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Daphne said nice things about the newly decorated room, though Cleo thought they might have been said more in the spirit of encouragement than actual admiration, given Daphne’s own tastes. She’d even kindly refrained from pointing out that the work hadn’t really been bottomed, though it was obvious to anybody. The trompe l’oeil window, however, received the Atkins seal of approval.
They’d eaten takeaway pizza, and a salad Cleo had successfully made. George had brought along a bottle of red wine, and Daphne one of her famous lemon tarts as dessert, and now they were drinking coffee in the front room.
Daphne said, ‘You don’t want to sit in here when you’re on your own with the curtains not pulled, Cleo. Anybody can see in.’
‘But I love to be able to see the lights.’ Beyond the darkene
