Elegantly tailored, it buttoned down the front into a neat waist and flared out to just above the ankle in sensuous soft folds. The sleeves came to the elbow. The curve of her bosom stopped it looking matronly. She gazed at herself in the mirror. The green was like the oily, swirling, patterns on a peacock’s tail, merging and changing beneath the light, making her eyes emerald green, her tumbled hair russet. It was simply the most beautiful thing she had ever worn.

‘Come on out, Maddy,’ Caroline called. ‘I’ll give you my honest opinion.’

Feeling beautiful for the first time in her life, Maddy stepped out into the shop.

‘You’ve got to have it,’ Caroline said. ‘It is simply divine. Maddy, you look terrific.’

‘Wonderful, madam.’ The assistant was smiling genuinely for the first time. ‘A complete transformation.’

‘With the right shoes, Maddy,’ Caroline was saying, ‘maybe green suede courts, and opal jewellery … oh, yes. It’s absolutely fantastic. Do you like it?’

‘I love it but –’

‘That’s settled then. Oh, I wish Drew was here. He’d tell you just how gorgeous you look. Men are so good at knowing what suits one, aren’t they?’

Maddy didn’t know. She’d never consulted Peter over her mainly second-hand wardrobe. And she certainly didn’t want Drew to be there, drawing comparisons between Caroline’s racehorse slenderness and her own voluptuous body.

‘I don’t think …’

‘Don’t be silly.’ Caroline was already fishing in her handbag for her credit cards. ‘Go and get changed, then we’ll zoom off to Harvey Nick’s for lunch.’

God, Maddy thought, as she pulled the fitting room curtains again. Could she afford Harvey Nicholls for lunch? Would she ever be able to afford lunch again? She looked at the price ticket on the dress and nearly fainted. It was more than she allowed herself out of Shadows for two months. She let the soft folds trail through her fingers and looked in the mirror again. Maybe Drew would love her if she dressed like this. Maybe that was what he wanted, someone who dressed as Caroline did. If she wore it to Epsom …

She did lightning calculations. It would mean no Hobnobs, no visits to the Cat and Fiddle, no spare bottles of Glenfiddich for desolate moments, and probably no electricity, gas, or telephone.

She sauntered up to the desk as though she’d been shopping in exclusive boutiques all her life and smiled at the assistant. ‘Yes, thank you. I’ll take it. Is Visa all right?’