‘You said that very well,' said Dora. 'Not sure I'dattempt a word like – like "unspecified" in my condition. Oh, that came out OK.'

‘We had a few drinks on the train coming home, to celebrate,' Tom explained confidentially.

‘I think I'd worked that out,' said Jo, amused at their high spirits.

‘And the fish and chips are on me!' said Dora, producing a plastic carrier and dumping it on the counter.

Chapter Seven

The following day Dora felt rather flat. 'I had such a lovely time and now I've got to face real life and go job-hunting.' She looked without enthusiasm at the list of agencies she had printed off the previous day. They had both woken up early.

‘You could just take the job at the boatyard,' said Jo, who was wondering how to set about repairing plaster cherubs, wishing she could just use butter cream. She'd spent yesterday pottering about, quite enjoying the peace and quiet, emailing Karen and contemplating her future, a little more optimistically, she realised, since her chats with Miranda.

‘I know,' said Dora, 'but I feel I should look elsewhere first. I might not want the job when I know more about it and my reason for coming to live with you – or at least the one I'm telling everybody – is because I wanted a job in London.'

‘Tell you what, why don't I come up to town with you? I've got to buy some materials anyway. When we've both done our chores we can have lunch somewhere. I could do with a day out myself. The trouble with having a lovely time is you can feel quite down afterwards.' She sensed that Dora's day at the races had had this effect on her.

‘I could perfectly well go on my own..

‘Of course! But I want to come with you.' Jo laughed.'And perhaps I don't want to go all the way up to London without a minder.’

Dora giggled. 'OK.'

‘Make a couple of appointments, then. It'll give us something to work round.’

After Dora had made her calls they disappeared to their separate cabins to get ready. Jo was horribly aware that she didn't have any clothes remotely smart enough to go to London in, and then remembered that it was Dora who needed to look smart. She could look 'arty'. She added another string of beads and put on some earrings in the form of parrots and then went back to the saloon while she waited for Dora.

Dora was wearing linen trousers and a fitted black T-shirt. 'Do I look all right? It's been ages since I was last at an interview.'

‘What did you wear then?'

‘A navy-blue suit. My mother bought it for me.’

‘Did you bring it with you?'

‘No. Apart from what I wore yesterday, which definitely needs washing, this is the smartest outfit I've got.’

‘Then you look fine. After all, it's only an initial consultation, you're not going for an interview at an embassy. You look pretty and tidy, and casual. Fine.' Jo sensed that Dora was nervous about having to sell her skills to strangers and although she personally would have added a jacket or something, to make herself look a little more businesslike, she wasn't in her twenties. Dora was. It was right that she should look youthful.

‘You're right. But if I'd thought, I'd have kept my best clothes for today and not wasted them on going to the races.'

‘You had fun though.'

‘Yes I did, and doing Tom's first dare gave me confidence. Let's hope it lasts all day!’

They sat on the train opposite each other. Dora looked out of the window at the suburban gardens they went past, each one different, some immaculate showpieces, others a place to dump old bikes, leaking paddling pools and rusty barbecues.

‘I love train travel,' she said, 'when I'm not weighed down with stuff, and not sure where I'm going.'

‘So do I,' agreed Jo.

‘So we could both end up as happy commuters,' Dora said.

‘Mm. Not sure I'd like to actually commute. But I love days out.' Jo burrowed in a faded straw bag and produced an A-Z. 'Let's work out where we want to go. What are the addresses of the agencies?’

Dora handed over the sheet. Anxiety bubbled up and then subsided. Yesterday, after she'd accomplished her first challenge so spectacularly, she'd felt full of con fidence. Maybe when she'd done all five dares the confidence would last a bit longer.

‘All fairly central,' Jo said. 'Have you got appointments at all three?'

‘Only one. The other two said just swing by. Where do you want to go?'

‘Miranda told me there's a little shop near the British Museum that sells artists' materials. We'll only be a few tube stops away from each other. You phone me when you're done and we'll find somewhere nice for lunch.'

‘Mm, that sounds lovely. Like having treats after going to the dentist.'

‘Exactly,' said Jo. 'I always give myself treats when I've been to the dentist, doctor, or anything like that. We could take in Selfridges later if we're feeling strong.'

‘And spray ourselves with scent? Bliss! This is going to be such fun.’

Jo remembered similar trips in the past when she and Karen would come up to London for the day and try on make-up and clothes; she did miss her daughter although Dora was a good surrogate.

Dora didn't find it much fun when she was seated in front of a computer and made to do a typing test. She was a very fast typist, she knew she was, but somehow the presence of a very tanned woman with aggressive highlights made her fingers slippery and her mind go all over the place.

She'd gone to the agency where she had an appointment, feeling she could 'swing by' better if she'd got one under her belt. She should have told Tom she hadn't been to an agency before and persuaded him it would have been a good dare. Now she was suffering the tortures of the damned and no nearer to Tom's as yet unnamed reward.

The trouble was, she had a very short CV, having only had one job, and her qualifications didn't include a degree. It seemed something of the sort was required for high-powered personal assistants these days.

She knew she was dressed all wrong the moment she got through the door and cursed herself yet again for wearing the only clothes suitable for an interview yesterday.

First of all it had been the aggressive air conditioning that hit her. It was a sunny day, but not that warm. She'd been fine in the sunshine but the office felt like a fridge the moment she walked in. The girl behind the desk was wearing a silk vest top and had stringy arms. She had rather wide blonde streaks in her choppy hairstyle and apparently had a season ticket at her local tanning salon. She obviously didn't feel the cold.

‘Yes?' Her glance took in Dora's not-quite-right clothes and lack of confidence immediately, and did nothing to make Dora feel better.

‘I have an appointment. I rang earlier. It's for ten-thirty,' she added.

‘Name?’

Dora gave her name, just managing not to say, 'Yes, I have got one,' instead.

‘Right, I'm Charlene. Give us your CV. Oh, you'd better sit down.’

Dora sat, thinking that this woman needed to brush up on her people skills quite badly.

Charlene glanced at Dora's CV for a second before saying, 'You'd better do a typing test. Go to that computer over there. Here's the test.' She pulled a sheet of paper out of her drawer without looking at it.

Dora went over to the computer and realised instantly that it wasn't a program she was used to. Keep calm, she told herself, it'll be easy really. Computer programs aren't designed to catch people out in tests, they're designed to help. Although she told herself this with all the conviction she could manage, in her heart she knew that this particular program, on this particular computer, was in fact a massive trap. She dried her hands on her trousers, no longer considering the air conditioning too vicious.