A Woman of Courage Read Online Free

assistant assured her would wow the most fastidious host.
    Jennifer stared doubtfully at her reflection. ‘You don’t think it’s a bit… revealing?’
    The well-endowed assistant assured her it was not. ‘It is the latest fashion,’ she said.
    With the bag stowed safely in the car Jennifer phoned Tessa and arranged to meet her for coffee at their favourite rendezvous in Bayside Avenue. There they enjoyed one of the wide range of coffees imported from various parts of the world. Tessa claimed to be an expert on coffee as on everything else and today had decided they would drink an Arabica coffee from Colombia.
    â€˜It is divine,’ Tessa said. ‘Intensely aromatic.’
    Jennifer found her friend’s pretensions exasperating. In truth she thought it tasted no different from instant coffee. She did not dare say so but her doubts must have shown.
    â€˜One needs an educated nose to obtain the full benefit,’ Tessa said.
    As good as saying Jennifer didn’t have one, but once again she warned herself to be patient. Tessa was a friend and friends were important. With Davis the way he was she would be alone without them and Jennifer could imagine no fate more terrible than that. If being patronised was the price she had to pay then pay it she would.
    She smiled brightly. ‘I’m sure you are right, sweetie.’
    To comfort herself she went to the counter and selected one of the café’s delicious chocolate cakes.
    â€˜So decadent,’ she confided to Tessa when she returned to their table. ‘You should try one.’
    But Tessa, beanpole thin, stuck to toast.
    Jennifer got home a little after twelve. She hung up the new outfit, poached herself an egg for lunch and afterwards put her feet up for an hour, telling herself it was important she should be at her best for the Hawthorns’ dinner tonight.
    At five o’clock she had a lovely long bath. It was one of life’s luxuries, she thought, to soak in scented warm water. Afterwards she put on the new outfit and stared dubiously at herself in the mirror. Had she really shown so much cleavage in the shop? She supposed she must have done, but somehow it seemed more noticeable now. She remembered reading advice given by some American woman. If you got ’em, show ’em . She was certainly doing that.
    Davis would be home any minute. She wondered what he would say about the new dress or whether he would even notice… but time passed and Davis did not come. It was after six now, leaving him little time to shower and change before they had to set out for the Hawthorns. That was bad news; having to rush made him snaky and as always he would blame her for it.
    The minutes ticked by. Six-thirty and still no sign of Davis. Something must have happened to him. She hated unexpected hitches, imagining heart attacks, road accidents, even mugging. She had always been burdened with a vivid imagination; it was the curse of her artistic temperament. For an artist she was; before she got married she’d known several and even been in love with one, and over the years many friends had complimented her on the watercolours she displayed every summer at the community art exhibition.
    Davis hated her phoning him at work; after an argument a few months back he had categorically forbidden her to do so. But if he didn’t come home in the next ten minutes they would be late whatever they did. She mustered her courage and phoned Davis’s chambers. There was no answer. With mounting desperation she tried his mobile but it was switched off.
    Now it was a quarter to seven. She didn’t know what to do. If she went without him he would be furious. She daren’t ring the Hawthorns. She knew how important they were to Davis’s career and was terrified of saying or doing the wrong thing.
    Five to seven. She made up her mind and rang for a taxi.
    There were no taxis. It was the busiest time of the evening: what