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creeping over her again. Much as she loved her parents she was beginning to believe they were still lying to her. And she didn’t want to think about why that might be.

      Stella

      When Stella told Maggie about the £500 Ben had given her for the drawings, Maggie said, ‘You can bet your life he got a lot more than that for them. Next time ask for double.’

      ‘There won’t be a next time. I don’t want to get into producing copies. I need to focus on my real work.’

      Still, she enjoyed treating Maggie to a meal for once even if it was only fish and chips from the corner chippie and a cheap bottle of Muscadet. They sat at the old Formica kitchen table laughing about fools who were prepared to pay out hundreds for pencil drawings that weren’t even original. When they finished the wine Maggie produced a bottle of Bacardi and a few cans of Coke.

      They were supposed to go to the gallery the next morning to see the exhibition before it opened the following week, but slept in and didn’t get there until late afternoon. David let them in and said he needed to leave in half an hour so they didn’t have long. Ben wasn’t around, but Stella was glad to see the dark-haired guy, James, who had sat with her in the courtyard after the photoshoot.

      He smiled and waved, but after one glance at him all Stella could see were her own paintings. Looking at them she felt breathless because, although David had promised they would be in a prominent position, she hadn’t realized just how they would dominate the room.

      Maggie was standing in front of her own two collages, but when she turned away from them Stella saw that her face was twisted into a scowl that was almost frightening. Then, without a word, she walked out.

      James came over. ‘Your stuff looks fabulous. Well done.’ She managed to thank him, but when he pushed the catalogue into her hand, her heart sank. Her photograph was the only one on the front cover. The names of all the other artists were there, but it was the photo that caught the eye, of course. Inside it was even worse, because alongside the individual snaps of the four men, crammed onto one side of a two-page spread, was the one of her and Maggie together in their blue and green dresses. None of the many pictures of Maggie on her own had been used.

      James must have realized she was upset because he grabbed her hand. ‘Let’s get a drink, shall we?’

      They went to a pub nearby, and he tapped his glass against hers. ‘You should be dancing in the street and instead you look as if someone died. Don’t let other people put you down. Your stuff is the best in the show and if anyone is jealous then that’s their lookout.’

      He was very kind, but she didn’t feel much better. ‘It’s just that Maggie has been so good to me. If it wasn’t for her, I wouldn’t even have been able to stay in London. And she got Ben and David to look at my work.’

      ‘OK, so when you’re successful you can try to give her a leg up. And remember, she may have helped your stuff get seen, but it’s your talent they love.’

      When they eventually left they bought a takeaway pizza and ate it as they walked back to the flat James shared with a couple of others. No one else was in and they collapsed on his bed fully clothed.

      She woke with her mouth dry and her head thumping. Light was coming through the thin curtains, although her watch said it wasn’t yet six a.m., and the room smelled of beer and sweat. She rolled off the bed, and James opened his eyes, struggling to focus on her.

      ‘All right?’ He still sounded drunk.

      ‘Yeah, but I’d better get home.’

      ‘OK, see you later.’ He turned over and was soon asleep again.

      As she got the bus back to Maggie’s she told herself she was a coward for not facing her yesterday. She let herself in as quietly as she could and went to tiptoe upstairs, but Maggie shouted from the kitchen.

      ‘No need to hide. I’m making toast so come and get some.’

      Stella hovered at the door, and Maggie laughed. ‘Stop looking so scared. I know it’s not your fault you’re so bloody talented and my stuff is shit.’

      ‘That’s not true.’

      ‘The talent or the shit? No, don’t answer that.’

      Although Maggie seemed calm for the moment, Stella knew she had to be careful. Her temper was unpredictable and she had smashed most of the plates in the kitchen after her last fight with Ben and boasted that he’d only avoided a black eye by running to his car.

      ‘Anyway where were you last night?’ she asked.

      ‘I went for a drink with James.’

      ‘Ah, dishy James. Tell me more.’

      ‘I stayed over at his, but before you start getting ideas, I just slept there. With all my clothes on as well.’

      ‘Oh but next time maybe?’ She laughed. ‘I thought there were some sparks. We must find something great for you to wear to the opening. Me too, of course.’

      It looked as if things were going to be all right, so she smiled and said, ‘You looked lovely in that blue dress. And maybe I could wear the green again.’ A sudden thought. ‘Or what about swapping them over? And doing our hair identically? If people have seen our photo in the catalogue, they could be really confused. I’d love that.’

      ‘Hmm, no, with gorgeous James in your sights I say we need something a bit sexier for you. And I want to be completely different. All the catalogue pictures show me in that blue dress.’

      Stella felt the piece of toast she was swallowing turn into a solid lump in her throat. Maggie had rushed out of the gallery as soon as she’d seen the way her own collages and Stella’s paintings were displayed.

      She still didn’t know about the catalogue.

       CHAPTER SEVEN

      Eve

      Eve caught the train for London an hour or so after Alex left for work. She hadn’t told him she was going to see Ben Houghton. On the drive home from Newcastle it was clear he thought all they could do was wait and hope to hear from the solicitors. Eve doubted that would ever happen, but if Alex believed she was going to leave it there it might be for the best. This was her problem, not his.

      She couldn’t just wait because even if the collector did get in touch he or she might know nothing about Stella. She needed to focus on the people who definitely did. Apart from her own parents that meant Ben and Maggie. If those two really did have an affair, as her dad suspected, Ben might know where to find Maggie. And Stella had been in Italy with Maggie when she died. If anyone knew the truth of what had happened it had to be her.

      Ben and his wife lived in Mayfair. Eve’s train came in at Charing Cross and it wasn’t far on the tube after that. It was a short walk to their street, but she had begun to feel huge. It had turned bitterly cold and the wind spat rain into her face as she searched for the house. Her back ached and she rubbed her belly and made a silent apology to the baby. I promise I’ll take it easy tomorrow, my darling.

      Although Ben and David had been colleagues and had known each other since university they hadn’t exactly been friends and had rarely seen each other since her dad left the business. So Eve had never met him or his wife.

      The house was an elegant Regency building with stone steps leading up to a heavy front door that shone with black paint and golden brass. Eve had to stand for a moment breathing heavily before she knocked.

      The woman who opened the door was not young, but in her grey woollen dress, with her blonde hair in a simple up-do she could have stepped off a catwalk. She smiled. ‘Yes?’

      Eve swallowed. ‘Hello,

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