a swallow in full flight she joined in the dance，<br >e sound of cheers and shouting danced as she<br >r danced before. Her delicate feet seemed to be<br >arp knives， but the anguish of her heart was so<br >t she did not feel the pain at all， She knew that<br >:he last evening she was to see the Prince<br >; Mermaid by Hans Christian Andersen<br >n Presents first edition March 1985<br >173-10769-2<br >~rdcover edition published in 1984<br > Boon Limited<br >CHAPTER ONE<br >MARTA COLE opened her eyes， turned over on to her<br >back and stared up at a strange ceiling， one washed<br >with early morning light and the occasional flicker of a<br >shadow as the curtain at the window moved in the<br >breeze. She looked up at it for a long time and then put<br >her forearm across her eyes as if she could blot the sight<br >from her eyes. She felt despair wash over her in great<br >waves， and her insides felt as if their substance had been<br >scooped out， leaving her empty， hollow， worthless. She<br >had done what she had said she would never do， not<br >even when she was at her loneliest and lowest point， not<br >even when Blaine s death had seemed to be her own，<br >not even when her room had felt like a jail cell， its four<br >~alls blank and looming， the silence louder than any<br >voice could have been， the weight of it pressing against<br >h~aerS"<br > man next to her shifted slightly， the bed sheets<br >rustling as he moved. She could only see a glimpse of<br >his profile; an unshaven cheek， dark lashes against<br >cheekbones， dark hair tousled on the pillow. He had<br >been nice to her， sympathetic， understanding her pain<br >as she had understood his. He was the victim of the<br >present popularity of divorce， a man whose wife had<br >left him， whose children barely knew him， whose<br >unhappiness equalled hers in depth and breadth. They<br >had comforted one another， she supposed. They had<br >smiled at one another in the bar， had talked over<br >drinks， had felt the intimate connection of sadness. And<br >then she had gone with him to his apartment， not<br >wanting to take him back to hers， knowing that what<br >she sought in the bed and arms of a stranger was a<br >burying of herself， complete oblivion.<br > It hadn t worked， of course. She hadn t been able to<br ><br >