ALMOST two years later, Hope sat in a fashionable London cafe waiting for her friend Vanessa's arrival. Her thoughts were miles away and centred entirely on Andreas. She was dreamily wondering how she could best celebrate the second anniversary of that first eventful meeting. By seeking out a snow-bound barn? That would not be a good idea, she conceded with a grin. Andreas disliked inconvenience, cold and, indeed, had a very low tolerance threshold for any form of discomfort.

'Sorry I'm late.' A slim redhead with sharp but attractive features and bright brown eyes sank down into the seat opposite and settled a heavy camera case down. 'If that hair of yours grows any longer,' she remarked, surveying the pale blonde hair Hope wore secured at her nape but which reached halfway to her waist, 'people are going to start wondering if you've got Rapunzel fantasies.'

Hope blinked. 'I beg your pardon?'

'You know… the lady in the fairy tale who got locked up in the tower and let her long hair down to be used as a ladder to rescue her,' Vanessa clarified. 'Only unfortunately for her, it wasn't the handsome prince who climbed up, it was the witch. Be warned.'

Hope laughed and they ordered coffee. She was accustomed to her more sophisticated friend's cynical outlook on life. The daughter of a famous artist, Vanessa had survived a Bohemian and unstable childhood to become a gifted photographer. But the redhead still bore the scars inflicted by parents who had enjoyed tempestuous love lives.

'So, how is your handsome prince?' Vanessa enquired a tinge dryly.

Hope was impervious to that tone and her eyes sparkled. 'Andreas is great. Very busy, of course, but he phones me a lot when he's out of the country-'

'A mobile phone being Andreas's equivalent of a ball and chain,' her friend mocked. 'I seem to recall that if you switch it off he wants an explanation in triplicate. '