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shops. It’s just that I hate seeing good money drift away.’

What she didn’t say and what she had never told him was that she had an ingrained mistrust of all banks, dating from the time her father had left his family penniless. Because of it, she’d developed her own way of saving, vowing never to be put in such a position ever again. She did bank money, of course, but more for those day-to-day transactions that business demanded. It was Simon who took charge of the greater proportion of their finances, their business having been his in the first place.

He would go on gambling on the stock exchange and relying on banks for credit. It seemed to work and maybe her way was strange for someone in her position, but beneath the floorboards under the carpet in the corner of their spare bedroom was a small, locked metal box that was becoming ever more tightly packed with large, neatly folded bank notes, just in case something awful should happen.

She had never told Simon how much was in there and he had never asked, merely smiling tolerantly at her strange habit. Of course, such an emergency as she feared would never arise but in a small way it gave her a feeling of security and helped to assuage the gnawing fear of a rainy day should Simon ever go the way of her father. He was too astute ever to let that happen. Nevertheless, it was better to be safe.

In the back room, all was chaos. Her creations were draped on hangers ready for the three models to change garments in split seconds, step into and buckle their shoes, change accessories and refresh their make-up before stepping out on to the catwalk. Out there in her modest showroom all was serene; gentle music, the quiet murmur of voices, appreciative applause from a few dozen invited buyers and a general audience.

Julia stood behind the blue curtains watching Ginny’s measured walk, her movements leisurely and artistic, her head poised elegantly on her slender neck. At the end of the catwalk she turned confidently to retrace her footsteps, smiling gently at this person and that, no sign of hurry, no nerves; she was a confident and beautiful young woman, unafraid before all those eyes.

There came a small burst of applause as Ginny reached the curtains to be replaced by one of the other models. Julia had worked hard for weeks to get this show together and it looked as if it was paying off. She felt exhausted but thoroughly rewarded.

‘Marvellous, Ginny, as always,’ she whispered as Ginny passed her.

Giving Julia a bright smile she hurried to where Betty waited with another garment for her, ready to be pulled this way and that, in several directions at once, in order to get the dress and its accessories just right, all in seconds.

It was an effort for Julia to tear her glance away from her sister to follow the next girl. The others too were lovely girls, tall and slender, but Ginny was the most beautiful. Sometimes the men, young and old and mostly from the fashion world, would eye her a little too long and closely for Julia s piece of mind. But Ginny hardly gave them a glance which was just as well. She seemed to have no wish to settle down, loving her life as a model, and after all she was still only twenty, wouldn’t be twenty-one until November. There was plenty of time for her to put her mind to courting, though Ginny certainly enjoyed life, going to evening parties, to Wimbledon for the tennis tournaments, to cocktail and garden parties, and often driving out into the country with a group of friends. Lately she’d taken up cycling, going miles out of London exploring country lanes and country pubs, with a group of young men and women.

As a model she was slowly becoming well known and even had her picture in Style, one of the topmost fashion magazines, and had made scores of friends. But Julia couldn’t help feeling responsible for her youngest sister, and was anxious that her success should not go to her head.

What if her head were suddenly turned by the wrong man? Stephanie had been caught like that, and Stephanie had been a woman of the world, or so Julia had thought. Julia could only hope that Ginny wouldn’t make the same mistake. Though if she did there was little that she, even as Ginny’s elder sister, could do about it other than keep an eye out for her and pray.

Everything seemed to be building up all at once as summer gave way to autumn.

Last March James and Caroline had announced the date of their wedding, Saturday the sixth of October. With only seven weeks to go, Julia was finding it difficult to get on with her own work, having to design and make the wedding dress as well as bridesmaids’ dresses for Ginny and Caroline’s sister Amy.

Then on Sunday Ginny brought a young man home whom she boldly introduced as Robert Middleton. ‘He’s proposed to me,’ she announced, her eyes alight with joy. ‘And I have accepted. We want to go out during the week to choose the engagement ring. You will give us your blessings, won’t you?’

Shocked by the suddenness of the announcement, her mind frill of suspicious thoughts, Julia quickly took her sister aside. But before she could get a word in, Ginny had burst out excitedly, ‘His family live near Chingford, his father’s business is based not far away and Robert is a partner.’

Changing tack, she said, ‘He looks a little bit older than you.’ She wanted to say he looked a lot older but hadn’t the heart. But before she could say more, Ginny was off again.

‘He’s older only by about eight years. That’s nothing. We met in one of those country pubs when a few of us were out cycling up that way. It was one of those places

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