‘I just wanted to meet them, reassure them that I’ll give them a fair chance to redeem the mortgage.’

‘Alex, haven’t you understood? As far as these men are concerned they owe you nothing, and you’re a usurper. Offering a “fair chance” to pay you is a recipe for bloodshed. Let’s get out of here fast.’

‘You go. I’m not running away from them.’

‘You may wish you had,’ he said gloomily.

‘Nonsense, what can they do to me?’

It had seemed so easy a week ago, sitting in the elegant London restaurant with David.

‘This inheritance will probably pay for your partnership,’ he’d observed.

‘And a lot of other things too,’ she said, smiling, and thinking of the dream home that they would share after their wedding.

David didn’t answer this directly, but he raised his champagne glass in salute.

David Edwards was part of Alex’s life plan. At forty, neatly handsome in a pin-striped kind of way, he was the head of a firm of very expensive, very prestigious London accountants.

Alex had started work for them eight years ago, after passing her accountancy exams with top honours. She had always known that one day she would be a partner, just as one day she would marry David.

Eight years had transformed her from a rather shy, awkward girl, more at home with figures than people, into a stunning, sophisticated woman.

It was David himself who had unknowingly started the transformation in her early days with the firm. Struck by his looks, she had longed to attract his attention.

After six months, without success, she had overheard him casually asking a colleague, ‘Who’s the pudding in the red dress?’

He had passed on, unaware that the ‘pudding’ had heard him and was choking back misery and anger.

Two days later David announced his engagement to the daughter of the senior partner.

Alex had plunged into her work. For the next five years she allowed herself only the most passing relationships. At the end of that time her long hours and excellent results had made her a power in the firm.