Matt dropped Lissa outside the caravan with a key and a carrier bag of basic supplies. She had flatly refused to take any of her clothes.‘They would stink the place out. I don’t feel up to washing them. Maybe your little friend Christie could do that in her spare time,’ she had said unwisely, then flinched at the anger in her husband’s face.He had been angry anyway, when he’d demanded to see the credit card slip from the dress shop, and admittedly Lissa had gone a bit over the top. She’d been feeling both angry and defiant – she hadn’t bought clothes for years and that was just what decent jeans and a good coat cost these days. He hadn’t said anything, but he had crumpled the slip in his hand and there was a white line around his lips. He’d been annoyed, too, when she’d refused to go to the Smugglers for meals, and made him stop to let her buy groceries.Now Matt had dumped her here, and just driven off as if he couldn’t bear to be a moment longer in her company.
