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those words, too.’

      Dax took a long swallow of the wine and said, ‘I know you don’t want to hear my problems, but there’s just one thing I’d like to say … okay?’

      ‘Shoot,’ she responded and sipped her wine.

      ‘I’d like you to explain why you’re so against my going out to LA? I mean, what do you have against Hollywood?’

      ‘I don’t have anything against it, nor am I against you going, actually. I was just trying to point out, earlier, that moving to another city doesn’t solve problems. Not for anyone. Because the problems are inside the person … a new city won’t change a thing, Dax. Anyway, I was always led to believe that Hollywood was a bit … well, overcrowded, especially with young talent.’

      ‘I hear you, and you’re right, M. But I haven’t been able to get acting work here, and I do want to be an actor … I’ve been acting since I was a kid, you know. I thought I ought to go out to the Coast and give it a try, take my chances.’

      ‘I understand. I suppose if you don’t go you might end up regretting it one day.’

      ‘Does that mean I have your blessing, M?’

      ‘Not really. Because I do think you should try again, have a go at getting a job here. But I do understand why you want to go to the Coast.’

      ‘Thanks for saying that. And listen, it will remove me from the scene here. I think I’d like to make myself scarce, if only for a few months.’

      M nodded, pursed her lips together, and then said softly, ‘I’ll miss you, Dax.’

      He was an observant young man, and he noticed the sadness flickering in her eyes. Reaching out, he put an arm around her, pulled her closer and held her tightly against him. ‘I’ll stay in touch. And you know what, I’ll miss you too, babe, I will indeed.’ He turned her face to his and kissed her on the cheek. ‘We can call each other, text all the time.’

      ‘Yes, I know,’ she murmured and, putting a brave face on it, she went on, ‘I think we’d better go in. The soup must be ready by now, and I don’t want it to burn.’

      ‘What do you think is wrong with us, Dax?’ M asked a little later, sitting back in the chair, eyeing her friend across the kitchen table.

      Frowning, he said, ‘What exactly do you mean?’ As he spoke he put down his soup spoon and, with his head on one side, threw her a quizzical look.

      ‘Not being able to get work. Look, you’ve been trying hard to find an acting job, and I’m striving to be a model, but no one seems interested in us, do they?’

      ‘True enough, but it’s more to do with the time of year than anything else, at least as far as modelling is concerned. And, let’s face it, you’ve only been in New York two months. But things are bound to pick up in the fall. As for me, I just explained why I’m seriously considering going to the West Coast. I want a change of scenery, new contacts, and I do think there are opportunities there.’

      M nodded, picked up her spoon and finished the soup. For a moment her mind focused on her eldest brother, who had often taken her under his wing, and tried to guide her in many different ways. He had once said that looks and talent weren’t always quite enough, that other factors frequently came into play in a successful career. Such vital things as timing, being in the right place at the right time, and, most importantly, having Lady Luck on one’s side. Although she sometimes disagreed with her brother about certain things, she was well aware he was wise and scrupulously honest. He told it the way it was, and she trusted him.

      ‘Penny for your thoughts,’ Dax said, peering at her.

      After a small silence, M responded, ‘I haven’t seen you act, but I’m assuming you can, and you’re certainly good looking, and you photograph well. But you’ve got to really want it – to be an actor, I mean. It’s really got to be the most important thing in your life, and you must have immense drive, discipline and determination. And total dedication. There are a lot of good-looking, talented young men out there, and you’ve just got to want it more, be better than them. If you’re going to succeed, that is.’

      He leaned forward. ‘But that is the way I feel, and I am very dedicated and determined, M, honestly. I just need one break.’

      ‘I know that. Sometimes it’s just a question of being in the right place at the right time. And of course, there’s another vital element involved—’

      ‘What’s that?’ he asked, cutting in.

      ‘Luck. You’ve got to have Lady Luck on your side.’

      He grimaced. ‘So far she hasn’t been anywhere in sight.’

      ‘Listen, go to Hollywood, Dax! Do it! Don’t listen to me and other nay-sayers. Take a chance, go out there and make it. I’m certainly behind you. Forget what I said about it being crowded with good-looking young talent … go and compete, and I wish you lots of luck!’ She laughed. ‘Just don’t forget me, will you? You’re the only friend I have in the whole of America.’

      ‘How could I ever forget you? You’re an original, M.’

THREE

      M was dozing, almost asleep, when she heard the noise. It brought her up with a start, and she tensed, straining to hear. There it was again … fainter now, but nevertheless quite a distinct sound, like metal falling on a hard surface.

      There was somebody in the house. Alarmed, she remained very still, her mind racing. It couldn’t be Geo. She was in New Jersey, and Annette Lazenby, who rented the small attic apartment above her, was in Afghanistan on one of her journalistic assignments.

      But there was somebody down there in the entrance hall, somebody who had obviously broken into the brownstone; how they had done this she wasn’t sure. M knew she had locked the door of the studio, which led to the garden, and later, when Dax had gone home, she had definitely double-locked the front door. But the alarm system was on the blink again, and she hadn’t been able to turn it on.

      Was there a window open somewhere?

      She swallowed, sudden fear rushing through her, and for a split second she was totally paralysed, unable to move, wondering what to do. Then, taking a deep breath, endeavouring to steady herself, M threw back the bedclothes and slid out of bed. Quickly taking off her nightgown, she dressed in the clothes she had shed a short while before, suddenly noticing that her hands shook as she zipped up her cotton trousers.

      After stepping into her loafers, she found her old Louis Vuitton shoulder bag in the cupboard, took it out, dropped in her mobile phone, wallet and door key, then slung it over her head with the strap across her chest. That was always the safest way to wear it, and especially right now. She might well get into a tussle with whomever it was downstairs.

      Moving closer to the bedroom door, she stood listening for a split second; the silence was deafening. Her umbrella was hanging on the hook behind the door, and she decided to take it with her. It was the only weapon available.

      Trying to be scrupulously quiet, she opened the door an inch or two and peered out. Everything was in darkness and very still; nothing moved. Summoning all of her courage, she went out into the corridor, and crept the few short steps to the head of the staircase; slowly, carefully, she began to walk down the stairs, holding on to the banister.

      M was almost at the bottom of the stairs when a strong hand grabbed hold of her arm, pulled her forward. Startled and frightened, she opened her mouth and began to scream, struggling to free herself. At the same time she lifted the umbrella and began hitting the intruder over and over again.

      ‘Stop it! Stop it!’ Geo shouted, instantly letting go of her. ‘It’s me. Geo! Stop hitting me, M.’ As she spoke, she ran across the hall and switched on

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