Chapter 10: Front Row

I wore the red wool.

Imogen met me at the back door of the Harlow library and looked me over from boots to collar.

"Dangerous," she said. "Good."

"I feel sick."

"That's what the red is for."

The main hall was packed. I could hear it through the curtain, three hundred people shifting in folding chairs, murmuring.

I looked through the gap.

The front row was full of silver hair and good coats, eight women in a straight line with their handbags in their laps.

Philippa sat in the middle, smiling at the stage.

At the very back, standing against the wall, were Declan and Roz.

They had come separately. They stood a careful arm's length apart.

Both of them were watching the curtain.

"Ready?" Imogen asked.

"No."

"Go anyway."

I walked out.

The applause was warm and loud. Eight women in the front row clapped politely, with their gloves on.

I read from chapter four, the part where my heroine finds the key under the stair.

My voice stayed steady. I had read that scene a hundred times.

Then Imogen came up to the stand for questions.

A woman in the second row put up her hand before Imogen finished asking.

She wore pearls. She was holding a card.

"Miss Anson," she said. "Your books are so much about love that lasts. Is your own marriage as happy as the ones you write?"

The hall went quiet.

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