CHAPTER THREE

      ‘MAY I come in, Audrey?’

      ‘No, no, Lavinia, don’t come in. I’m still getting dressed. I don’t want anyone to see me till I’m all ready.’

      ‘Really, all this mystery!’ Lavinia said peevishly through the door. ‘First you won’t tell us anything about this Elliot you’ve invited. Now you won’t let me see what you look like. I just thought you might need some help with your hair. After all, you didn’t go to the hairdresser’s with me this afternoon, even though your father arranged for you to have time off work.’

      ‘My hair’s fine,’ she called back. ‘I did it myself.’

      ‘That’s what I’m afraid of, dear. You know how—’

      ‘Lavinia!’ Audrey burst out with uncharacteristic assertiveness. ‘Just leave me be for once!’

      ‘You don’t have to take that tone with me, Audrey. Truly, I don’t know what’s got into you today. Turning twenty-one is not a licence to be rude!’

      Guilt assailed Audrey as she heard Lavinia flounce off, muttering. The impulse to go after her, call out, say something placatory was strong. But she was afraid Lavinia would say something patronising about her appearance, undermining the pleasurable confidence that was growing in Audrey every single second.

      She turned to stare at herself in the full-length mirror one more time. She could hardly believe how good she looked. The cream silk dress didn’t water down her fair complexion as Lavinia had said it would. It gave her skin a softly glowing sheen. The evidence before her eyes suggested to Audrey that the bright reds and pinks and purples Lavinia had been encouraging her to wear—supposedly to put colour in her face—had been having the opposite effect, making her looked washed-out and sickly.

      As for her hair... Audrey had never felt entirely comfortable with either the burgundy colour or the tightly curled perm which fluffed it out every which way. But Lavinia and her hairdresser had insisted on both, saying her natural brown hair was thin and mousy, that her small face needed dramatic balance, whatever that was. Despite some misgivings, she had taken their advice because they were the experts, and to give them the benefit of the doubt it was a common enough style and colour these days. Audrey had seen it to good effect on other women.

      But obviously not on her.

      Now that she had put it up, suppressing the mass into a tight chignon, with only a few curls escaping, Audrey could see that a shorter, less bulky style would suit her heaps better. Maybe a lighter, softer colour would be better too. She resolved to do something about both as soon as possible.

      The faint bong of the grandfather clock in the foyer striking seven filtered upstairs. Audrey swallowed, a burst of nerves fluttering into her stomach. Elliot would be arriving any minute, along with the other guests. She really should be going downstairs.

      Still she dithered, terrified that someone would say something critical about how she looked. It wouldn’t take much to shatter her new and fragile confidence. Maybe she didn’t look as good as she thought. Maybe she was being deceived by a minimal improvement from her previous horror.

      But it wasn’t just her own appearance that was making her nervous. Elliot’s would come as a bit of a shock, too. Both her father and Lavinia were probably picturing an effete and unprepossessing young snob, not the mature dashing figure Elliot would cut in a dinner suit. She hoped they wouldn’t appear too astonished, or ask too many awkward questions. Elliot had no idea he had been cast in the role of ardent admirer. No doubt he imagined he was coming merely as a friend.

      Quelling another flutter of nerves, Audrey took one last look in the mirror for renewed confidence and reluctantly made her way downstairs.

      ‘Why, Audrey, my dear!’ her father pronounced in surprised tones when she finally appeared in the doorway of the huge living-room. ‘You look lovely! Doesn’t she look lovely, Lavinia?’

      Audrey’s chest swelled, then tightened as Lavinia turned from where she was checking the glasses and decanters in the cocktail cabinet. Her black eyes narrowed as they travelled down then up the cream dress. ‘Yes...quite lovely,’ she agreed. But her eyes were angry.

      Audrey was once again taken aback by her stepmother’s attitude towards her, till she decided Lavinia’s nose was out of place that her judgement about the cream dress had been wrong. No one liked to be shown up, but one would have thought she’d be pleased her stepdaughter looked nice for her own birthday party.

      The front doorbell ringing distracted Audrey from her puzzled hurt.

      Elliot! she thought breathlessly.

      ‘I’ll answer that, Maree,’ she called out, stopping the maid in her tracks as she hurried across the black marble foyer towards the front door. The young woman, who’d been hired just for the night, looked hesitant for a moment, before making a shrugging retreat.

      Audrey’s heart was thudding loudly