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never confide in me!' He gave a wide smite and departed, and Caroline walked backstage slowly, mulling over what she had learned. Although Matthew Bishop was a womaniser, he had had sufficient conscience to make himself responsible for an orphaned twelve-year-old. It would be interesting to see if conscience made him fall for his ward's manoeuvring.
    Rehearsals for the dress show went on all morning and it was nearing two o'clock before Caroline and the other models were able to snatch a coffee break and a short rest before getting into their first change of clothes.
    Guests had already started to arrive, and the noise of their chatter could be heard backstage, together with the smell of expensive cigars and perfume. There was always a fair sprinkling of men in attendance: husbands or boy-friends of the rich women who made the rounds of the fashion shows and charity affairs in an effort to stave off the emptiness of their lives.
    Still, if she had not had to work she might have been one of the so-called idle rich; doing her share of good works between enjoying herself. Yet somehow Caroline doubted it. She had always enjoyed exercising her mind and knew she needed the challenge of a job to give purpose to her life.
    The sound of the latest hit record started, and she hurried to change into her first outfit, a white silk suit worn over a scarlet blouse. Each girl had a rail behind her with the clothes she was to model, and after each change the designer and hairdresser came over to ensure that their creation had not been disturbed.
    As Caroline waited at the side of the stage for the opening bars that would herald her entrance, she cast another quick glance at the audience. Because of the bright lights she could only see those close to the stage, but her attention was caught by a young girl in the second row, who was carrying on an animated conversation with the man beside her. Caroline could not see his face as his head was turned towards his companion, who was exceptionally pretty, with dark hair, cut boyishly short and swept back off her face in feathery layers. Her heart-shaped face with rather pouting lips gave her an air of voluptuousness, which was further confirmed by the outline of her figure, clearly visible in its form-fitting dress.
    'You're on!' a voice hissed in Caroline's ear, and making her mind a blank, she glided on to the stage.
    To the audience it seemed that no one could be cooler than these beautiful young girls as they paraded the exquisite clothes. But backstage it was a different story. Buttons snapped, hooks and eyes refused to meet, and accessories mysteriously vanished. Tempers rose and exploded as the seamstress made last-minute adjustments, frequently sewing the girls into their dresses.
    It was near to bedlam as they all came out dressed for the finale. Caroline with her silver-blonde hair was the ideal choice for the bride, and knew that the floating silk organza dress emphasised the subtle curves of her slender figure.
    They paraded to 'A Pretty Girl is Like a Melody', and as they took their last turn and came to a halt, Caroline found herself directly in line with the lovely young girl she had been watching earlier. But this time it was the man who caught her attention, for his dark eyes, marked by heavy brows, seemed to be locked on hers with an intensity that sent an electric current through her. She shivered and had the uncomfortable feeling that he was aware of the effect he was having on her. The girl behind nudged her to move, and she turned and sauntered towards the back of the stage, resisting the urge to pick up her skirts and run. Only as she reached the safety of backstage did she breathe a sigh of relief and try to collect her turbulent thoughts.
    Who was the man to whom she had been so instantly attracted? It had been mutual, she was sure, because he had been willing her to catch his eyes.
    'Don't stand there dreaming,' someone ordered her. 'I've got to pack that wedding