “She says to bring wellies, an umbrella, and a portfolio of my work.”

With a cry of joy Marcy came to embrace her. “This is going to be your first commission as Claudia,” she stated determinedly. “We should celebrate when you get back. Jasmine’s going to be over the moon.”