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Saskia shuddered to think even now of the potentially dangerous outcome of her grandmother’s illness if Megan hadn’t been there to nurse her. It had been on Saskia’s conscience ever since that she owed her friend a debt she could never repay. Saskia adored her grandmother, who had provided her with a loving and stable home background when she had needed it the most. Her mother, who had given birth to Saskia at seventeen was a distant figure in her life, and her father, her grandmother’s son, had become a remote stranger to both of them, living as he now did in China, with his second wife and young family.
‘I know you don’t approve, Saskia,’ Megan was saying quietly to her, ‘but I have to know that I can trust Mark.’ Her soft eyes filled with tears. ‘He means so much to me. He’s everything I’ve ever wanted in a man. But...he dated so many girls before he met me, before he moved here, when he lived in London.’ She paused. ‘He swears that none of them ever meant anything serious to him and that he loves me.’
Privately Saskia wasn’t sure that she could even begin to think about committing herself to a relationship with a man without being able to trust him—and trust him to such an extent that there would be no need for her to use any underhand methods to test his fidelity. But then she acknowledged that she was perhaps a trifle more wary of love than her friend. After all, her parents had believed themselves to be in love when they had run away to get married and conceived her, but within two years of doing so they had parted, leaving her grandmother with the responsibility of bringing her up.
Her grandmother! Now, as she looked at Meg’s tear-stained face, she knew she had no option but to go along with Lorraine’s scheme.
‘All right,’ she agreed fatalistically. ‘I’ll do it.’
After Megan had finished thanking her she told her wryly, ‘You’ll have to describe your Mark to me, Megan, otherwise I shan’t be able to recognise him.’
‘Oh, yes, you will,’ Megan said fervently with a small ecstatic sigh. ‘He’ll be the best-looking man there. He’s gorgeous, Saskia...fantastically good-looking, with thick dark hair and the most sexy mouth you’ve ever seen. Oh, and he’ll be wearing a blue shirt—to match his eyes. He always does. I bought them for him.’
‘What time is he likely to get there?’ Saskia asked Megan practically, instead of voicing her feelings. ‘My car’s in the garage at the moment, and since Gran’s house is quite a way out of town...’
‘Don’t worry about that. I’ll drive you there,’ Lorraine volunteered, much to Saskia’s surprise. Lorraine wasn’t known to be over-generous—with anything!
‘Yes, and Lorraine will pick you up later and take you home. Won’t you, Lorraine?’ Megan insisted with unexpected firmness. ‘There’s no taxi rank close to the wine bar and you don’t want to be waiting for a mini-cab.’
A waiter was hovering, waiting to take their order, but bossily Lorraine shook her head, telling Megan and Saskia firmly, ‘There won’t be time for us to eat now. Saskia will have to get home and get ready. What time is Mark likely to go to the wine bar Megan?’ she asked her cousin.
‘About eight-thirty, I should think,’ Megan answered.
‘Right, then you need to get there for nine, Saskia,’ Lorraine informed her, ‘So I’ll pick you up at half-eight.’
* * *
TWO HOURS LATER Saskia was just coming downstairs when she heard the front doorbell. Her grandmother was away, spending several weeks with her sister in Bath. A little nervously Saskia smoothed down the skirt of her black suit and went to open the door.
Only Lorraine was standing outside. They had agreed that it would be silly to take the risk of Megan being seen and recognised. Now, as Lorraine studied her, Saskia could see the older woman beginning to frown.
‘You’ll have to wear something else,’ she told Saskia sharply. ‘You look far too businesslike and unapproachable in that suit. Mark’s got to think you’re approachable—remember. And I really think you ought to wear a different lipstick...red, perhaps, and more eye make-up. Look, if you don’t believe me then read this.’ Lorraine thrust an open magazine beneath Saskia’s nose.
