her perfect little home not too far from their own house.
As she slipped the new outfit she and Helena had bought together from its protective wrapper Annie expelled a small shaky breath. She had come so far to reach this day, had had to come so far…The outfit was a soft icy blue, a perfect foil for her skin tone and her eyes. She had fallen in love with it the minute she had seen it, although it had taken a lot of persuasion and coaxing from Helena before she had finally given in and bought it.
In soft fine wool crêpe the trousers showed off the slender length of her legs and the narrow delicacy of her hips whilst the almost full-length coat added a breathtakingly stylish elegance to the ensemble. Beneath the coat there was a pretty embroidered top to add a final touch of glamour.
‘I won’t get my money’s worth out of it,’ Annie had predicted, shaking her head as she’d paid for it. ‘I don’t go anywhere I can wear something so expensive.’
‘Well, perhaps you ought to start,’ Helena had smiled. ‘Sayad would do anything to get you to agree to a date.’
Sayad was a very, very dishy anaesthetist who had recently joined the hospital staff, and he had made a bee line for Annie the moment he had seen her.
‘He’s nice,’ she had responded, quickly shaking her head. ‘But…’
But not her dream man. Oh, no—nowhere even near her dream man. Where Sayad was merry and open-faced her dream lover was dark-browed and almost brooding; a man where Sayad was still in some ways, despite his age, part boy. Without knowing how she knew, she knew that her dream lover would have an air of authority and masterfulness, an aura of such strong maleness that Sayad could never in any way really compare with him.
Despite her reservations about the cost of her new outfit, she had given way in the end because tonight was a special celebration: her close friends Bob and Helena’s wedding anniversary and Bob’s birthday.
At Helena’s insistence, following the successful conclusion of the long drawn-out legal battle she had endured before winning substantial damages for her injury, she was taking a few months’ sabbatical from her job. Earlier in the week she had said her temporary goodbyes to her colleagues at the multinational petrochemical company, Petrofiche, whose head offices were situated in what had originally been a very large country house several miles outside the city, over a happy girlie lunch.
For this evening’s meal she had booked a table at the area’s most prestigious restaurant on the river, insisting that on this occasion she was going to treat Helena and Bob, and that she would pick them up in her newly acquired and rather swish Mercedes car.
The car had been a real step forward for Annie. She hadn’t been able to drive when she had had her accident, and for a long time afterwards she had remained terrified of even being near a car never mind driving one. But eventually she had forced herself to overcome her fears and she had successfully taken her test. The weakness in her arm meant that she felt much more comfortable driving an automatic car than a manual, and so, aided and abetted by Helena and Bob, she had finally given in and allowed herself the luxury of her new smart car.
It didn’t take her long to get ready; she preferred to use the minimum of make-up and, as Helena often told her enviously, she was lucky enough to have naturally good skin. If her mouth was a little too full for her own liking, well, she had learned how to tone down its sizzling second glance male appeal with pastel-toned lipsticks. Her hair, silky and straight, she always wore long and simply styled, setting off her delicate bone structure.
Once on, the new outfit looked even better than Annie had remembered. She had finally, this last year, with the court case at long last behind her, started to put on a little extra weight and it suited her.
Giving her bedroom a proud appraisal, she walked over to the door. Her small Victorian cottage, bought out of the award the court had given her, had been very run-down when she had found it, and she had lived surrounded by builders’ rubble and very often the builders themselves whilst it was being restored and renovated, determinedly refusing Helena and Bob’s pleas for her to move back in with them until the work was finished. She had wanted to be on the spot, to prove her maturity and her independence and, most of all, to prove to herself that she was capable of managing on her own.
The large double bed which dominated the room couldn’t help but catch her eye. Even now she wasn’t quite sure why she had bought it, why she had so instinctively and automatically picked it out of all the beds in the showroom, heading for it almost like someone on autopilot, or someone who was sleepwalking.
All she had known was that it was the bed she had to have.
‘Well, it will certainly suit the house,’ had been Helena’s comment when she had taken her to see it, and she had admired its reproduction Victorian styling.
In her dreams she and her dream lover were always in this bed, although in her dreams…Guiltily Annie reminded herself that she was going to be late picking up her friends if she didn’t make a move.
Her face slightly more pink than it had been, she headed downstairs.
‘Goodness, this place looks busy this evening,’ Helena commented as Annie carefully reversed her car into the single parking space left in the restaurant’s car park.
‘Yes, they did say when I originally booked the table that they were expecting a busy evening. Apparently Petrofiche are having a dinner for their new consultant marine biologist.’
‘Oh, yes, I heard they’d found someone to take Professor Salter’s place. They’ve headhunted him from one of the Gulf States, or so I’ve heard. He’s extremely highly qualified and relatively young—in his thirties. It seems he’s actually worked for Petrofiche in the past.’
‘Mmm…It’s odd to think of a marine biologist working for the petrochemical industry,’ Bob cut in.
Helena gave him a wifely smile and then exchanged a conspiratorial look with Annie as she teased him,
‘I suppose you think of marine biologists as people who make underwater films of sharks and coral reefs…’
‘No, of course I don’t,’ Bob denied, but his sheepish look gave him away.
‘These days all the large multi-nationals are keen to ensure that their customers see them as greener than green and very environmentally aware,’ Annie told them both. ‘And because of the effect any kind of oil seepage has on the world’s seas and oceans, and their life forms, for companies like Petrofiche it makes good sense to use the services of such experts.’
They were out of the car now and heading towards the restaurant. Originally a private house, it had been very successfully converted to an exclusive restaurant, complete with a conservatory area and a stunningly beautiful garden which ran down to the river. As they walked past the wrought-iron gates that led to the private garden they could see inside it, where skilful lighting illuminated several of the specimen trees as well as the courtyard area and its decorative statues.
The restaurant was owned and run by a husband and wife team in their late thirties, and as she recognised them Liz Rainford gave them a warm, welcoming smile.
‘I’ve kept you your favourite table,’ she whispered to them as she signalled to a waiter to take them through to the dining room.
Liz was on the committee of a local charity that Annie helped out, by volunteering for fund raising duties when she could,
