‘I know I told you. I told you ages ago and you haven’t moved.’

‘Coming, coming, coming,’ Angie muttered frantically to herself. ‘Have I got everything? Well, if I haven’t, it can’t be helped. Any minute now, she’s going to kill me.’ She raised her voice and called back to Heather. ‘Tell the man to take the bags out.’

Heather sounded as though she were dancing with frustration. ‘He’s already done that. Angie, I’m going to Sicily to get married, and if you don’t mind I’d prefer to get there before the wedding.’

‘But that’s not for a week, is it?’ Angie asked, appearing at that moment.

‘Well, I’d like not to cut it too fine, and that includes not missing the plane.’

It was the perfect day for leaving London. The rain poured down in buckets, making the journey from the front door to the cab a mad dash. The two young women made it, laughing with delight at escaping, at being on their way to the sun, laughing because they were young and happy and one of them was getting married; because life was good despite the rain.

‘Look at that!’ Angie said when the door was shut behind them. ‘Have you ever seen such rain? Oh, it’s good to be going.’ She saw her friend eyeing her askance and added penitently, ‘Sorry I kept you waiting.’

‘I don’t know how you ever got to be a doctor,’ Heather said. ‘You’re the most disorganised person I know.’

‘Ah, but I’m not a disorganised doctor,’ Angie said with truth. ‘It’s just that in my private life I tended to be-you know.’

‘Birdbrained, scatty and infuriating,’ Heather said.

Angie stretched happily. ‘I really need a holiday. I’m worn out.’

‘I should think you are. It must be tiring running away from all your admirers, Bill and Steve and-’

‘Bill and Steve?’ Angie looked aghast.

‘You do remember them don’t you?’

‘Oh, yes. Last month. History.’

‘Do they know they’re history?’ Heather asked.