Cream sheath-like dress, wearing three inch cream strappyheels and clutching a co-ordinated handbag. And entering the cafe besideher was my tormentor ... Emma Reid.I looked up in panic, flustered, and nearly dropped the plates I wascarrying over to table number nine. Emma would recognise me obviously,but what of Jill? What would she see? An anonymous waitress in a FrenchMaid style uniform, or her missing boyfriend?Emma caught sight of me quickly enough and curled her upper lip into asly smile - a. And anyway, I can’t imagine they wouldn’t want me to be awake for such an event.Wearily, she stumbled down the hall, clutching the wall in the half-blindness of her misery. The bath that awaited was as hot and soothing as ever, and the usual range of unguents and cloths were arrayed at its side. She made use of all of them, salving and rehydrating her damaged skin. There was also food and drink, and she partook of as much as she could consume and guiltily devoured the rest, unwilling to rely on. More

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