Jeans weren’t what Charlotte envisaged when she said shopping. Charlie dragged her friend from one shop to another and there wasn’t a pair of jeans in sight.

‘Honestly, Charlie,’ Nikki expostulated. ‘This stuff is crazy.’ The shop Charlie had pushed her into was up-market and exclusive, dealing in everything from beautiful imported shoes and designer fashions to the most indulgent of lingerie. Nikki fingered the soft Swiss cotton of the dress her friend had just discovered. The frock was lovely, light and soft, with swirling green pastels which lit the brilliant red of Nikki’s hair. ‘I wouldn’t wear this in Eurong. It’d be wasted.’

‘Maybe yesterday you wouldn’t have worn it,’ her friend grinned. ‘But today…today Luke Marriott is your new locum. I wouldn’t be seen dead in anything less than this dress if Luke Marriott was in the vicinity. Honest, Nikki-’

‘Charlie, I am not the least bit interested in Luke Marriott,’ Nikki snapped.

‘You’re lying,’ Charlotte said simply. ‘My grandmother would look twice at Luke Marriott. And she’s been happily married to my grandfather for fifty years!’

‘Charlie-’

‘Look, just try it on,’ Charlie pleaded. She thrust the dress into Nikki’s hands and pushed her towards a changing-room. ‘You could even wear this to work-with a nice white coat over the top. It’s time you gave the bachelors of Eurong their money’s worth. I bet you charge top rates even when you wear your mouldy old jeans.’

Half laughing, half exasperated, Nikki gave in. She was fond of Charlie-in fact Charlotte Cain had been a true friend for a long time. It wouldn’t hurt to humour her. And these clothes-she fingered the soft cotton with a trace of regret-these clothes could join the rest of the things she had put away five years ago. Her mother’s jewellery. Her cosmetics. Her contact lenses. She looked up to her face and grimaced at the too heavy glasses. She knew she was being stupid wearing these but they were a defence against something she no longer wanted.