She glanced at herself in the mirror and smoothed down her gown gingerly, staring warily at the thigh length slit that parted exotically to reveal her right leg when she moved. She wondered again how she had let herself be persuaded by the stylist to wear this. When they left the gardens, Tristan had called for a stylist against her grumbling protests. He had flashed her a wan smile and insisted that she consider the gesture all part of the making it up process. In less than an hour, the styling crew of 4 had arrived like a mini whirlwind of noise and colours. On a normal day, she would have considered their chatters unwelcome but after a day in the still silence of the beach house, any company was more than welcome. And with a quick smile, Tristan had left her to their mercy, calling back
