Christmas Nights. Sally Wentworth

watching over for her during the trial, but when Paris went to contact the companies to tell them that she was back she was informed that they preferred to deal with Emma in future.

      When Paris questioned her, Emma was most apologetic. ‘Oh, dear, did they really say that? I kept in contact with them as you asked and I was able to help them over some queries they had. In fact I had to visit all three of the companies to sort out the problems.’

      ‘Problems? There weren’t any problems.’

      ‘Well, they must have cropped up recently,’ Emma said with a vague wave of her hand. ‘But luckily I knew everything about the network systems involved so I was able to reassure them quickly. I thought that was what you would have wanted, Paris.’

      ‘Well, yes, of course, but—’

      ‘Maybe they realised I was more experienced,’ Emma suggested. ‘They’re new accounts; perhaps it gave them more confidence to deal with someone older. Why don’t you talk to the people involved, explain the situation?’ she suggested. ‘Although, of course, buyers do like to deal with just one person, not be messed around.’ She gave a worried frown. ‘We don’t want to lose the accounts, do we? If we did, the sales director would definitely want to know why. But you must go ahead and explain things to them, of course.’

      ‘No, as you said, we don’t want to lose them,’ Paris said slowly, reluctantly. ‘As long as it isn’t too much extra work for you.’

      ‘Oh, I can cope,’ Emma said with a smile. ‘But what a disappointment for you. Still, maybe you won’t care so much now you’re dating Will; you’ll be able to spend more time with him.’

      There was that, of course, but Paris went back to her office feeling unhappy and frustrated. Not only were those three accounts the most prestigious that she had won, they were also the most lucrative, and as she was paid only a small basic salary and depended on bonuses to make up her money it meant a considerable drop in income.

      If she had been able to go to the Brussels conference she might have generated some more work, but that too had gone to Emma, who, it seemed, had flown the company flag with some success. Paris tried not to be envious, but it was hard not to feel anger at a loss that was no fault of her own. That damn trial! But then she remembered that if it hadn’t been for that she would never have met Will.

      Her love affair, at least, was still going strongly. She and Will saw each other as often as possible and she often stayed overnight at his flat. The sex was just as good—better. He didn’t seem as if he would ever have enough of her and delighted in her body, just as she gloried in giving him pleasure.

      It wasn’t only the sexual side of the relationship that was good; Will was terrific company and Paris loved just being with him. He had a great sense of the ridiculous, often making her laugh—sometimes even when she was trying to be serious. Life with Will was not only exciting but fun as well.

      When they were apart her thoughts were full of him, and she would turn small things that happened to her into amusing anecdotes, anticipating with pleasure the way his eyes would fill with amusement as he laughed at them. Her feelings for him were growing ever deeper, far more so than anything she had ever experienced before, and she knew that she was in love.

      Paris felt pretty confident that Will felt the same way about her, and she was staying with him so often that she thought he might ask her to move in with him. But they hadn’t known each other very long yet so perhaps he felt it was too soon for that kind of commitment, because he didn’t ask her.

      Emma was still trying to be friendly with Will, even inviting him round to the flat to dinner, but Will still behaved distantly, maybe because Emma had coerced him into doing a few odd jobs around the place. She was pretty good at using people like that, putting on a ‘helpless little woman’ act to get people to do things for her, and would have used Paris the same way if Paris hadn’t seen through the act and resisted, pointing out that they were supposed to share the chores.

      A couple of months after the trial Paris went to a conference in Manchester for a few days. When she got back Emma regretfully told her that the rent on the flat had been increased quite substantially so she would, in turn, have to put Paris’s share up, naming a much higher sum.

      Paris looked at her with some dismay. ‘But I can’t possibly afford that much at the moment, Emma.’ Worriedly, she pushed her hair back from her head. She had managed to find one new customer but the income no way made up for what she had lost.

      ‘Well, I’m sorry, Paris. I wish I didn’t have to ask you, but this is quite a luxurious flat, you know.’

      ‘Yes, of course. I’ll—I’ll look round for somewhere else, then.’

      ‘All right. I’ll give you a month,’ Emma offered.

      Paris was taken aback; she hadn’t expected to have to leave so soon, and for a moment felt a surge of resentment; it surely wouldn’t have hurt Emma to let her take her time to find somewhere else? But Paris immediately felt ashamed; she had no idea of Emma’s financial circumstances or what the total rent of the flat was. Maybe Emma had been subsidising her all this while, although she, Paris, had always paid her share of the rent promptly, as well as half the bills, which hadn’t left a lot for herself.

      That evening she developed a headache—a really bad one—and had to cancel her date with Will.

      ‘You poor darling,’ he said sympathetically. ‘Would you like me to come round and stroke your brow?’

      ‘Would that be all you would stroke?’

      ‘Possibly not,’ he admitted.

      She chuckled but said, ‘Maybe you’d better not, then.’

      The headache got worse and, the following morning, was so bad that Emma had to drive them to work, and the elder girl advised her to see her doctor.

      ‘Oh, no, I’m sure it will soon go,’ Paris replied. ‘I don’t usually get headaches.’

      ‘You’re not pregnant, are you?’ Emma asked, giving her a swift glance.

      ‘No, definitely not.’

      ‘OK. OK. I only asked.’

      ‘Sorry, Emma,’ Paris said contritely. ‘But I am on the Pill; you know that.’

      The headache went away eventually but a few days later she had another that was even worse. ‘It sounds like a migraine to me,’ someone told her, and so she went to the chemist and got some pills to try and relieve it, and they helped.

      Out with Will one evening, he asked her to go to see a new film with him the following night, but she said, ‘I’m sorry, I can’t tomorrow.’

      ‘Got another date?’ he asked, raising his eyebrow. He was teasing; he was supremely confident that she wasn’t interested in anyone else, as he had the right to be.

      So he looked really surprised when she said, ‘Sort of. I’ve arranged to go and look at a bedsit.’

      His eyes settled on her face. ‘Is Emma throwing you out?’

      ‘No, but her rent has been put up and I can’t afford my share any more, not after losing those three accounts. She’s given me a month to find somewhere.’

      ‘Generous of her,’ Will commented wryly. He was silent for a moment, then said, ‘Maybe it will be better if you do leave; I don’t like you living with Emma.’

      She always liked to think that her friends would get on well together and Paris felt a little disappointed. But the animosity seemed to be mutual because only recently Emma had commented rather acidly, ‘Will may be incredible in bed, but his manners leave much to be desired. Still, if he suits you…’ And she had given an eloquent shrug.

      Paris had wanted to jump to Will’s defence, but held her tongue; the two of them had taken a dislike to each other and that was that.

      Looking at her now, Will gave a