‘It’s my fortieth. Do come, it’ll be fun.’ Lorraine, clipboard in one hand, a pen in the other with its point pressed to the space beside Allison’s name, gave an impatient huff as she waited for an answer.

Guessing she’d been invited to make up the numbers rather than any real desire to have her company, Allison wanted to say an unvarnished no. She didn’t owe Lorraine anything. They weren’t friends. But, unable to think of a good enough excuse, she found herself nodding and spouting lies. ‘Of course, thank you, I’d love to come.’

For the remainder of the day, all kinds of acceptable reasons to refuse popped into her head. Too late, as these things usually were. It was a week to the party, and she promised herself she’d find an opportunity to tell Lorraine she couldn’t, after all, make it, that something unexpected had come up and how genuinely sorry she was. But the week had flown by and a chance to tell her, even if Allison could have found the words, never occurred.

The night of the party, she took out a dress she’d bought months before and never worn. It had been in the window of an expensive boutique she regularly passed on her way to work. Her social life being non-existent, there was no requirement for fancier clothes than the rather dull suits she bought in M&S, so she’d never gone inside.

But on a particularly grey morning, the colour of the dress had caught her eye… a shade of turquoise she associated with the tantalising seascapes on the covers of holiday brochures. She’d stood staring at it as busy commuters surged by, then turned to join the flow, trying to put it from her mind. It was a busy day with little time for daydreaming but now and then, just for a few seconds, she allowed her mind to drift to the dress. A woman wearing such a divine garment couldn’t be dull; she’d be dazzling, oozing charm; her conversation would be sparkling and witty. She’d be everything Allison wasn’t, everything she longed to be.

It was a Thursday night. Late-night shopping. When she left the office for home that evening, the streets were heaving with shoppers who ploughed onward, laden carrier bags bumping into others willy-nilly as they passed. Allison slowed as she approached the boutique, half-afraid the dress would be gone, half-hoping it would be. If it was still there… she might go inside, try it on. Not buy it, of course, she’d nowhere to wear a dress so elegant.

It was there. She stood with her nose almost pressed to the traffic-dusty glass of the shop window. The dress was more lovely than she remembered and absolute longing consumed her. There was no harm in going inside to look at it, was there?