Helena smiled apologetically, hoping to slow Alice down. She didn’t really want to listen to reason right now.

"Of course you’re right Ali. Which is why tonight I have a date. No sitting about this Friday night for me."

"A date! Do I know her?"

"I think you do. Leigh Ostin."

"The artist? Didn’t you used to date her when you were still in your wicked-witch-from-east-of-the-Atlantic phase? I thought that was yesterday’s affair."

"We didn’t actually date then. I chatted her up to annoy Bette mainly."

Alice threw up her hands in theatrical despair. "Bette again. Or Bette-Noir should I say." She looked at Helena suspiciously. "You’re not really going on a date with Lee are you? It’s just camouflage to hide your pathetic-ness."

"Well I suppose we’re friends actually," Helena admitted. "I don’t really feel like dating at the moment; Lee’s a very interesting woman and I like hanging with her."

Alice rolled her eyes but in mid-roll and just as her mouth opened, her cell-phone set up a tinny rendition of the theme from Shaft. She peered warily at the small screen to see who was calling. Slightly bewildered, she glanced at her watch and then leapt to her feet, swearing silently as though the unanswered phone might detect her presence. ‘Fuck! Oh fuck! Oh fuck!’ After the third repetition of ‘Shaft’ and some more anguished leaping, Alice took a deep breath, smiled determinedly and pressed the call accept button.

"Jane! Hey. Great to hear from you."

Alice visibly cringed as her caller replied. She put her hand over the phone mouthing ‘My Boss’ at her two companions. Another wince and Alice started to babble: "No really? We did? Jane, I am there! With you. Now. Well okay I’m not actually there, there, but you know what? We can do this on the phone. Just a moment while I find a quiet spot. Then it’ll be just you and me."

Alice danced awkwardly away in the direction of Kit’s office.

Shane grinned slowly at Helena, remote and warm like a desert breeze. Not for the first time Helena found herself wondering where the young hairdresser acquired her presence. She knew that Shane’s life was borderline chaotic, filled with drugs, poverty and random sex, yet to look in her eyes was to see a stillness and ageless antiquity. She could imagine Shane as a character in an Anne Rice novel, a tragic and ancient vampire driven by its desires but entirely lacking either malice or self-interest.