It had been a long night, her thoughts going round and round. She had been wrong about the coffee—she had drunk the whole potful! The mug of coffee in her hand was from a fresh pot she had just made. She didn't know what had happened last night, had gone over and over it hi her mind a thousand times, and she was still no nearer knowing whether her marriage to Martin had bothered Marcus—and, if so, in what way—or not. Had he been showing contempt for that marriage? Dislike of its existence? Indifference? What? She just didn't know. Just as she didn't know whether or not she would be seeing nun again. Her shattered nerves jumped as the telephone began to ring, and she swore softly to herself as she spilt hot coffee over her fingers, swearing again as the hot liquid landed on her bare toes. She slammed the mug down on the worktop, hopping across the room to snatch up the telephone receiver. 'Yes?' she snapped. 'Well?' her mother asked eagerly. Beth frowned, licking the sticky coffee from her fingers.
