And it didn’t bother him. It was just how he lived, from one woman to the next. He loved, he escaped, he went on. And he laughed. He’d been laughing all the time she’d berated him, not outwardly but inside. It had been there in his whole attitude, but mostly in his gleaming eyes.

Curse him for seeing her robe fall open. Just let him dare get ideas about her. She didn’t have a husband, but she did have a very useful left hook.

The thought made her feel better, and she fell asleep.

Next morning Mandy set out to walk the short distance through the snow-lined streets of Chamonix that led to the office where she was to join the expedition. Up ahead loomed the dazzling white mountains, inviting her to forget everything earthbound.

As she reached the office of Pierre Foule, expedition organiser, she could see a group of young people outside, looking around and up, impatient for the pleasure to begin.

‘When I told them at work that I was going to be climbing the Alps,’ a man was saying, ‘they were really impressed. Especially the girls.’

‘And aren’t you just going to make the most of it when you get back!’ another man ribbed him.

From behind Mandy a young female voice joined in the banter. ‘You want to be careful. These days we climb them ourselves, and we get to the top before you.’

There was a good-natured laugh. Mandy turned to see a woman of about her own age, with a cheerful face and a robust appearance.

‘Hi, I’m Joan Hunter,’ she said. ‘I’m going on the Mont Blanc trip.’

‘Me too. I’m Mandy Jenkins.’

They looked each other over approvingly.

‘I’ve just been in there to register,’ Joan said. ‘But it’s a madhouse. Pierre Foule, who was supposed to be leading us, is off sick, so someone else is standing in, and the girls are crowding round him, sighing. Not that he’s fending them off.’

‘Oh, heavens!’ Mandy said cynically. ‘One of them.’

‘Them?’