She dialled his number and got his Call Minder and left a message asking him to call for her at eight o’clock the following evening.

Her depression once more lifted, she went upstairs and had a bath and went to bed. She had left her hair pinned up, but as she lay on her hot pillow the pins bored into her head. At last she rose and took all the pins out and went back to bed, tossing and turning all night in the suffocating heat. Thunder rolled and the rain came down about two in the morning but did nothing to freshen the air.

When she rose in the morning, it was to find her hair was a disaster, damp with heat, and dishevelled with all the tossing about.

As soon as she knew the salon would be open, she phoned Mr. John’s receptionist to see if she could have an appointment for that day. “I am so sorry, Mrs. Raisin,” said the receptionist on a rather smug note. “Mr. John is fully booked.”

“Put him on.”

“I beg your parding?”

“I said let me talk to him… now!”

“Oh, very well.”

“Agatha!” Mr. John welcomed her like an old friend.

“I’ve got a dinner date and my hair is a wreck. Could you possibly fit me in?”

“I would like to help you out. Let me see. Give me the book, Josie.”

There was a rustling of pages and then he came back on the phone. “You had your hair washed yesterday, so what I could do is just put it in rollers and then pin it up, but it would need to be five o’clock.”

Agatha thought quickly. She would have plenty of time to get her hair done, get back home and washed and changed in time for Charles. “Lovely,” she said. “I’ll be there.”

She then went up to the bedroom and swung open the doors of the wardrobe. What to wear? There was that little black dress she hadn’t worn since Cyprus. He had liked it. She tried it on. It hung loose on her body. How odd, thought Agatha, that depression could do so effectively what all those diets and exercise had not. She had lost weight.