Edge of Paradise by Dorothy Vernon

Catherine’s protests to one side.
    â€˜Buy this one, Cat. It won’t crush in your suitcase. No, no, no,
Catherine!
This one will defy passing fashion whims—how can you say it’s expensive when it will last you forever? Oh, you’ll make a grand entrance in this.’ She held up a soft, floating chiffon in subtle shadings of every blue imaginable, including the sapphire blue of Catherine’s eyes. ‘Yes, Cat, I know what you’re thinking. But every girl is surely allowed one bit of frivolity, and it’s so
you
.’
    â€˜You’re right. I must be frivolous to let you talk me into it. And why have I bought all this beach wear? This is supposed to be a working assignment. No, not supposed to be,
is
.’
    But the holiday feeling persisted.
    She decided to give up her small apartment. She felt that it would be too extravagant to keep it and pay rent for even a short period, and anyway, it would give her the impetus to find a better place when she returned. She rented it fully furnished, so she didn’t have the problem of putting a lot of bulky furniture into storage. Ally volunteered to give a safe home to her bits and pieces, the pretty trivia she’d picked up to make her place more homelike, until she could take possession again.
    There were some things she couldn’t bear to part with for even a short time, and these she packed into her suitcase: a handful of treasured photographs; a falling-to-pieces rag doll called Belinda; her mother’s very last gift to her, the brush and comb set, complete with its own matching mirror.
    She wrapped the mirror carefully and made a nest for it between her clothes. She gave her hair a final brush, resting the ivory back against her cheek for a tender moment before tucking the hairbrush into her suitcase.
    Her eyes were bright, but her expression was determined as she closed the lid. Even so, nostalgia bit deep as she silently mouthed: Goodbye old life . . . hello new . . .

CHAPTER FOUR
    She had given her suitcase into the care of the airport authorities for it to be loaded onto the plane, said goodbye to Ally and little Samantha, promised to send a card to let them know that she’d arrived safely, and now walked through to the departure lounge to wait for her flight number to be called.
    She glanced idly at the other passengers waiting to embark. They were mostly holiday makers, it seemed, families. Here and there she saw a more soberly dressed lone traveler wearing that distinctive air of business as if it were an extra garment. And there was one eye-catching female, also on her own, who looked as though she could have done with an extra garment—a jacket, for instance, to cover a skimpy top that would have looked better on a beach than in the busy lounge of an international airport. The top was outrageously if fittingly teamed with the tightest pair of trousers imaginable.
    Catherine’s eyes lingered a moment longer, almost in horrified fascination, not quite dismissing the woman as a brash blonde, guessing instinctively that the girl would have a nature as generous as her body, which would have been superb in the right clothes. Strangely, because Ally was stick-slender and would only have come up to the other woman’s shoulders and they didn’t share one similar feature, she reminded Catherine of Ally. Both gave out the same waves of electric animation—nothing done in moderation, no half measures. That was how Ally had been before Ray’s death left her lost and disoriented, and how she had been the last few days, showing such unselfish delight in helping Catherine to get organized for this trip.
    For once there was no frustrating delay and they boarded the plane on time. Predictable. Paul Hebden would be there to meet her at the other end, and anything he had a finger in wouldn’t dare to be subjected to life’s petty irritations.
    She was shown to a window seat. Lovely! Had he arranged