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isn’t going to do any good at all. It’s such nonsense, and it’s so obvious. The only cure is time, and lots of water for the dehydration.”
    He hadn’t liked that at all; knowing things, being right about them, was his department.
    “If I want a medical opinion, I’ll get it for myself when I’m ready,” he said in a rare demonstration of ill humour. “I don’t want it doled out in my own home, thank you very much, Emma.”
    And he poured himself a large Bloody Mary and proceeded to drink it with his breakfast eggs and bacon.
    Alex Pritchard, who adored Emma, and had never met Luke, but had heard more than he would have wished about him, and referred to him privately as the oik, would have interpreted this as proof, were it needed, of his extremely inferior intelligence.

CHAPTER 3
    The thing most occupying Laura’s time and attention as the long summer holidays drew near to their close was Jonathan’s surprise birthday party; he was forty in early October and had said several times that he didn’t want any big festivities.
    “In the first place, I’ll feel more like mourning than celebrating, and in the second I find those big-birthday parties awfully selfconscious.So no, darling, let’s just have a lovely family evening, Much easier for you too, no stress, all right?”
    Laura agreed with her fingers only slightly crossed behind her back, for what she had planned was very close to a family evening, just a dozen or so couples, their very best friends, and the children, of course. She was sure Jonathan would enjoy that and would actually have regretted not having a party of any kind; and so far the preparations were going rather well. Before their return from France, she had already organised caterers; Serena Edwards had been enrolled as her helpmeet with the flowers and decorations (it was most happily a Saturday, when Jonathan was on call), and Mark, Serena’s husband, was compiling a playlist and organising and storing the wine. Everyone invited could come; and Mark and Serena had also been enrolled as decoys, and had invited them both for a drink before dispatching them home again for dinner with the family. All the children were in on the secret and thought it was tremendously exciting.
    • • •
    Would she recognise him? Well, of course she would. From the pictures. Only people did look different from their photographs, and Russell had clearly selected his with great care over the years.
    The day was nearly here; only two and a half weeks to go. And after they had met at Heathrow—and for some reason she had insisted on that; it was neutral territory—they would travel together to London, where he had booked rooms at the Dorchester—“two rooms, dearest Mary, have no fear; I know what a nice girl you are!”—for two days, while they got to know each other again: “And after that, if you really don’t like me you can go home to Bristol and I shall go home to New York and no harm done.”
    She still thought much harm might be done, but she was too excited to care.
    She had told no one. She didn’t want to be teased about it, or regarded as a foolish old lady; she had simply told her daughter, Christine,and a couple of friends that she was going to London to meet an old friend she’d known in the war. Which was absolutely true.
    But she had bought a couple of very nice outfits from Jaeger—Jaeger, her!—where the girl had been so helpful, had picked out a navy knitted suit with white trim and a very simple long-sleeved black dress; and then, greatly daring, she had asked Karen, the only young stylist at her hairdressing salon, if anything could be done to make her hair look a bit more interesting.
    “Well, we can’t do much about the colour, my love,” Karen had said, studying Mary intently in the mirror, her own magenta-and-white-striped fringe falling into her eye, “although we could put a rinse on to make it a bit blonder-looking. Or some lowlights,” she added, rising to the