‘So I’ve experienced,’ Maisie replied with obvious bitterness.

Several expressions chased through Sonia’s eyes.

Then she said, ‘Let’s start again. Should we be friends? Because I get the feeling you might be in need of a friend and I’m actually rather fond of Rafe despite his infuriating ways. I believe you’re pregnant and that bastard Tim Dixon is responsible?’

Maisie sat down unexpectedly and burst into tears. Sonia brought her tissues and patted her shoulder then she made a cup of tea.

When the worst of it was over and Maisie was sipping her tea gratefully, she said, ‘Sorry. I’ve actually placed a ban on any more tears; I don’t usually cry at the drop of a hat but…’ She gestured a little helplessly.

‘Pregnancy alone can do that to you, as I should know, having been there three times myself, but a contretemps of this nature on top of it…’ Sonia shrugged. ‘But you have agreed to marry Rafe, haven’t you?’

‘Only because I won’t have a shred of reputation left to me if I don’t and that’s not the kind of background I want for this baby. No child deserves that.’

‘So,’ Sonia paused, ‘does he make your skin crawl or something like that?’

Maisie blinked. ‘Rafe?’

‘Yes.’

‘No! I mean, no, he doesn’t, but,’ she hesitated, ‘that’s no reason to get married.’

Sonia eyed her for a long moment. ‘Is there anyone in your life who would strongly object to you marrying Rafe?’

‘No.’

‘Is there any part of your life that’s going to be hard to give up?’

Maisie paused. ‘I loved my job but that’s definitely gone and, really, I can only blame myself for that.’ She pinched her nose then blew it. ‘Otherwise,’ she shrugged, ‘I’m only twenty-two so it’s not as if anything had been cast in concrete for me. Still…’ She threaded her fingers together.

Sonia said shrewdly, ‘Are you afraid of falling in love with Rafe? You know, you two could find you’re right for each other. If nothing else, he must be very concerned about you to do this.’

‘I think,’ Maisie said carefully, ‘that falling in love with him would be a very foolish thing for a girl like me to do. Can you imagine your brother wanting someone carrying another man’s child?’

‘No.’ Sonia sighed. ‘Especially not Tim Dixon’s. I’m sorry,’ she added immediately, ‘please don’t take that the wrong way. I just-’ she banged her palm on her forehead ‘-can be the most tactless person sometimes. But look, may I stay? And if you are going to marry Rafe, may I help you through it?’

Sonia had been invaluable as company and in a practical way.

Maisie had discovered, when she’d enquired who was looking after Sonia’s children, that Rafe’s sister was separated from her husband, although fairly amicably apparently, and their father was looking after them.

So far as practicalities went, Sonia had insisted that Maisie would need a new wardrobe and not only to accommodate her expanding waist, as she put it.

‘It hasn’t expanded that much yet and I think the idea is for me to be in seclusion, anyway,’ Maisie protested.

‘It will! And seclusion maybe but not solitary confinement!’ Sonia shot back then grinned. ‘Besides which, shopping is therapeutic, and if anyone can afford it, Rafe can. Anyway, summer’s coming and who doesn’t shop for the change of seasons?’

So Maisie had acquired a new wardrobe of specifically designed clothes to suit her condition, clothes that made her realise she was growing at last even if it wasn’t visible in the right clothes.

They hadn’t even had to go out to do this. Several calls from Sonia plus an astute fashion sense and, almost as if she’d waved a magic wand, a selection of clothes came to them from a variety of her favourite boutiques and department stores.

Maisie had had to marvel at the powers of wealth, then she’d had to smile when Sonia had the nerve to drive a hard bargain at the same time.

Unfortunately, she’d been hard put to throw herself heart and soul into this exercise because she’d found herself feeling a bit like Cinderella, and not at all sure that she wanted to be on the receiving end of such largesse from Rafe.

But when Sonia had divined this she’d pointed out that the clothes were props really and, if Maisie was going to marry Rafe and have the whole world believe it, she needed to look and feel the part.

‘There’s nothing worse than feeling out of place, clothes-wise,’ she said stringently. ‘Now for the wedding outfit. White?’ she went on to query.

‘No. I’m not entitled to wear white.’

‘Oh, phooey, who cares about that old tradition?’

‘And I wouldn’t even if I were,’ Maisie persisted, ‘because I look dreadful in white.’

Sonia laughed. ‘OK! I give up! We’ll look for something else.’

The result had been a beautiful silk tapestry suit in a pale peppermint-green, so artfully designed you wouldn’t have known she was pregnant.

In between putting together a wardrobe, Jack Huston had come to see Maisie several times.

She liked him. He was quiet, tall and gangly, he treated her with deference whatever his feelings on this out-of-the-blue marriage of his boss’s-though did she but know it, he’d been shocked into utter, unblinking silence on hearing the news.

Then he’d got another shock when she’d made her wishes known to him when he brought up the subject of her house.

‘Yes, I’ve been thinking,’ she said. ‘I-’

‘Rafe doesn’t want you to sell it,’ he broke in.

‘Rafe…’ Maisie hesitated and changed tack. ‘No, I won’t, at the moment. But I’d like to rent it out until, and if, I do decide to sell it. That way any repairs, and the rates, would be taken care of, so, well, they wouldn’t be a drain on Rafe.’

A drain on Rafe Sanderson? Jack Huston thought incredulously.

‘Would you be able to arrange that, Jack?’ she asked anxiously.

‘Yes, of course. Um-I believe there’s also a boat?’

Maisie fought a private little battle with herself. ‘I-I would like to sell it.’

He told her that he could arrange that for her as well, then he produced some papers. ‘If you could let me have your passport and sign these I could get it changed to your married name. I could do the same for your bank accounts et cetera.’

She agreed but she drew the line at anyone but herself severing her connection with the band, or resigning her job for her.

‘I think,’ Jack said carefully when she voiced this opinion, ‘it’s important for them to know you’re getting married and to whom. You could emphasise that because he is who he is, to protect you from any unwelcome publicity, it’s been a behind-the-scenes matter.’

She agreed again after a long moment but that was when it dawned on her that Jack Huston knew more about her than she’d realised, perhaps all there was to know but specifically that this exercise in marrying Rafael Sanderson was designed to protect her name.

And she’d appreciated all the more his practical, deferential manner, but the deep reservations she had about marrying Rafe Sanderson hadn’t gone away.

Then Rafe had come home and, without quite knowing how it started, they’d had their first row the moment they’d laid eyes on each other again, two days before the wedding…

It was about five o’clock in the afternoon and Maisie had spent most of her day trying on clothes, hats, shoes-everything, really.

When Sonia left to go and see her children she decided to have a shower, and when she came out of it she tied her hair in a bunch on top of her head with a green ribbon and put on a new outfit she’d acquired for her trousseau.

She had no idea whether it was unlucky to wear your trousseau before the wedding but the long-sleeved, loose wool top the colour of heather and gun-metal satin trousers, with an expanding waistline, seemed to suit her mood.

‘Well, Maisie,’ Rafe strolled into the apartment, using a key she didn’t know he had, and found her in her bedroom, ‘has Sonia been looking after you?’

She jumped and dropped a pile of gorgeous lingerie she’d been sorting. ‘I didn’t hear-How did you get-? Don’t do that, Rafe! You don’t own me yet.’

It wasn’t what she’d planned to say, it seemed to come out of its own accord, but her heart was still banging with fright and, if she was honest, her usual reaction to Rafe Sanderson when she hadn’t seen him for a while.

He raised his eyebrows. He was casually dressed in jeans and a round-necked grey jumper she recognised. And he took in her bunch of curls and the ribbon, the droplets of moisture still sliding down her slender neck and her bare feet.

‘Who said anything about owning you?’ he drawled. ‘And why so jumpy?’

She licked her lips-why so jumpy? ‘You accused me of it once but you must have a remarkably short memory! Thanks to you I’m in hiding, I’m scared to show my face and I’m not enjoying it.’

‘Thanks to me is debatable,’ he shot back. ‘You were the one who snuck aboard the Mary-Lue and nearly drowned me, which actually, whatever you might like to think, presaged all that followed.’

She opened her mouth to fire back an angry retort but he added coldly, ‘You were the one to follow me to Tonga without having the sense to make sure you had accommodation.’

She paled but her eyes darkened. ‘Why on earth you want to marry such an idiot is beyond me, Rafe!’

‘Stop it,’ he commanded through his teeth, and grasped her wrist. ‘I know, and you know, it’s the only thing to do.’

‘That doesn’t mean to say I have to like it. Let me go!’ She tugged at her wrist but he held on fast.

‘No. Not yet.’ His face was set in harsh lines and his mouth was hard. ‘Not until we’ve sorted this out. Yes, we’ve both made mistakes. No, I don’t think you’re an idiot-unless,’ he said deliberately, ‘you plan to make heavy weather of this all the way?’