Chapter Twelve
Feeling slightly foolish, Lillian inspected herself in the bedroom mirror. It wasn’t the plain white t-shirt that was the problem. No, that was fine. It was the mischief happening further down that was causing her anxiety. Lillian wasn’t sure what had come over her, but if she had been one of those evangelical types, she would have put money on it being the devil.
Turning this way and that, she cast her eyes over the previously unworn Jasper Conran jeans that she’d bought on a whim, not realising they were cut with a flare. For years they had taken up space in the back of a wardrobe. That morning, she had taken a pair of scissors to them.
Lillian had seen plenty of women wearing cut-off denim shorts, women of all shapes, sizes and ages. She lived on a tourist island after
