She slept late the morning after her meeting with Lewis, having fallen into a deep sleep just as dawn was paling the sky, and she did not even hear Edward leave the house for work. She awoke finally at nine o’clock to the sun streaming onto the bed and the telephone on the table beside her jangling stridently. She pushed back her heavy hair and reached for it, with the half-formed hope that it might be Lewis, but the brisk masculine voice said succinctly, ‘Caroline? Richard. How’s Laura?’ ‘Laura?’ She was still struggling free of the last strands of sleep. ‘Much the same as when you last phoned. Up and down.’ ‘Um. Okay if Gilly and I descend on you for the weekend?’ ‘Oh—I—yes, of course.’ As long as she could lose them tomorrow morning. Tomorrow—Richard was talking and she forced herself to attend. ‘. . . so we can be with you around six.’ She frowned, having lost the thread. ‘This evening?’ ‘Most assuredly this evening. And by the way, don’t worry about making up two beds—we shan’t use them.
