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`You could say that. Every time I open a cupboard I half expect a leftover bunny girl to come tumbling out.'

`I can help you pick out new stuff,' Miranda exclaimed. `Honestly, I'm brilliant at that. I should have been an interior designer.'

`Oh right, have my new wallpaper chosen by someone with green and blue hair. Great idea,' said Fenn. He raised his eyebrows at Chloe. `Help me out here, will you? Think of a way of saying no without hurting her feelings.'

`But I would be brilliant,' Miranda protested. `I would I would I would!'

`No,' Fenn mimicked her pleading tones. `No no no.'

`He'll hire a professional designer,' Chloe explained soothingly. It was the kind of thing rich people did.

`I will not,' said Fenn with a shudder. `They always go miles over the top and you're never allowed to want anything normal.'

Miranda, losing interest since she clearly wasn't going to be allowed to help, said, `I'm starving. Anyone else for a crisp sandwich?'

As soon as she had disappeared into the kitchen, Fenn sat forward and said, `So how's she been with you?'

`Bright and cheerful on the outside, quiet on the inside.' Florence blew a stream of smoke rings. `Like a Kunzle cake.'

Fenn nodded. `Same as at work.'

`She stays in every night,' said Chloe.

`Pretending everything's fine.' Florence stubbed out her cigarette. `When what she should be doing is getting out

there and having fun. That's what Miranda really needs, of course. A new man to take her mind off the old one.'

The way Florence's lip curled at this reference to Greg reminded Fenn of something else that had been puzzling him.

`Why hasn't Danny shown her the wedding video yet? I asked Miranda and she said she hadn't seen it.'

`She didn't want to,' Chloe explained. `He brought it round here and Miranda went out. We watched it,' she went on cheerfully. `It was brilliant.'

`The question is, which of them couldn't Miranda face?' Florence's tone was arch. `The video, or Danny Delancey?'

Fenn had finished his Guinness. He glanced at his watch.

`I'd better be off. The faster I clear the packing crates out of my sitting room, the sooner I can rip up the zebra-print carpet.' He glanced at Chloe. `How are you at picking out what goes with what? I've spent the weekend up to my ears in colour charts and wallpaper samples. I could use a second opinion,' he said easily. `So long as it isn't Miranda' s.'

Startled, Chloe said, `I'm not an expert.'

`I told you, I don't want an expert. An expert would insist on magenta ceilings, turquoise marble-effect walls and rag-rolled festoon blinds with bloody bows on. All I want is something normal.' Fenn shrugged. `That won't give me a headache.'

Reassured, Chloe began to nod.

`Well, I can probably manage normal. If you're-'

`There you go!' With an air of triumph, Miranda clattered two plates of leaking sandwiches on to the table. `Smoky bacon with barbeque sauce, roast chicken and mayonnaise,cheese and onion with ketchup.' She beamed. `Eat them before they go soggy.'

`And she wonders why I don't want her to redecorate my flat,' said Fenn. He rose to his feet and eyed Miranda severely. `Eight o'clock tomorrow morning. On the dot.'

Miranda nodded, her mouth crammed with wonderfully crunchy sandwich. For some reason she was the only one eating. Honestly, some people had no sense of adventure.

`How about you?' Fenn turned to Chloe. `Six-ish, tomorrow evening?'

`Fine.'

Hey-up, thought Miranda, secret assignations being arranged behind my back - what's this all about?

`That's discrimination,' she protested. `How come she gets six-ish and I get on-the-dot?'

`Because Chloe's doing me a favour, and I'm doing you one.'

In a flash, Miranda knew what the other favour was. `Oh, that is so mean,' she wailed. `You've asked Chloe to help you choose new stuff for your flat.'

`Perhaps we could both help,' suggested Chloe, embarrassed.

`No you bloody well could not.' Fenn was firm. `It's my flat and I'll ask who I want.'

`But-'

`No begging, no emotional blackmail,' he told Miranda.