The rest of the week was difficult for Susan. She'd telephoned Karen early the morning after Louise's arrival to ask if she and Simon had made up their quarrel and come to any kind of compromise.

'No, we haven't,' Karen snapped. 'Simon is adamant that I turn down the job and stay at home with Peter until he's five. That's another two whole years of sheer drudgery and boredom. If it wasn't for Louise, we'd still have Adrey and I'd still be teaching. And if you hadn't been so careless and stupid yesterday, I'd have been home long before Simon and I'd have dealt with things in the way I'd planned.'

'Please don't speak to me like that, Karen. I am neither stupid nor careless and if you want to know, I think it's a mistake, going behind Simon's back like that.'

'Well, when I want your opinion, Mum, I'll ask for it and I'm sorry but I'm afraid I do think you're careless, putting Peter in danger like that. And as for letting Louise come and stay again after all she's done well, words fail me!'

'I think there have been times when you've been quite happy to forget my so-called careless stupidity,' Susan said.

'Yes? Well, thanks for rubbing it in! You can safely believe that those days are over,' Karen snapped. 'I won't be asking for your help any more!' And there was an ear-splitting crash as she slammed the receiver down.

She'd only just replaced the receiver when the phone rang. It was Simon.

'Susan I'm ringing to apologize for the scene I made at your flat yesterday.'

'It's all right, Simon. I understand. You were upset and I do sympathize with both of you.'

'That's your trouble, Susan,' he replied. 'You're far too understanding. But as I said, I'm sorry. I just lost it and I shouldn't have said what I did.'

'Well, as you've brought the subject up, Simon, you didn't mind leaving Peter with me while you and Karen went to Paris.'

'No, I know and I'm deeply ashamed of letting my temper get the better of me.' There was a pause then he said, 'Look, Susan, don't think I'm interfering but you really shouldn't have allowed Louise back after what happened last time. She is at the root of all this mess we're in now.'

'I know but I couldn't see her without a roof to her head, could I?'

'Well, it's your decision, of course. Anyway, I'm sure you know that I didn't mean any of those things I said and I hope you'll accept my apology.'

'Of course, it's already forgotten. Thank you for ringing, Simon.' She put down the phone with a heavy heart. She'd tried to please everybody and finished up pleasing no one and landing herself in the middle of a row.

In the days that followed, Karen would have nothing to do with her. Every time Susan tried to ring her she'd refused to pick up. As for Louise, she was as untidy and disorganized as ever. Susan gave up trying to tidy up or do any housework. She was a little disturbed by the nightmares that Louise obviously had. On several occasions, she had been awakened in the early hours by her stepdaughter's loud sleep-talking. She wondered if it had anything to do with her broken romance, which she'd already guessed had upset Louise more than she would admit. She'd had a lot of calls on her mobile during the week, but she hadn't taken any of them. Had they been from the disloyal boyfriend? she wondered. Clearly she was upset about something.

It was the night before Louise's visit was over and she and Susan were sitting together in the living room, when Louise suddenly turned to her stepmother. 'Susan there's something I need to tell you.'

'Yes, dear?' Susan looked up from the little sweater she was knitting for Peter. 'What's that?'

'I found my mother.'

Susan's gla.s.ses slipped to the end of her nose as she looked up in surprise. 'You found her how?'

'The Salvation Army found her for me actually. They arranged a meeting and we met for tea at one of the big stores in London. She told me that she'd married again after she and Dad split up and they had another child; a boy well, man now. He's called Steven.'

'So you have a half-brother. That's interesting. Is she happy?'

'No. Her husband was is a criminal. He's in prison and she's divorced him. I was disappointed, Susan. Frankly, I didn't like her. I didn't like her son either. He telephoned me and I found his manner quite nasty almost menacing.'

Susan dropped the knitting into her lap and took off her gla.s.ses. 'Oh, Louise!'

'The trouble is that I told her too much. She asked about Dad and when she knew he'd died, she wanted to know what was in his will.'

'And you told her?'

'I got a bit carried away at seeing her again after all the years.' She hesitated. 'I told her about the play too and my big breakthrough. She obviously got the impression that I'm rolling in cash because before we parted, she asked me for money.'

'Oh dear. I'm afraid you've rushed things a bit too much.'

'You can say that again! The thing is, will she let it go at that or is she going to be constantly on my case? What can I do?'

Susan considered for a moment. Privately, she wondered if all that had been the cause of Louise's troubled dreams. 'Well, you'll be away on tour for some time, won't you? After that, maybe she'll have forgotten.'

Louise sighed. If only it were as simple as that. Susan didn't know the half of it. And because she'd been economical with the truth, she couldn't press it any further.

She left the following morning. Susan saw her off gratefully, longing to get her hands on the hoover and dusters. How could one person make such a shambles of the place?

'Don't forget that I intend to be there on your opening night,' she called as Louise ran down to her waiting taxi. 'I'm going to try to persuade Karen to come too, but I'll be there even if she isn't. Good luck, Louise!'

'Thanks, Susan. Goodbye and thanks for having me.' Louise forced a smile that vanished as soon as she climbed into the taxi. They'd all have to know about her catastrophe before too long and how would she face them all then?

'Where to, missus?' the taxi driver enquired.

She sighed, recognizing that she didn't even qualify for 'miss' any more.

'To the train station, please,' she told him.

She settled back in her seat. Back to a grotty bedsit in the East End, she reminded herself with a sigh. Back to G.o.d only knew what!

Chapter Twenty-One.

The bedsit under the eaves looked more depressing than ever after the cosiness of Susan's flat. The weather had suddenly warmed up and when I unlocked the door, the stuffiness and odours left by the previous tenant hit me like a wave; a mixture of stale sweat, unwashed clothes and several dozen takeaway meals. By the stench that still hung about the room like a fog, most of them had been curries. I hurriedly crossed the room and threw the window open wide, making a mental note to buy a can of air freshener next time I went to the shops.

It was only when I turned back to close the door that I saw the note that had obviously been pushed under the door. I slipped a finger under the envelope flap and pulled out a single sheet of lined paper, obviously torn from a cheap notebook. My heart plummeted. It clearly wasn't from Mark, not that I expected it, after refusing all his calls. He'd surely have to give up soon.

There was no address on the note and the handwriting was barely readable. The spelling was atrocious too but the message was only too plain.

Deer Louise. Sorry you an me coodnt meet up. Yor landlord sais you are c.u.min bak so Ill giv you a bell soon. Yor luvvin bruther, Steve.

I ran downstairs and tapped on the landlord's door. He answered it looking as though he'd only just got up. He wore jeans and a grubby singlet and his greasy hair was tied back in a ponytail. He blinked at me blearily. 'Yeah?'

I held out the envelope. 'How did this come to be pushed under my door?' I asked him. 'I've been away so how did he manage to get in?'

He peered at the envelope. 'Oh, yeah,' he said. 'That was a couple of days ago. When he couldn't get you, he rang my bell and asked me to give you that.'

'Right. Well, if he turns up here again don't let him in, OK?' How on earth had he found out where I lived? My stomach lurched with apprehension as I turned back towards the staircase.

'That's all right,' he called after me. 'Don't thank me, will you. I'm not your bleedin' butler snotty cow!'

I carried on up the stairs without a backward glance. What did he do for the rent he charged anyway?

I hardly slept at all that night. The bed was lumpy and lop-sided and the sun burning down on the roof all day had made the heat and the overpowering smells unbearable. The thought that Steve Harris had tracked me down kept me awake too. If only I hadn't chosen to stay on at the same address!

I was up early, down the street to the supermarket to stock up with food and air freshener. By the time I got back I reckoned that Harry would be in his office so I took out my phone and clicked on his number. To my surprise he answered himself.

'Harry Clay Theatrical Agency.'

'Harry, it's Louise. I've just got back from a week away. I've been expecting a call from you. What have you got for me?'

At the other end of the line I heard him sigh. 'I've tried, Lou, but I told you, there's nothing going in your line at the moment. The summer shows are all booked and there's nothing else suitable.'

'So what do you suggest I do? I'm sure I don't have to remind you that I've been conned out of a job and most of my money. You owe it to me to find me something, Harry.'

'Look, Lou, I'll be frank with you. I'm winding the agency up. I'm past retiring age and I've had enough. I've already let Sally go.'

'I see, so the rat is leaving the sinking ship, is he?' I snapped. 'I've a b.l.o.o.d.y good mind to sue you.'

'Go ahead,' he said wearily. 'You can't get blood out of a stone. I'm sure I don't have to remind you that I'm in the same position as you. Look, I know it's tough but my blood pressure has gone sky high and my doctor says I'm heading for a heart attack. My wife has put her foot down. This business with Fortune has just about finished me. It's time to pack it in and that's what I'm doing.'

'It's all right for you, Harry, but-' Before I could complete the sentence he'd hung up, leaving me listening to the dialling tone. I hit the red b.u.t.ton in disgust. What the h.e.l.l was I going to do now? I'd soon get through the little money I had left. I had to earn some cash somehow. I clicked on my list of contacts. There was only one name on the list that would sympathize. I highlighted Mark's number but my pride refused to let me press the call b.u.t.ton.

For a long time I sat on the bed, despair washing over me like an all-engulfing tide. Why couldn't something go right for me? What had I done to deserve all this bad luck? I got up eventually and opened the suitcase containing most of my clothes, as yet unpacked. It was hardly an haute couture collection. It made me angry to think of the lovely things I could have bought, if only I hadn't blown all my inheritance on Paul b.l.o.o.d.y Fortune and his G.o.dforsaken play. I hung everything up and examined each garment critically. Nothing looked fashionable or smart. I had to admit that even the Chanel suit was beginning to look a bit shabby as I pulled at a loose b.u.t.ton. Suddenly I made up my mind. If I was going to get myself a new agent, I was going to have to look a bit less down at heel. I'd go up west today and buy myself a few nice things to wear with some of the cash I'd got left. They wouldn't be designer but I'd always had a good eye and the summer sales were just beginning. I might find some bargains. I'd get my hair done too. It would be a good investment.

First, I trawled my list of agents. As I'd expected, none of them would see me there and then, so I left a copy of my photos and profile along with my mobile number, then I took the Tube to Oxford Street. I bought a cla.s.sic suit, a casual skirt, a jacket and three tops. I also found some really elegant shoes and a handbag, all at reduced prices, then I sat in the best hairdresser's I could afford for most of the afternoon, having my roots done and my hair cut and blow-dried.

It was while I was walking to the Tube station that I pa.s.sed a bridal shop and a tiny card in the corner of the window caught my eye.

a.s.sistant wanted.

I stood looking into the window at the beautiful designer bridal gown displayed for some time. It was unusual for a shop of this calibre to advertise in this way. I was intrigued. Eventually, I pushed the door and was immediately surprised by the tinny notes of Mendelssohn's Wedding March. As I walked into the shop I was trying not to laugh. A stylishly dressed woman of about fifty approached me.

'Can I help you?'

I took a deep breath. 'I've just noticed your advertis.e.m.e.nt in the window,' I said. 'It so happens that I'm looking for work.'

She looked me up and down critically. 'Do you have retail experience?'

I treated her to my best smile. 'I'm actually an actress,' I told her. 'But I have often taken retail work when I've been between engagements as I am now.' It wasn't strictly true of course but I hoped she'd swallow it.

'In that case you'll have references.'

Trying not to look taken aback, I shook my head. 'All the jobs were temporary, of course. But they were all in the fashion trade,' I added quickly. 'I do have quite a flair for fashion; being an actress it's all part of the training.'

'This is a designer boutique,' she said. 'I design most of the gowns, although I do stock a few low-budget dresses.' She appraised me again. 'As it happens, I only need temporary help at the moment, so this might very well suit us both.' She eyed my outfit doubtfully. 'I take it you own a smart black dress or suit?'

'Naturally.' I made a mental note to give the Chanel suit a good sponge and press and get the loose b.u.t.ton firmly sewn on. I looked at her. 'What salary are you offering?'

She named a figure that was ludicrous. I shook my head. 'I'm afraid I'd need twice that,' I told her. 'London rents don't come cheap and if you want me to look smart ...'

'All right, I agree,' she said, throwing me completely. 'When can you start?'

'Well tomorrow if you like.'

She nodded. 'As you can see, I'm on my own here at the moment so I really do need help and quickly,' she said. 'Which is why I put the notice in the window. Normally I'd advertise in the usual way.'

'That would suit me. What time would you like me to be here?' I asked.

'Be here at eight, then I'll be able to show you around and explain our routine.'

I walked out of the shop feeling really cheered up. I'd get back onto my feet in no time, I told myself.

But on the Tube on the way back to the horrible bedsit, the spectre of Steve Harris and his threat to get back in touch reared its ugly head. I couldn't stay on in that room like a sitting duck, just waiting for him to come and find me again. Besides, Stoke Newington was an awfully long way from the new job. A sudden thought hit me and I took out my phone and called Dianne. She'd be home from work by now. She could always say no.

She answered the call almost immediately. Clearly she'd deleted my number from her phone because she didn't know who was calling.

'h.e.l.lo?'

'Di, it's me, Lou,' I said. 'Long time no see. How are you?'

'I'm fine and you?'

She sounded a tiny bit frosty so I turned on the charm. 'I've really missed you, Di,' I said. 'I hated the way we parted company last time. Any chance I could pop in and see you some time soon?'

She hesitated. 'Aren't you busy with the new play? I'd have thought you'd be on tour by now.'

'It's a long story,' I told her. 'Actually it all fell through in quite a spectacular way. I'd love to tell you all about it. Look, I'm working in the West End at the moment. Any chance I could come and see you after work tomorrow?'

'Yes, OK then,' she said. I knew I'd have aroused her curiosity. 'Though I won't be able to make an evening of it. I have to go out later.'

'That's all right.' I paused. 'How is Mike?'

'Fine I suppose.' There was a long pause at the other end then she said. 'I'll tell you all my news when we meet. Around six, OK?'

'Fine, look forward to it.'

I returned to the dreadful bedsit that evening, feeling much better. I was just tucking into my microwave meal for one when my phone rang. It was an unfamiliar number. Could it be a call from one of the agents already? Full of optimism, I clicked the green b.u.t.ton.

'h.e.l.lo. Louise Delmar speaking.'

'h.e.l.lo, darlin'. Little brother Steve here. How are you all right?'

'Leave me alone,' I snapped, my good mood evaporating instantly. 'Look, there's no point in you ringing me. I don't want to meet you, so please don't ring me or write any more notes.'

'Oh, now is that nice?'

'Frankly, I don't care whether you think it's nice or not,' I said. 'Just go away!'