Carrie pushes open the door. Nervously we step through.

A slim-hipped tiger scrambles to her feet, checking out the intruders.

'Desiree was rescued from a restaurant in Texas. We don't declaw any of our animals but she came to us already done so we have to keep her in her own cage because she can no longer defend herself.'

I feel a pang for her: she must feel so vulnerable.

'And this is Oliver. He was found abandoned in a garage in Wyoming. He'd been left on his own in the middle of winter with no food or water and was frostbitten all over.'

Sasha's eyes well up and gently she moves closer but the instant Oliver sets eyes on her he starts freaking out.

Carrie bundles her out of the way.

'I'm sorry, I forgot can you tie back your hair?'

Sasha looks confused as she swiftly winds her hair into a knot. Oliver gradually calms down.

'We think he might have been abused by someone with long hair, it always seems to set him off.'

I grip Sasha's hand and find her shaking.

'Ty's been spending a lot of time with him lately. We think he's making progress but after what these animals have been through it's tough ...' Carrie shakes her head.

It seems unfathomable that anyone could be deliberately cruel but Carrie points out that there's a shocking amount of ignorance in the world, citing the man who thought that if he stopped feeding his tiger cub it would stay the same size...

'Come on, I'll show you the house,' Carrie jollies us out of our slump.

It's a pretty basic wooden bungalow with very little in the way of furniture and tr.i.m.m.i.n.gs but the large kichen/dining area overlooking the preserve is warm and homely and smells of baked ham and cornbread (our upcoming dinner, it transpires). There's a long corridor with three bedrooms and a bathroom off it and a half-painted porch with a hammock at the end. I'm rather taken with the idea of sleeping al fres...o...b..t we've been a.s.signed sleeping bags on an old mattress two doors down. Bit of a contrast to La Valencia.

'I'm just going to have our personal butler run a Jacuzzi for us,' I joke to Sasha as we wheel our suitcases in from the car.

It's pretty spooky in the darkness with the curious walrus-like barking of the cats. I wouldn't like to be staying here by myself and I wouldn't blame Sasha if she suddenly bleated, 'I can't do this!' But instead she seems oddly resigned to her fate, as if she somehow feels she deserves this punishment.

We're just inside the front door when the lights cut out.

'You girls okay?' Carrie finds us in the darkness.

'Fine!' we say gripping on to each other.

'Looks like we got a power cut,' she says matter-of-factly. 'Ty's moved the torches again so we're gonna be blacked out till he gets here. Why don't you come on through to the kitchen it's nice and toasty by the stove.'

'Wood-burning?' I check.

'That's right.'

Sasha continues trembling but I heave a sigh of relief dinner is still on, thank goodness for that!

'You two sit tight,' Carrie instructs as we fumble towards the table. 'How about I fix us some drinks?'

We nod and then realize actions alone are just not going to cut it. 'Yes, please!' we say out loud.

'Now one of these bottles ...' Carrie appears to be sniffing a selection. 'Here it is. I guess we should be having wine with the meal but since I don't have any and this is a special occasion ...'

Lord knows what she hands us but judging from the searing sensation in my throat and the way my eyes water from the fumes I'm guessing at moonshine. We're tiddly in seconds and chat amiably for the next half hour: it feels a bit like we're having an illicit 'lights out' conversation. We're just getting on to Carrie's divorce and how she came to be heading up Tiger Tiger when the distinctive purr and pop of a motorbike whirrs to a halt outside.

'Here he is! Maybe now I'll be able to see to carve the ham!'

The door creaks open and a figure clomps into the kitchen. 'What's going on here?' a male voice rumbles. 'You girls playing hide-and-seek?'

'Where'd you put the torches?' Carrie cuts to the chase.

'I haven't touched them they should be right here ...' There's a shuffling and the squeak of a hinge. 'You know what? Nina was going to get new batteries.'

'You're right,' Carrie confirms. 'Oh well, we'll manage.'

'Are you going to introduce me?' Ty prompts.

'Oh yes!' We hear Carrie c.h.i.n.k a tooth on her gla.s.s as she curtails her slurp. 'This is Lara and Sasha. Not that you can see them, let alone tell them apart!'

'For the record, I'm the really good-looking one!' I pipe up, my squiffiness having gone straight to my tongue.

'And I'm the one who looks like she's been smacked in the face with a shovel!' Sasha giggles, apparently suffering similar symptoms.

'Carrie, I'm guessing you've cracked open that bottle of Sambucca you've been saving.'

Is that what it is? I love it. My new favorite drink.

'Yes I did!' Carrie cheers.

'Good job! I'll get a gla.s.s.'

'You got your bike back then,' Carrie calls after him.

'Yeah, she's running like a dream.'

'Sounds like an old Triumph Tiger,' Sasha observes.

'It is,' Ty's voice comes back in our direction: '1964 cla.s.sic. How'd you know?' he asks with obvious delight.

'I had one. Well actually it was my brother's but he gave it to me when he moved away. Best way to get around London.'

'Well I wouldn't know about that but she sure is nippy! You ever take her on any long runs?'

'Mostly just down to Brighton that's only an hour or two but sometimes I'd continue down the coast.'

'Man, that's the best, isn't it?'

The pair of them rap away about ccs and shock absorbers and the bliss of having sea air mingling with exhaust fumes. Meanwhile Carrie does a pretty good job hacking at the ham and I hoik the cornbread out of the baking tray and on to the plates (sneakily snaffling Sasha's ham portion while I'm at it. She doesn't seem keen to ruin the mood by telling them she's a vegetarian just yet).

'I'm sorry we didn't bring any wine,' I apologize. 'Maybe I could go to a local store tomorrow?'

'Don't you worry about that,' Carrie shushes me. 'Nother Sambuca?'

'Oh go on then!'

This is great! I'm going to have all my dinner parties in pitch-blackness from now on it makes the whole thing so much fun. I gave up trying to co-ordinate my knife and fork after the first failed bite and am now picking at the food with my fingers and no one even knows!

'You want a napkin, sweetie?' Carrie offers, foiling me with her night-vision.

'Oh! Er, thank you!' I fl.u.s.ter.

'So, what's your ultimate dream for Tiger Tiger?' Sasha addresses Carrie and Ty.

Interesting. It's not like her to initiate a conversation. And she always used to wince at the mention of dreams after all, she'd lived the dream of so many girls and look where that got her. I put it down to this lack of scrutiny in the dark she doesn't have to be her normal self, or the person people expect her to be. As she responds to Ty talking about his trips to Africa and the ideas he's got for the preserve, her voice sounds warm, intimate even. Everything he says seems to strike a chord with her. At first I wonder how she can flirt with someone she's never seen but then I remember all the men I've fancied purely on a phone-call basis antique dealers, new clients, wrong numbers ... and it hits me BAM! She's having a blind date! She said she wanted to go somewhere where looks don't count and suddenly she's in a place where no one can even see her! I can't help wondering if The California Club didn't orchestrate the power cut themselves.

We stay up till midnight, Carrie and I yappering over peppermint stick ice-cream at one end of the table, Ty and Sasha sipping coffee and sighing at the other. Finally we retreat to our respective bedrooms.

'Am I detecting a slight fluttering of the heart?' I whisper as I close the wonky door behind us.

'Slight?' she reels, hoa.r.s.e with l.u.s.t. 'I've been having palpitations for the last two hours!'

'Sasha!' I gasp.

'What?'

'I've never seen you like this! Not that I can see you now.' I laugh as she spins me around the room. 'I wonder what he looks like?'

'Oh I don't care!' she sings.

'You don't?'

'Well, I'm curious of course but if I could just keep listening to his voice, I'd be happy.'

'Even if he was some spindly little worm with one leg?' I tease.

'Oh Lara!'

'Well, he could be if he's spent years around wild cats he could easily be missing a few limbs.'

Sasha grabs me and tells me again, 'I don't care!'

'I'll bet he's lying in bed now wondering what you look like.'

'D'you think so? What if he doesn't like what he sees?' Sasha frets.

I groan. 'Coming from anyone else on the planet that might be a reasonable concern, but you? Sasha, get real! The guy is going to freak when he sees you - he won't believe his luck!'

'Oh, I hope so!'

We wriggle into our sleeping bags.

'I'm thinking Indiana Jones crossed with Fabio,' I mutter.

'Stop it!' Sasha chortles.

'Or a lean Russell Crowe, maybe with an eye-patch?'

'Night!' Sasha tries to shut me up.

'Night!' I concede.

We lie still for two whole minutes before Sasha fidgets excitedly: 'I can't wait for morning!'

I think of the contrast to her earlier mood crying on the beachside bench, on the verge of taking the next flight home and experience a gratifying sense of satisfaction. We've only been gone a matter of hours and The California Club is already working.

Chapter 16.

'I can't look!'

Sasha and I are outside the kitchen, about to see Ty for the first time in hyper-bright daylight.

'Can't you go in then come back and tell me what he's like?' Sasha urges, backing away.

'Wait! I know!' I reach in my bag and pull out my compact, angling the mirror so I can see around the corner.

'Oh G.o.d, it's worse than we thought!'

'What? What?' Sasha claws at me.

'I thought you said it didn't matter what he looked like?' I give her a withering look.

'It doesn't. Just tell me!'

'Picture a young Danny De Vito.'

'Is he short?'

'Not so much short as wide. Khaki combats and a turtleneck.'

'In this heat?'