‘What’s Briony got to be told first?’ Bernadette’s voice wafted in at the front door as she pushed herself in laden down with packages. Eileen took them from her and, blushing furiously, said: ‘I’m getting married, our Bernie, to Joshua.’

Bernadette screwed up her eyes in wonder and said loudly, ‘You ain’t? But he’s an old man!’

Molly, seeing Eileen’s face drop, gave Bernadette a stinging blow across the face and shrieked: ‘Shut your mawing, you jealous bitch! Your turn’ll come, if you can keep that galloping trap of yours shut for five minutes!

‘Our Kerry will walk down the aisle fastern’n you because she only opens her mouth to a bit of singing.’

Molly’s hard eyes stared into her daughter’s with a warning and Bernie shook her head hard before saying, ‘Our Kerry won’t be walking down the aisle, as you put it. Our Kerry just might find herself getting a bit of a shock...’

She stopped herself from saying any more because of the look on Eileen’s face. Even Rosalee seemed subdued now. Bernie realised that, as usual, she had walked into a merry situation and ruined it. It was a knack she had acquired as a child. Everyone was now angry or depressed on the day Eileen had announced she was getting married. For one of the few times in her life, Bernie felt ashamed. Poor Eileen had been so unhappy for so long, and now she was taking the shine off the news. She rubbed at the handprint that was glowing bright red on her cheek and grinned ruefully.

‘I’m sorry, Eileen, it’s great news. The best news ever!’

She kissed her sister on the cheek and in all the consequent excitement and chattering about the big day, Molly ignored the quip about Kerry, but it stayed in the back of her mind nevertheless.

Briony stood outside Mariah’s house in Hyde Park and gave the large imposing building the once over. It really was a lovely old place. Painted white, the four-storey edifice blended in perfectly with its neighbours. It was class, and Briony felt a grudging respect for the woman who owned it.

She walked up the flight of scrubbed stone steps that led to the front door and rang the bell. The door was opened by a finely muscled young man in his early-twenties dressed in the scarlet and silver livery that, Briony was to learn, was worn by all Mariah’s staff.

He took her through a large entrance hall and into the office area of the house. He asked her politely to sit while he summoned his mistress. Briony was now impressed beyond her wildest imaginings. She might have been calling on Isabel Dumas. She sat herself in a leather winged chair and pulled off her gloves, her eyes greedily drinking in her surroundings.