“New York?” Caroline said, her sensible side coming to the fore. “Won’t that be awfully expensive? You’d have to stay there for a while.”

“It will be worth it, Cara. Just think, if I win, we’ve got it made. And even if I don’t win, I’ll be noticed. I might get offers, start my own line.”

He put his hands on her shoulders, squeezing hard. “I can’t go on like this any longer. Working for someone else, designing white shirts, for God’s sake. I’m dying inside. Shrivelling up. You must see that.”

“And what about me?” she wanted to ask. “Do you think that my job is what I dreamed of when we were in art school? I had as much talent as you, and yet you were the one who got the job with a fashion house . . . and I was the one who got pregnant.”

She had met Josh on their first day in the fashion design programme at St Martin’s. He was daring, with long dark hair, a cape and flashing eyes. Quite different from the solid boys she had met at school dances. She had been blown away when he sat beside her in class, whispered something irreverent in her ear and then suggested they get a cup of coffee together. They had been inseparable ever since. He was fiercely talented, she realized. But his talent was uncontrolled, and a bit over the top. Caroline also had talent, the teachers said. A flair for line and colour, a bright future ahead. But by graduation day, she had discovered she was pregnant.

Josh had professed his love for her and said that he wanted to do this “as a team.” And they had married right away. He had taken a job with a commercial fashion house, designing for mass market, high street. She had stayed home after Teddy was born, until financial need forced her to find a job—as an editorial assistant at a women’s magazine. It was below her qualifications, but it helped pay the bills.

“Look at us,” Josh went on. “We can just afford to rent a place in London. No chance to save for a house of our own, to pay for a good school for Teddy. You’re not going to inherit anything from your family; neither am I. It’s all up to me, Cara. I’ve got to do it, even if it means borrowing from the bank.”

She knew in her heart that he was right. They were only surviving, and Josh was becoming increasingly discontent with domestic life. And then he was gone. His phone calls from New York had been ecstatic. The contest judges loved his designs. He was a finalist! But then . . . he came in second place. Caroline expected a moment of disappointment and to console him when he returned home. The next day another phone call turned things in a completely different direction.

“You’ll never guess what has happened, Cara. Never in a million years. It’s a miracle—”

“For God’s sake, tell me,” she interrupted.

“You know the singer Desiree?”

“The pop star with the wild fashion sense and wilder hair?”

“She’s really quite magnetic and generous in person,” he said. “Anyway, she saw the fashion show, and she wants me to design the wardrobe for her upcoming tour. Can you believe it? She wants me to stay in New York for a while so she can collaborate on the designs with me.” When Caroline said nothing, he continued, “Are you still there? Go on, say something. Aren’t you happy for me?”

“Of course I’m happy,” she said, but she didn’t mean it. What about their son? Josh hadn’t even mentioned Teddy. What about her? “It’s just . . . I’ll miss you, of course.”

“And I’ll miss you too, you idiot. But this is just the start of good things; I know it.”

Caroline tried to be excited and happy, but worries crept in. What if Josh wanted them to move to New York? How would she feel about that? And what about school for Teddy? He was only six, but soon he’d need a good education.

Josh phoned almost daily—Desiree’s penthouse was amazing. He was working with the best team ever. She should see the incredible things he was designing. She’d be so proud of him.

Then the phone calls became much less frequent.

“So haven’t you finished the tour wardrobe yet?” she asked when she telephoned him for once. “Isn’t it about time you came home?”

“Ah, here’s the thing.” He coughed, something he always did when nervous. “You see, Desiree wants me on the tour with her. In case something isn’t working or needs changing. It’s only another month, but it’s really worth it.”

Caroline knew, even before she saw the picture in the tabloids, that something had gone really wrong. Desiree Duncan with her new “main squeeze,” fashion designer Josh Grant, enjoying a Miami nightclub. Then the inevitable phone call.

“I’m sorry, Cara, but I’m not coming back. I have come to realize that I was trapped in a marriage I never really wanted in the first place. I have always cared about you, but you never made me feel . . . the way she does. I feel alive for the first time in years. Alive and hopeful and doing what I want to do. Don’t worry. I’ll do my share, make sure Teddy is paid for and goes to a good school. I’ll be a good dad. I love him.”

After that came the letter from an American lawyer. Divorce conditions. Joint custody of Teddy. Alimony and child support. Josh was being reasonable and fair, the lawyer said. He understood that Teddy’s schooling should not be disturbed, so he’d confine visits to America to the school holidays. He’d have Teddy for the summer, and for Christmas and Easter.