This might have defeated less determined women, but Victoria had a pragmatic turn of mind, and once she’d realised that Janet was the only one who could under any circumstances precipitate a separation, she knew that she would have to provide her with a damn good reason for doing so. Without, of course, being in any way to blame. Her hands must be cleaner than clean.

‘And this is the silk tulle that I’m going to use for the skirt, like a huge kind of tutu.’

‘Oh, gorgeous.’ Victoria ran her fingertips over the fabric, an exquisite pale yellow, almost cream. ‘It will look absolutely perfect.’

‘And at the other end of the scale,’ said Isabelle, flicking through the hangers on her rail, ‘we have my absolute favourite, this is going to make what I call the dragon dress.’ She pulled down a swatch of poison-green satin. ‘It was the first thing I saw at Premiere Vision, and it was the best. It’s very simple . . .’

‘But it’s also very special.’ Victoria took the hanger, held it up beside her face. ‘The colour! It’s like . . . poison.’

‘That’s exactly what I thought!’ Isabelle clapped her hands. ‘Oh, it suits you.’

‘I’m not sure how I should take that.’

‘I don’t mean . . . Just . . . with your hair, and your colouring. Your eyes.’

‘And how will this “dragon dress” work?’

‘A simple bodice, just covering the bust, halter neck, leaving the shoulders and the sides bare to the waist. Heavy vertical gathering around the waist, and then . . .’ Isabelle threw her hands out. ‘Sheeyooo! Straight to the floor. Huge.’

‘I can see it! I can see it! Oh, you must show it to Rivelli. He’ll be so impressed.’

‘Really?’

‘Absolutely. It’s just what he needs. Bold and young but with good tailoring.’

‘Yes, that’s the general idea.’

‘I tell you what,’ said Victoria, in whose mind a plan was forming, ‘you should get it made up and send it to him. Like a calling card.’

‘I’d have to talk to Will about that. He takes care of all the business stuff.’

Victoria clapped her hands, spun round on the balls of her feet. ‘In fact, have it made up in his wife’s size. He’d love that. It’s just her colour.’

She’ll look like mud in it.

‘Wow . . . Well, if you really think . . .’

‘We’ll pay for it, of course,’ said Victoria. ‘I know how tight money is. And I tell you what – how about if I take one for myself as well. It’s just too perfect. We’ll just have to be very careful not to wear it at the same time.’

‘I’d need measurements.’

‘Leave all that to me,’ said Victoria. ‘Oh, and hurry. I can’t wait to wear it.’

Christine felt confident enough to call Andy and arrange a meeting. There were things they had to discuss – the children, mainly – but she had been putting it off, not trusting herself to keep up the ‘I’m doing fine’ act. Now she really was, she called – and Andy accepted immediately, almost eagerly. She suggested a restaurant, neutral territory, away from reminders of their life together, and he proposed that he would treat her to dinner. She was about to protest, and then thought – well, why not? It excited her. She chose not to analyse this too much. She was busy with another big case in the daytime, and with Joel in the evenings. Why waste time worrying about an ex-husband?