The Long Shadow

THE LONG SHADOW Jane Donnelly

Jill knew that she had treated Connal Craig incredibly badly, walking out on him only minutes before they were to have been married, and she felt that it was more than she deserved when he proceeded to behave in a civilized manner, as if nothing had happened. But was that really how she wanted him to behave?

CHAPTER ONE 'Rats?' said the distinguished-looking grey-hailed gentleman holding the telephone. 'That's the first I've heard of them. Jilly my dear, do you have rats at Sweet Orchard?' A girl on the top of a step ladder, looking for a book on a high shelf, swayed slightly. 'No! Why?' 'Because a couple who went round with an order to view have returned to the estate agents under the impression that the house is over-run.' Jill Manning came down the step ladder. The phone had rung on the desk of Joshua Aslett, owner of the second-hand books and prints shop where Jill worked. He handed her the phone and she said, 'Jill Manning here. This sounds horrible. I've never seen a sign of a rat— did they actually see one?' She listened for a while, then she said, 'Oh dear! Oh yes! Look, don't send anyone else round unless you can send someone with them, or unless you know for sure that I'm there, otherwise it's going to be wasted time. Sorry about this!' 'Do you have rats?' inquired Joshua Aslett as she put down the receiver. She laughed. 'Mother told them that Tab was a marvellous ratter, but they'd better not go down the cellars. Then she opened one of the bedroom doors and screeched.' He chuckled, 'Her heart is not in this sale, is it?' Neither was Jill's, but the house had to be sold. It was much too big, and the way the cost of living was rising it would soon be a case of

them or it. As Jill had tried to explain, 'We can't go on living here and eating. We'll have to find somewhere smaller.' 'Not leave our home?' her mother had wailed, as though Jill was suggesting they pitched a tent, rather than exchanged an inconvenient old house for a comfortable modern one. Not to mention money in the bank, which would be a nice change too. Georgian gems were lovely in their way, but not when your income was limited and you were only using two out of five bedrooms. 'Your father was born here,' Elinor Manning sighed. Jill knew it, and that her mother had come here as a bride, and that it had always been a house with love in it. She loved the place herself, it was beautiful, but Elinor Manning's annuity and Jill's own wage would stretch no further and they just couldn't afford the upkeep. Jill had said, 'Uncle Josh thinks it's a good idea,' and her mother was scathing. 'So long as Joshua has a book and a chair he'd be happy in a slum. He isn't expecting us to go and live over the shop too, is he?' Jill laughed. 'That's no slum, that's a nice apartment he's got up there. But it isn't big enough for three, especially if two of them are you and Uncle Josh.' 'I don't want to sell Sweet Orchard,' her mother was desolated at the thought. don't want to.' Life had been kind to Elinor Manning. She was wand-slim and lilypale, her face as lovely in repose as when she smiled. She had

natural grace, she could have dressed cheaply and still looked elegant, but she had been a pampered only child and she had married a man who had enjoyed giving her the best he could afford. Sometimes a little more than he could afford. Charles Manning was not wealthy. He owned half a bookshop, and Sweet Orchard, a Georgian house in a walled garden in a Midland market town. They had a pleasant life. Their children grew loving and bright. They had good friends; the best was Joshua Aslett, Charles's business partner, no relation although Jill and Danny had always called him Uncle Josh. When Charles died, of a heart attack in his late forties, Joshua Aslett had been the saviour of Charles Manning's family. Jill was fifteen, still at school of course, and Danny at eighteen had just been accepted for RADA. No one doubted that Danny would make the grade as an actor. He had the looks and the talent. It was unthinkable he should be denied the chance by being rushed into a job for which he lacked aptitude and inclination. But there was no money. Charles Manning had paid out to his limits, and Elinor who had never bothered her head about a bank statement in her life had stared at the final statement after his death and asked, 'What does it mean?' Joshua had explained. Charles had died solvent, and he would have continued solvent, but the money had gone out as the money came in. It would still come in, Joshua had assured her. The business would still provide a reasonable living. He would pay Charles's widow a regular half of the profits. But Elinor was panicking. In a world where Charles could drop dead she was no longer sure of anything. She believed that Charles had

been the businesslike partner. Joshua was a quiet man who would rather read a book than sell it, and who positively encouraged customers to browse for hours. She foresaw a steady decline in profits, and bankruptcy within months. She had sobbed, 'Who's going to run the business with you? You'll never manage alone.' 'I don't suppose you'd care to come in? You are a partner now.' 'I'm not a career woman.' She had shuddered at the suggestion. 'I'd be no use.' Danny had announced, 'I shall go into the business, Uncle Josh,' putting aside all hope of fame and fortune with a brave sad smile, and Jill had said, 'A fat lot of use that'd be. You wouldn't know a breeches Bible from a jug handle. I'm going into the shop as soon as I leave school. You all know I'm going into the shop.' 'So you are, Jilly,' Joshua had said. 'I think I can keep it a running concern until then.' He missed his partner. He and Charles Manning had had a good working relationship and a great mutual regard. But Joshua was in no way less astute than Charles. He did not bankrupt. For Elinor's peace of mind he bought her out, paying generously and investing the money in an annuity for her. No one suggested again that Elinor Manning might find a job. She was a born lady, and she played her part so gracefully that it was a pleasure to watch her. Not that she was unoccupied. It was a biggish house and with the help of a daily twice a week she kept most of it looking as it had

when Charles was alive and she had had full-time domestic help. She still gave coffee mornings and bridge parties, and had friends in for dinner. Sweet Orchard was still very much in the social whirl. But because she was a youngish woman the annuity was small, and although Joshua paid Jill a good salary the house was draining their resources. It had to go. There was no reason why Elinor should not fit out a smaller property in the same gracious style. What was the use of rooms perpetually shrouded under dust sheets? Joshua asked her that, pointing out that keeping up Sweet Orchard was not fair on Jill. 'But a girl needs a beautiful home,' Elinor had said plaintively. 'Sweet Orchard has always been the perfect setting for Jill.' 'Maybe,' he'd conceded, remembering Jill from an enchanting child in a red flannel nightgown coming down the curved staircase, to the Jill of today. Yes, she was as much a part of this house as Elinor was. If he could he would have saved it for them, but it was beyond his resources. He said tartly, 'The roof is going to need re-tiling in another twelve months. Have you any idea how much that's going to cost?' 'No.' She didn't want him to tell her. They were in the drawing room and she got up and went across to a floral display on a window table that she had arranged with great care not an hour before, and took out a couple of roses, completely disturbing the symmetry. 'More than any of us can afford,' said Joshua grimly. Elinor stayed with her back to him, frowning at her roses. This is Danny's home too.' 'Danny has got his own home.' A flat in London. 'And you can always keep a room for him in the new house.'

Joshua Aslett would feel the loss of Sweet Orchard too. He was a solitary man, old before his time even as a student, a natural bachelor who had counted himself blessed in the warmth and welcome of this house through the years of Charles's life and since. He might never again sit in candlelight here and listen to Elinor playing the piano, or watch Danny on television— small parts still, but there was time, Danny was young. He would miss Elinor's dinner parties, where he was almost the man about the house; Jilly bringing him back to Sweet Orchard when the shop closed—'You've got to come and eat with us, Uncle Josh, Mother's trying out a new recipe.' It would be a wrench for all of them, but the house was too big without Charles and Danny. 'And what will you do when Jill gets married?' Joshua demanded. 'There's no certainty she's going to choose a local man, or one who'd want to come and live here. She might marry that Australian.' Elinor smiled. 'He's six months back. You don't keep up to date.' 'I lose count of them.' 'There are two favourites at the moment.' Good humour restored, she brought the roses with her and sat down again on the settee beside him, an exquisitely cared-for woman who could hold roses against her face and know that her skin had the same velvety texture. 'Paul and Roger,' said Joshua promptly. 'I know.' They smiled together, Jill's changing boy-friends were an old joke. Even before Charles died there had been teenage punch-ups centred round who was taking Jill out or bringing her home. It was surprising she did so well in her school- work. Joshua remembered Charles showing him the last end- of-term report that Charles had lived to see, and saying, 'They're out of sight, out of mind with Jilly,

she wastes no time mooning over them. I think she might do even better academically than Danny.' Danny could have gone on to university that summer, but he had chosen RADA. Charles Manning had been content. Danny was in his own image, handsome and confident and of immense charm. They all had charm, the Mannings, the parents and the children. Joshua Aslett often thought how cruel it was that Charles had not seen Jill grow up and Danny change from youth to man. His beautiful children, his beautiful wife, he had had every reason for wanting to live. They said that death had come so quickly he could only have been conscious of a moment's pain, and that had been some comfort. They said he could not have known he was dying ... 'And if either Paul or Roger drops out,' said Joshua Aslett now, 'there's a list of reserves. They're always coming into the shop. It's good for trade, Jill usually sells them a book, even if it is only out of the bargain trough.' 'Come and see this.' Elinor got up, speaking softly, her eyes dancing. She took him into a room on the ground floor that had been a study, lined with books, with a bow-fronted walnut desk, and a painting propped up on the Adam mantelpiece. 'Jill!' Joshua hadn't seen it before. He went closer and inspected with interest. It was recognisable and that was in its favour. A head and shoulders of Jill wearing an open- necked yellow shirt, her soft beige hair shining, eyes and lips touched with a lambent glow. The features were nearer perfect than Jill's, but it was Jill all right. 'Very clever,' admired Joshua. 'Paul brought it along this morning. He's painted it from memory and a photograph. It's a surprise present for her.'

Paul Lawton taught art at the local Polytechnic. He painted well, but usually his work was more abstract. You only had to look at the loving detail of this to see how he felt about Jill, and Joshua Aslett was sorry for him. He said, 'I don't think he's in with a very good chance. The other one's got the looks.' 'Looks aren't everything,' said Elinor, who had chosen a strikingly handsome man and worked with dedication preserving her own beauty. 'Paul is more intelligent than Roger, and much more sensitive. Roger Gardner has a rather inflated opinion of himself, Jill laughs at him sometimes.' 'Jill laughs at them all,' Joshua pointed out. 'Still,' said Elinor, 'it's a nice painting. Where do you think we should hang it? ?' He was not going to be drawn into a discussion that presumed they would be staying here. He said, 'About selling the house -' and Elinor turned, walking away from him out of the room. 'Do what you like,' she flung over her shoulder. 'Don't tell me. I don't want to know.' He followed, persisting, 'If we find a purchaser who offers a good price you'll agree to the sale?' 'I'll sign what I have to sign.' Charles had left everything to Elinor. She stood in the hall, looking around her. 'It will break my heart, but if we must go we must.' Joshua said, 'I'm sorry.' 'You can't help it.' Elinor's voice had a choky little catch. 'No one can help it. We can only pray for a miracle.'

Joshua nodded. He did not believe in miracles, but at least Elinor was accepting that she and Jill could not continue living here the way things were. 'And I'd better write to Danny,' sighed Elinor. He didn't tell her that Jill had already phoned and discussed this with her brother and that Danny had agreed. He said kindly, 'Let me take you and Jill out to dinner tonight.' 'Why?' Her dark eyes were accusing in her pale face. 'Are we making an occasion of it?' 'You know I didn't mean it that way.' But she let him savour his clumsiness. She would accept no comfort. She looked at him stonily as he said, 'Then I'll come here this evening.' 'Of course, Joshua. You're always welcome in this house.' He left her, feeling like a man who has betrayed his friend, although common sense told him he was still doing his best for Charles Manning's family. Jill went to the estate agents that afternoon and put Sweet Orchard on the market. That evening she conducted one of the staff around the property, and helped to hold a tape- measure, and watched him jot down a list of desirable features. Genuine Georgian it was, and although too big for them not a sprawling house. A smallish country residence, or it would convert into two or three super flats. The man from the agency was enthusiastic. His happy carrying voice seemed to fill the house, and Jill knew that Josh was having his work cut out keeping Elinor from dissolving into floods of tears. She didn't take back her agreement to sell, but she resolutely refused to be cheered. Yesterday she had told a possible purchaser that they were leaving because the upkeep of the place was ruinous, the roof

timbers were all but falling in. He had left looking dubious, and without making an offer. Now it seemed she had launched the rumour that as well as dry rot under the eaves there were rats in the cellars, and at this rate Sweet Orchard would soon be a drag on the market. Jill said thoughtfully, 'I wonder it I could persuade her to take a holiday.' 'I think,' demurred Joshua, 'she would suspect your motives.' 'She doesn't want to move,' said Jill. 'I don't want to move. But we've got to move.' That summed it up. She decided, 'I'll ring Danny again tonight and see if he'll fetch her for a couple of weeks.' Joshua coughed gently. He regretted being obstructionist, but facts were facts. 'A day and a half at Danny's is always her limit.' Danny's flat was two small rooms in an unfashionable district and a state of perpetual disorder. Elinor had plenty of friends with whom she was on visiting terms, but right now her son was probably the only one who could lure her from Sweet Orchard. And although she loved him she was too fastidiously fond of her comforts to endure that flat for long. 'She'd be back so soon it wouldn't be worth the effort of getting her away,' said Joshua. 'You're right,' said Jill. 'So I'll have to do the showing around myself.' It was only drawing out the agony if her mother was going to discourage anyone who might buy. She climbed the step ladder again and brought down the book she had been looking for when the estate agent rang, 'Prisoners, Fast Bound in Misery and Iron,' by Mary Cholmondeley, published 1906,

A dear old lady sent them a regular list of books twice a year, all long-forgotten novels. It was surprising how many they managed to track down for her. This one had been in stock for years, since it arrived in a job-lot from an auction sale. Jill ticked it off from Mrs. Aubrey's list. 'This should be a cheerful read.' She looked at the last pages and grimaced, 'And I think I've got troubles!' 'Do you?' asked Joshua quietly. 'Are you troubled at losing the house?' There had been enough drama with her mother in the last few days without Jill acting heartbroken too. 'Not too much.' She smiled, 'It'll all turn out for the best, you see.' She had the unbounded confidence of a girl for whom things usually did turn out for the best. Like coming to work with Uncle Josh. She had always liked books, the feel and the smell of them as well as their contents. When her father was a partner it had been taken for granted that she would join him here. Danny never wanted to, but Jill had been fascinated by the shop, a precocious authority on the subject at an age when customers found her amusing. After her father died there was still no doubt in her mind that she would come here to work. Nor in Joshua Aslett's either. And it had turned out very well indeed. She knew what she was about at sales, she could spot a bargain, and she got on splendidly with the customers. Customers came in all shapes and sizes, from the ones who wanted a paperback thriller to the seekers after rare editions. From those who spent pence to those who spent pounds.

Lots of their clients were regulars. The shop had a friendliness and an unhurried air about it. There were even chairs around so that anyone could sit down with a book and browse. Sometimes the place looked more like a library than a bookshop, but a profitable number of books were sold, and prints and postcards of Edwardian beauties and by-gone trivia. Jill enjoyed life. She expected things to turn out for the best. They always had. Sweet Orchard going up for sale had their friends talking. Just before closing time Paulene Rollens, who had gone to school with Jill, looked in to ask, This doesn't mean you and your mother are leaving the district, does it?' 'No.' 'Because I've just heard about the house going,' said Paulene. 'We've had some marvellous times there, haven't we?' There had been riotous parties when they were children, more recent get-togethers when Danny came home. 'Where are you going to live?' Paulene wanted to know. 'Somewhere smaller. We thought perhaps a bungalow.' 'Oh!' Her sympathy had a touch of satisfaction. 'I guess you'll hate leaving Sweet Orchard.' She liked Jill, but she had always envied her. Everything seemed to be so easy for Jill Manning: exams when they were at school; work now, Jill loved her job, Paulene was in the local Tax Offices and disliked hers. Men 1 Paulene spent a lot of time reading articles on how to be irresistible across a crowded room, and trying to put the advice into practice.

She had a steady boy-friend—also in the Tax Office—and would have swapped him for either of the two who were making fools of themselves over Jill right now. It always seemed that some man was making a fool of himself over Jill. Jill didn't know how lucky she was. Even if they were having to sell Sweet Orchard Jill didn't know she was born. There was a raucous blast on a car horn from the roadway immediately outside the shop, and an elderly gentleman quietly skimming through a book just inside the door jumped so that the book shot up and out of his hands. Joshua Aslett frowned and tutted, he hated noise, and Jill peered through the door and muttered, 'Drat the man!' 'Oh, it's Roger Gardner,' said Paulene, peering too. 'Go away,' Jill mouthed. She pointed at her wrist watch- ten minutes to six—and Roger Gardner, in a lime-green sports coupe, waved back at her. 'Another new car,' said Paulene wistfully. 'He does sell them,' said Jill. He climbed out, over the car door instead of opening it, and came into the shop. A tallish young man, well built and rugged. His hair had a hint of red and his grin was infectious. 'Isn't it a beauty?' he said. 'Oh yes!' Paulene was rapturous, and Jill nodded. 'That should get us to the coast tomorrow, eh?' said Roger.

The weather was fine, and if no one was coming to look at the house it would be pleasant to spend a day by the sea. Jill could put up a picnic. She said, 'It sounds like a good idea.' 'Come and see how she runs,' Roger tempted. 'I don't finish for another ten minutes.' There were no customers but the old gentleman, and Joshua said, 'All right, Jilly, if you want to go, I can manage.' 'You're sure?' 'We're not likely to get a rush at this time.' At nearly six o'clock on a Saturday they were not. Jill got her coat and said goodnight to Joshua and 'Goodnight, Mr. Wingrove,' and went outside to where Paulene was asking what all the dials on the dashboard meant with an expression of wide-eyed wonder. Roger cut short his commentary seeing Jill. 'Right. Hop in.' Jill got in and Paulene said coyly, 'I'm only a little one. Can I have a ride too? I love fast cars.' 'Another time, eh?' said Roger, and while Jill was protesting, 'There's room, why shouldn't -?' he put the car in gear and slid smartly out into the stream of traffic. Jill demanded, 'Why not?' She had felt guilty, leaving Paulene standing there. Roger turned on the car radio and hummed with the tune, negotiating the traffic lights. 'I didn't come to fetch her,' he said, 'I came to fetch you. Like it?'

'Yes, it's a lovely car.' 'I think I'm going to have it.' Roger Gardner ran a flourishing garage and car sales on the outskirts of town. He was a breezy character, very much the life and soul of the party, and there didn't seem much point lecturing him that he had just hurt Paulene's feelings because so far as he was concerned anyone that sensitive should not try to push in where they weren't wanted. 'Sold the house yet?' he asked. She told him about the rats and he roared with laughter. Roger enjoyed a joke, he would be a tonic if you were feeling depressed, and Jill laughed too, with the wind streaming through her hair. 'We'll never get rid of it if she has her way. I'm going to show the next lot round. Now we have made up our minds I'd like to move as soon as possible. They've a bungalow on the books at the estate agents that sounds interesting.' They drove past it, in a neat tree-lined cul-de-sac. It looked clean and fresh, the garden small and labour-saving. It seemed a nice house, but it was such a change from Sweet Orchard that Jill dreaded taking her mother to see it. Like a coward she thought—I'll ask Uncle Josh if he'll come too. Roger turned the car at the end of the road and they took another look on their way out. 'Well, you want a small place, don't you?' he said. 'That's the idea, isn't it?' 'Yes,' said Jill. Oh, there were problems ahead, and not just in selling the house. Jill could foresee a scene over the contents next. Sweet Orchard had ten rooms, all fully furnished. Several of the rooms hadn't been used for

years, and Elinor Manning was going to take off the dust sheets as though she was unveiling treasures. The furniture was cumbersome Victorian, not Georgian, hardly any of it would be suitable for a small modern house, but Elinor would hate to see it go. The transition period was going to be grim, especially when the furniture went for a song. If it had been worth much it would have been sold before now. It suited Sweet Orchard, but there was small demand for large furniture that missed being antique. If Jill let herself think that far ahead she was going to panic out of the whole prospect. First things first, sell the house. She said, 'Come and have a cup of tea. I'd better get home.' There was no For Sale board up. The house looked as it had always looked, a graceful building in a largish garden, but now Jill surveyed it with a prickling behind her eyes. That was sentimentality, but she did love the old place, she had always been so happy here. Yes, Uncle Josh, she was troubled ... Yes, Paulene, she was going to hate leaving ,.. She said with forced flippancy, 'Well, I still think it's prettier than the bungalow.' 'Got to be practical,' said Roger crisply, driving up the short drive. 'Your mother's getting no younger. How much longer will she be able to run a place this size?' Jill doubted if that valid argument would appeal to her mother. She hoped Roger wouldn't trot it out in front of her; he was likely to get a frosty reaction. She opened the front door and called 'I'm home!' and a large tortoiseshell cat with splendid silky fur came to meet her, stretching as it came. 'Hello, Tab.' She hauled the cat up, and it went on

yawning in her arms, rubbing its head against her cheek. 'Caught many rats today?' Elinor was usually in the kitchen at this time, getting the tea, but today there was no one in the kitchen, and no sign of a meal either. Jill called again 'Mother!' turning from the empty room. 'Drawing room, maybe. She's probably laid the tea in there.' 'She doesn't seem to be answering,' Roger pointed out. 'I suppose she is at home?' 'She could have gone out, of course, but she usually leaves a note.' Elinor Manning was not in the drawing room either. There was no tea and no note. But there was Jill's portrait hanging on the wall, and Roger saw that as soon as he walked in. It looked well against the silken sheen of the off-white wallpaper, very vibrant and glowing, but he glared at it, demanding, 'When did he paint that?' It was a departure from Paul Allen's usual style, but Roger recognised the hand and did not approve of the message. That was a love letter hanging up there, pretending to be a painting. 'He brought it for me on Thursday,' said Jill. She had been touched and thought the gesture very flattering. As it happened she had needed cheering on Thursday evening, that was the night the estate agent came round. Roger went on scowling, 'I'll never know what you see in that weed,' and Jill bit back a smile. Paul could be caustic about Roger too, and Paul had the more cutting tongue. She said mildly, 'I think he's very talented.'

'Is it supposed to be you?' He knew it was. She asked, 'Doesn't it look like me?' He looked from her to the painting and back again. 'The nose is wrong for a start.' It had been idealised. The painted nose was flawlessly straight while Jill's had a little bump on the bridge. But only a very little bump, you had to get into profile to see it; this nose was near enough. 'I don't like the mouth either,' Roger announced. 'And what's wrong there?' 'Too tidy.' He took her in his arms and kissed her, and as she smiled he said, 'That's better. Why do you want to waste your time with him?' 'Because I like Paul.' She liked Roger too, and there was safety in numbers, and she had enough on her plate at the moment without extra emotional problems. '1 don't believe it.' Roger had a record of success and was sure enough of himself to be tolerant of teasing. 'Not when you could have me.' 'Could you paint my picture?' 'Ha!' He dismissed that talent as two-a-penny. On anything else you could name, any thing, a girl who preferred Paul Allen to himself had to be out of her mind. He could just be right. Paul was carping of Roger's boisterously high spirits. But Roger combined a shrewd mind with an endearingly schoolboyish charm, and was altogether rather a love.

'Jilleee!' her mother's voice carolled, and Jill turned towards the open door of the drawing room, calling, 'Here!' Before she could reach the door Elinor Manning appeared, smiling, looking a good ten years younger than she had at breakfast. Her eyes were bright, and there was a pink flush in her cheeks that for Elinor bordered on the hectic. She was naturally very pale-skinned. She came hurrying in, and that was out of character too, she rarely bustled, smiling at Roger, 'Hello, Roger,' holding a hand toward Jill, 'Jilly, guess where I've been.' Jill shook her head, 'To the estate agents,' said her mother gleefully. 'To tell them we're not selling.' Jill's heart sank. They were back at the beginning. Her mother was not a realist, often she saw things as she wanted them to be rather than as they were, and now she had somehow persuaded herself that they could manage to go on living here. But they couldn't. The bills were piling up. Tonight Jill would have to start all over again, writing it all down, proving with figures that Sweet Orchard would bankrupt them unless they let it go. She sighed 'Oh dear!' and her mother echoed, 'Oh dear!' mimicking her gaily, and then in a triumphant little rush, Danny phoned half an hour ago.' When Jill spoke to him Danny had agreed that there was no alternative to changing houses. But he loved Sweet Orchard and he loved his mother. She had written to him on Thursday; Jill hadn't seen the letter, and if she had sounded distressed enough he might easily have said, 'All right, don't sell' Jill wailed, 'How can Danny know? He isn't here. Uncle Josh knows far better than Danny.'

Her mother said reproachfully, 'Darling, do let me tell you what I've got to tell you. You will interrupt.' She laughed, bubbling with joy, 'As Danny would say—don't upstage me.' 'Sorry,' Jill apologised. 'He said the moment I answered the phone, "You haven't sold the place yet, have you?" and I said, "Not yet," and he said, "Don't, because our troubles could be over".' She paused to let that sink in. Jill asked, breathless with sudden hope, 'What did he mean?' 'He wouldn't say.' That was an anti-climax, but Elinor had a final announcement, which she made hugging herself, holding in the excitement, 'But he'll be home around ten, and we're to get out the champagne.' 'To celebrate?' 'Of course.' 'Celebrate what?' 'He'll tell us when he gets here.' 'And that was all he said?' Jill probed. 'Every word?' 'Every word. He was getting right into the car and coming right down.' If he was expecting to arrive around ten he would have had to set off right away. But this was wonderful. It would be wonderful to see Danny, and he wasn't just coming to help them over the hump of the sale. Somehow he had found a solution.

Elinor Manning exulted, 'I knew Danny would do it. When I wrote to tell him I knew something would happen so that we shouldn't have to sell.' 'Like what?' asked Roger. 'A part, of course,' said Danny's mother. 'A wonderful part in a film, or one of those long-running television series. Something that's going to bring in a lovely lot of money. The break. That's what it has to be, hasn't it?' 'Wouldn't it be marvellous if it were?' breathed Jill. 'What else could it be?' Money was the only thing that could save Sweet Orchard for them, and a piece of luck in his career did seem the likeliest source. Jill laughed, 'He could have won the pools or married rich.' 'He doesn't do the pools,' said Elinor gaily. 'And he wouldn't dare marry anybody without inviting us to the wedding.' Something to celebrate with champagne ... oh Danny, hurry ... It would be thrilling, but not all that surprising, because Jill had always known that one day her brother was going to be famous. In daydreams she felt that she might too, when she finished the novel that was still in bits and pieces in her mind. She'd always meant to write a book, but there never seemed a chance to get down to it. The • days slipped by, always so full. Maybe one day, though. It was surer with Danny, he had always had the promise of success about him, and he'd known he wanted to be

an actor right from the time when he played in his school drama club and made all the other boys look so ridiculous. Then he'd joined the county players, and when he was seventeen his Danny in Night Must Fall had chilled the blood. Jill had sat through it in growing terror. Although she knew the play so well she could have said most of the words with him, make-believe was suspended, and it was as though these things were truly happening, up there in front of her eyes. The applause had been thunderous, it had been such a triumph for Danny, but Jilly had looked at him afterwards and wondered fearfully which Danny was real—her brother who wouldn't have hurt a fly, or the smiling psychopath. She'd asked him, 'Did you feel like the other Danny?' and he'd said cheerfully, 'Sure. Sometimes. I really enjoyed myself.' The producer had told Charles Manning that Danny should apply for an audition with RADA. The producer was an amateur, it was an amateur company, but he said that in twenty-five years he had never encountered so much natural talent. In the years since Danny ended his training with the silver medal his career had been steady but not meteoric. He had played in rep, had a brief role in a West End production that closed after a fortnight, done a few TV ads, and turned up in small parts at about sixmonthly intervals on the small screen. His family and friends watched him avidly, and he was good, and everybody expected that his name was going to move up the cast list any time. Any time, like now. There was no champagne in the house, but there was a bottle of white wine and Jill put that in the fridge while her mother got out the chicken that had been scheduled for Sunday dinner.

'You'll stay for supper, won't you, Roger?' said Elinor Manning, and Roger Gardner replied that he certainly would. He'd have stayed, uninvited. He wanted to hear Danny's news. He was glad there was a chance that Jill might not have to move out of Sweet Orchard. He looked at the bottle of wine and said, 'That isn't going far, is it? Not for a celebration. I'll nip out and see what I can find.' 'How kind of you,' said Elinor, bringing out a pound of sausages and a pack of bacon. She was a good cook, adept at producing excellent meals at short notice. Danny had a hearty appetite, and she had everything planned. There was a cake baked, and pastry in the fridge and time to make his favourite lemon meringue pie. She stood in the middle of the kitchen, looking vague, wondering whether she should saute or duchesse the potatoes, and Roger paused at the door to ask Jill, 'Anything else I can bring?' 'No, thank you,' said Elinor promptly. 'Just another bottle of wine would be lovely. Now, Jill, if you'd go and see to Danny's bedroom I'll get the cooking done.' Roger went. Jill said, 'I'll phone Uncle Josh and tell him Danny's coming.' 'Yes, of course,' said her mother. 'Ask him to come round.' Jill dialled the shop number, listening to it ringing while Joshua Aslett was walking downstairs from his apartments above. 'Jill here,' she said when he answered, and told him the news. He was quiet for several seconds and she said, 'Uncle Josh? Are you there?' 'Of course I'm here,' he said irritably. 'I'm assimilating this.' There wasn't much to assimilate yet, but she waited, and it seemed he wasn't as thrilled as they were. He suspected that Elinor had read too

much into what Danny had said. He would have advised caution, if anyone had seen fit to ask his advice, before rushing to the estate agents as though it was a matter of life and death. He asked tetchily, 'Why didn't she use the telephone?' as though that was a further sign of lack of logic. 'I don't know.' Her mother was walking down the hall and Jill called after her, 'Mother, why didn't you phone the estate agents?' Elinor picked up a shopping basket she had set down just inside the front door. 'I wanted to buy another chicken, and the estate agents are next door to the butcher.' 'She wanted to buy a chicken,' Jill reported. Joshua sounded weary. 'The trouble we've had getting her to agree to this, and whatever Danny comes up with can only postpone the selling. I wish he'd phoned me first and told me exactly what he is proposing to do. Although I suppose that was too much to expect.' Jill tried to placate. 'He's on his way now, I'm sure he'll tell us as soon as he gets here.' 'When he gets here,' said Joshua with dignity, 'he can deal with the situation. I wash my hands of it.' It was not that Danny was irresponsible. He'd never been the head of the family, but that wasn't his fault. He'd had to leave home almost immediately after his father's death, and after his training he'd taken digs where the work was, and then this flatlet about nineteen months ago. He couldn't get down as often as everyone would have liked— Christmas had been the last time—but he often phoned and he

sometimes wrote, and Jill always knew that Danny was on her side if she needed him. He was always her best of brothers. But perhaps Joshua had been saddled with them. She didn't think they'd been a great nuisance. There hadn't been any mighty upheavals until now, but she had to admit she usually took small problems along to Uncle Josh. He had taken on the mantle of her father during the last seven years, but he was not her father, nor her uncle either; and he was under no obligation of responsibility for her or her mother or Sweet Orchard. All his concern had been from kindness and she said, 'Perhaps the house will still have to be sold. If it does I'll go round again on Monday and tell them to put it back on the books. We'll have lost nothing. Or perhaps something fantastic has happened and we can keep it. Anyhow, there's going to be a very good supper, so please come, and please don't be angry with us, because I don't know what we'd do without you.' 'Well enough, no doubt,' said Joshua gruffly. 'So long as your hopes aren't being raised for nothing. When are you expecting him?' 'About ten.' 'I'll be there.' He put down the receiver and she could imagine him stumping his way back upstairs. Danny, she thought, you'd better have a sound reason for telling Mother she need not sell, or Uncle Josh is going to declare your conduct outrageous. She smiled at the thought. For her part she couldn't see much harm being done. It wasn't as though they were handing any money back. They hadn't had an offer yet. They might be holding up the selling over the weekend, but what could that matter?

In the meanwhile this was exciting. Danny was on his way home, and Roger had gone out to buy some champagne, and they'd have a party even if it did end up as a wake. She looked into the kitchen. 'Uncle Josh thinks you should have spoken to him before you saw the estate agents.' Her mother closed the oven door, and turned round smiling. 'He's worried we might be disappointed,' said Jill. 'Joshua is an old woman,' said Elinor Manning, who was looking like a young one right now. 'Is he coming to supper?' 'He'll be here at ten, he says.' Then he is coming to supper. That will be five of us. We'll have it in the dining room, with the best silver and the candelabra.' 'We are celebrating!' 'And Danny will sit at the head of the table,' said Elinor. 'Don't be so old-fashioned,' smiled Jill, resolving to have a word with Danny, who couldn't care less where he sat so long as the food went round, because that might hurt Uncle Josh. Joshua Aslett came round to Sweet Orchard not much after eight o'clock. Everything was in hand: Danny's bed was ready in the bedroom he'd had as a boy; the table was laid in the dining room, even to white linen table napkins. Jill had tried to protest there, but if you were lighting candles in silver candelabra and using the best dinner service it seemed a pity to spoil the effect on a labour-saving quibble. Elinor loved her beautiful things and her beautiful home. She was revelling in them now, and why not? Jill fell It could still be for the last time in this room.

Joshua thought so. He shook his head gloomily. 'What are we celebrating, I want to know?' 'You will,' Jill promised. 'We'll all know when Danny gets here.' 'I think it's got to be something to do with the stage,' said Roger. 'What else would an actor want to celebrate?' Elinor looked at him approvingly. 'Exactly,' she said. 'What kind of part is going to pay enough to keep this house going indefinitely?' demanded Joshua, and Elinor gave him her blandest smile. 'The kind of part Danny might get. Don't forget he was in the television play that won the award last year.' 'You remember, Uncle Josh,' said Jill. 'The one about the lighthouse.' 'Of course I remember,' snapped Joshua. 'I also recall that it was the play that won the award, not Danny. His part lasted about five minutes.' 'But he was good,' said Jill softly, and Joshua said, 'He was excellent,' atoning for what had sounded waspish. 'I don't mean to belittle Danny. I simply feel we're putting out the flags too soon.' Elinor said patiently, 'Please pour yourself a large drink, Joshua, and a small sherry for me.' 'Jill?' said Joshua. Jill shook her head.

'I'm waiting for the champagne. Cheer up, Uncle Josh, it'll be all right, you see. You and Roger go and watch television and have a drink.' Having finished in the kitchen Elinor changed into her wide-sleeved gown in kingfisher blue that Danny called her Guinevere gear. It did have a Camelot quality, and in it Elinor Manning looked almost regal. 'Wow!' said Roger, as she swept into the room. 'Now,' said Elinor happily, 'all we have to do is wait for Danny, and all our troubles will be over. That's what he said.' 'Is it indeed?' muttered Joshua. 'I only hope he's right.' They turned off the television to hear the car when it turned into the drive, and Elinor posted herself at the window, watching the lights go by, waiting for the ones that didn't. Joshua read a newspaper. Roger and Jill debated which spot on the coast they should make for tomorrow. Jill was less enthusiastic than she had been now that Danny was coming home, he might only be here a little while and Sunday was her only free day. But she had more or less promised, so she nodded as Roger did the talking, and said yes, she'd be ready for an early start. 'Here he is!' shrilled Elinor Manning, and went hurrying, her long skirts swishing. Jill jumped up too, and Roger and Joshua followed at a staider pace. By the time Elinor had the front door open the car had stopped in front of it. There was enough light from the house to show the car clearly, and Roger said 'Wow I' again, and, 'It must be some contract if he can afford that.'

'That isn't Danny's car,' said Jill. 'It isn't Danny,' Elinor wailed. She was a step ahead, then her voice took on a joyful note. 'Oh, there he is. Now who -?' Danny came round the car, he had got out of the passenger seat, and his mother flung her arms around him, laughing and almost crying, and Danny laughed too, disentangling himself. Jill stood just outside the doorway. The man getting out of the driving seat was a stranger, but if Danny had brought him he was a friend and a guest. Danny had his hands full with his mother, who was drawing him into the house, begging, 'Tell me, tell me.' Jill waited for the stranger. 'Hello,' she said. He was tall, thin, and broad-shouldered, with a lean intelligent face. He held the hand she must have offered and looked down at her. Then he smiled, 'Hello, Jill.' Of course he'd know her name, Danny would have told him. She said, 'That's me, and who are you?' Danny turned. 'Connal, you must think it's a madhouse. Mother, Jill, Josh—this is the man I want you to meet. Connal Craig.' He produced the name with pride as though he was introducing a celebrity. And he was, although neither Roger nor Elinor could quite place him. Roger was frowning with the effort, Elinor's smile was puzzled. But Joshua and Jill knew, books being their business. And considering it had been a Connal Craig award-winning play in which Danny had appeared last year Jill felt her mother should have known too.

Joshua said, 'I am delighted to meet you, Mr. Craig.' 'Thank you, Mr. Aslett,' said Mr. Craig. So am I delighted, thought Jill. She hadn't read his books, although she could have run off the list of titles, and she knew he was a topline scriptwriter too. She'd start reading him on Monday; there were copies in the shop. 'Mr. Craig?' said Elinor, still puzzled, 'I should know you, shouldn't I? I should know your name?' 'You should,' said Danny affectionately, 'but he'll forgive you, because you have been known to forget your own name. Well, Connal, do you like it?' Connal Craig's eyes met Jill's. Only in a passing glance, he was not looking at her, he was looking around, but she felt a quickening of excitement like an electric shock tingling to her fingertips. She went on looking at him, enjoying the new sensation of meeting a man who could do this. Not by kissing her, but simply by looking at her. He said, 'It's charming.' 'Good,' said Danny with what sounded like heartfelt relief. 'That's it, then.' 'Danny?' Elinor's voice quavered. 'Is that what you meant when you told me not to sell—you've found a buyer?' Joshua reached to hold her, and she needed steadying, she was about to burst into tears. 'No, my darling,' said Danny. 'Nobody's putting you out of Sweet Orchard.' He cupped her face in two hands and kissed her. 'Connal is looking for somewhere nice and quiet in the country where he can

work. He writes, my darling. Books. And plays. And there's a flat going here, isn't there?' There was half a house they didn't need, and an income from that could make all the difference in the world. 'A lodger?' Elinor was still quavering. 'Oh—I don't think -' 'A flat could be almost self-contained,' said Danny. Elinor dithered, 'All the same—I don't know -' 'Yes,' said Jill. 'It's a marvellous idea.' 'Is it?' said Elinor. Jill and Connal smiled at each other. 'I think so,' he said. 'Welcome home, Mr. Craig,' said Jill.

CHAPTER TWO DANNY had everything worked out. The master bedroom— that no one had used since Elinor moved out after Charles' death—as a living room cum study, a bedroom as a bedroom, another room upstairs that could convert into a kitchen. He stood in the hall explaining what could be done, telling Craig 'They're all full of furniture under dust sheets, but you can see the size of the rooms, get some idea.' Elinor turned to Joshua. She was no longer contemptuous of his caution, she wanted advice. 'What do you think, Joshua?' she asked. 'How do you feel about it?' He felt rushed, but it had occurred to him before that accommodation might be let here. He had not mentioned it even to Jill, because he had been certain Elinor would have been horrified at the suggestion of 'turning Sweet Orchard into a boarding house.' But this was different. And so was Connal Craig. Joshua said, 'Everything being satisfactory, Mr. Craig, how long would you be staying here?' 'Everything being satisfactory,' said Craig, 'I'd like at least a twelve months' lease.' Jill smiled and said nothing. She was as sure as though a legal contract had already been drawn up and signed. None of the talk or the fuss was necessary, nor did any of it seem real. Words and faces blurred a little. All but Craig's. She could almost believe that she could speak to him and by-pass the others so that no one else would hear.

He was listening to Josh and Danny, answering Elinor— no, he would not require waiting on; yes, he would like to move in as soon as possible. But Jill knew that he was more aware of her than of the people he looked at or spoke to. It was like being on the edge of another dimension, with only one person quite clear, and that the man whose eyes met hers again, and who smiled and shrugged slightly. She laughed, and they all turned towards her. 'What's the joke?' asked Danny. This is, she thought. All this talk when it's settled. Connal Craig knew why she was laughing. She said, 'Don't you think we should open our one bottle of champagne?' Her mother moved into action. Elinor Manning was nothing if not an hospitable hostess, keeping a guest standing around was against all her principles. Besides the meal was ready and could spoil. Elinor said, 'Now I insist, not another word about business until we've eaten.' In the dining room Jill moved the settings around a little, to lay another place at table. She felt she should have known Connal Craig would be coming. Danny said, 'We are putting on the style I' He began to light the candles and Jill smiled across at him, 'Didn't the Guinevere gear prepare you? She doesn't wear that every night, you know. Uncle Josh -' she indicated the carver chair, 'if you'd take that chair. If you'd all sit down I'll give Mother a hand in the kitchen.' 'With the fatted calf?' said Danny. 'But of course,' said Jill.

Elinor had the trolley laden with covered dishes, and a striped maroon-and-white butcher's apron over her beautiful gown. She was still looking thoughtful. 'Do you think it will work out, Jill? You see, it couldn't be a completely separate establishment unless a great deal of work was done on the house. There would be times when we should be bound to meet each other.' 'What of it?' asked Jill. They had done less entertaining during the last few years, but this had always been an open house. Elinor said, 'Living here, not as a guest, you see. Although of course he is a friend of Danny's, and obviously a gentleman.' 'Oh yes,' said Jill. 'Very distinguished-looking,' said Elinor, finding that a comfort. 'Good breeding is unmistakable.' 'Unmistakable,' said Jill, keeping a grave face. 'So that's settled, then.' Elinor took off her apron, checked her appearance in the wall mirror and gave her hair an approving pat. 'We'll let the men talk it over and see to the business side, of course.' 'Will we?' said Jill. 'All right.' Elinor Manning would always consider finance a male preserve in spite of the fact that Jill had been handling the household accounts for years. Jill hoped Uncle Josh wouldn't mind casting an eye over the contract. It seemed he was still lumbered with their problems. In the dining room Roger was sitting beside an empty chair, Joshua Aslett was the other side and Roger had placed himself deliberately to sit next to Jill. But Connal Craig was opposite, which meant that Jill didn't even have to turn her head to look at him.

The meal was served, the wine poured, and Danny raised his glass, 'To the saving of Sweet Orchard, for the next twelve months at any rate.' Elinor felt it incumbent not to appear too eager to accept the deal. 'Well -' she murmured, 'there's a lot to be discussed,' and Danny said breezily, 'Nonsense, my darling, you'll love having a man about the house; and Connal isn't going to find a more suitable place anywhere.' 'You could be a trifle premature, my boy.' Joshua's manner was dry. 'Mr. Craig has not yet inspected the property.' He hoped Danny was not overdoing his sales technique. Connal Craig seemed a man who would make up his own mind, and pressure could rebound. 'Have you told him about the rats?' Roger grinned at Jill. This was a joke, but Roger was not too pleased at the talk of a man about the house. Especially this man. Roger had changed his mind about saving Sweet Orchard for the Mannings. He would have preferred to have seen Jill and her mother in the bungalow and Connal Craig property-hunting in another town. 'What rats?' asked Danny. 'We might have sold the house this afternoon,' said Jill, 'if Mother hadn't told the couple who came round that we had rats.' Elinor looked innocent. 'They wouldn't have been right for the house. Anyhow, I didn't tell them we had rats.' 'So the estate agent said,' said Jill. 'All you did was tell them the cat was a fantastic ratter but they'd better not go down the cellars.'

Elinor sipped her wine, enjoying herself. 'It's dusty down the cellars.' A smile played around her lips, and Danny said, 'She should have gone on the stage. She'd have made a great actress.' 'Perhaps I should.' She believed it, but she had neither the intelligence nor the stamina to compete or to fight. This was her sheltered stage, where she was a natural for the role she played. She said, 'Talking of the stage, you know what we thought when we talked over your phone call? We thought you'd landed a marvellous part and made your fortune.' Danny said wryly, 'One part doesn't make a fortune, my darling.' 'Of course not.' In the mellow candlelight she looked as young as her son, with her soft lips and her soft eyes. There were more lines on Danny's face, and a line cut between Jill's brows, watching her brother. 'But it would have been lovely, wouldn't it?' said Elinor in her dreaming voice. Danny drained his glass. 'Patience,' he said. 'That's the cardinal virtue in my game, and there are always one or two things in the air. By the way, I did think I might take a holiday now I'm down here. Can you put up with me for a week or two?' Elinor clapped her hands together, all smiles. Jill had hoped Danny might stay a while; she launched into an account of friends to meet and places to go, and Danny looked quizzical. 'Now don't get hustling, let's see how it goes.' Jill said blithely, 'Or you could start on the garden. Some good healthy country exercise. It's still the old motor mower, and it's still a brute.' 'Danny,' said Elinor, harking back, 'what are the things that are in the air?'

But he didn't want to talk about his prospects, Jill was sure. He'd obviously decided before that he was going to stay, but he had told them now to change the subject. She tried to help again, asking, 'Is it a book or a play that you're writing, Mr. Craig?' 'A book and a TV script,' said Craig. Danny ignored his mother's question and joined this conversation. 'Connal's just come back from Spain. He was out there through the winter, staying in a mountain village near Guadalest.' 'Do you always go to the places you write about?' asked Jill. 'The play about the lighthouse and the storm. Were you ever in a lighthouse in a storm like that?' 'I lived in a lighthouse for a while. And who hasn't lived through a storm?' He spoke lightly. Perhaps he was bored by a script he must have finished two years ago. Danny said, 'Just my luck, wasn't it? The first high wave got me.' Jill recalled the play as a gruelling and unforgettable experience. There had been a storm raging outside the lighthouse but the real storm had been in the hearts of the characters. The tempest had been that of human emotions. Now the man who had put that on paper sat opposite her. Some time she would ask him—Is it true? Are there such depths and such heights? Joshua Aslett was intrigued enough to lay down his knife and fork before he asked, 'You draw upon observation more than imagination, do you, Mr. Craig?' 'On both,' said Craig. He smiled, 'Although most of the time life makes more compulsive copy.' 'Next time,' said Elinor, 'you must write Danny a longer part.'

Craig smiled again. 'I'm afraid I don't do the casting, but he made a superb job of the last.' 'Thank you,' said Danny. 'It was one hell of a script.' 'Was it?' Elinor was uncertain whether that was a compliment, until Danny shook his head in awe. 'I'll never forget it. Not my part nor anyone else's.' Jill felt a little awed herself. Not least by the realisation that after Danny disappeared from the screen her mother hadn't bothered to follow another word. When midnight struck it might have been Cinderella the way Roger jumped to his feet. The two hours since ten o'clock had slipped by. He had been explaining how the engine worked in the car outside that Connal Craig had bought last week when he got back from abroad. He looked at Jill. 'If we're hoping to get to Weston tomorrow I'd better get home tonight. Collect you at eight?' 'I'm sorry.' 'What do you mean?' 'I'm sorry,' she repeated, 'but I can't possibly go out for the day now. I've too much to do here. We'll be reorganising the house.' 'You won't be moving furniture, will you?' She smiled, 'I shouldn't be surprised. In any case I want to see what furniture they're moving.' 'Oh!' Roger was utterly unimpressed by this excuse. He said goodnight grimly all round, and Jill went out after him into the hall.

She opened the front door, and he showed his perception by saying, 'If he's staying for twelve months you'll have time to get acquainted, without hanging around tomorrow as well.' We're acquainted, she thought. Instant empathy. It never happened to me before. She said again, 'Sorry.' 'I'll bet you are,' snapped Roger. She felt guilty as he scowled at her, and winced when he slammed the door behind him with sufficient force for the sound to reach them in the dining room. Danny was laughing when she got back. 'Can we cross him off?' he asked. 'Shut up,' said Jill sweetly. He turned to Connal. 'When my sister was in her pram she fluttered her eyelashes more effectively than most women do after years of practice.' 'Not true,' she said. It wasn't true. She had never fluttered her eyelashes, she had never needed to. 'It's a pity about Roger, though. I'm thinking of buying a new car. I might have got one at cost.' Danny's teasing was like old times. 'You should have told me,' she exclaimed. 'Would it have made any difference?' 'None at all.' 'You see.' He appealed to Connal. 'She's quite heartless. That's why I left home young, before any of my sister's rejects were big enough to start taking it out on me.'

'You wouldn't believe he was such a coward, would you?' said Jill. 'Unless you knew him well.' The candles were flaring in the draught from the open door. When she closed the door they settled down again into a steady glow. Danny leaned back in his chair, smiling. Joshua and Elinor were smiling too, everyone was relaxed and warm. But Connal sitting there put an edge on things for Jill. She felt as though she had drunk a bottle of champagne instead of one glass, and although she should have been weary she was sorry the companionable part of the evening was over. Still sitting, Elinor reached languidly for sideplates and began to stack them, and Jill said, 'Not tonight. In the morning.' 'Yes, I think so,' Elinor agreed. 'Mr. Craig, if the guest room will be all right for you tonight?' Craig went with Danny, and when they were safely out of hearing Elinor whispered, 'Joshua, it is going to work out, isn't it?' Joshua was comfortable again. He liked being asked for advice; And he was glad that Danny had come up with a feasible compromise and the house need not be sold. 'I really don't see why not, my dear,' he said. 'There will have to be a legal contract, of course.' 'Oh, of course.' Elinor looked vague. 'But the immediate question is which rooms Mr. Craig wants to take over, and how he'll want them arranged.' Jill said, 'Uncle Josh, are you doing anything tomorrow?' 'I am not moving furniture around, my dear.' Joshua was adamant, and Jill smiled cajolingly,

'I wouldn't dream of asking you.' She fixed him with the big beseeching eyes of gentle blackmail. 'I was wondering if you and Mother would like to go out for the day,' 'But I don't know that I want to go out,' protested Elinor. 'I really think that I should be here.' She would be no help and might be a hindrance, and Joshua said obligingly, 'We could go and spend the day with Harriet.' Harriet Aslett was his only living relative, a cousin, a retired welfare officer, living in a cottage in the Cotswolds. 'Oh!' said Elinor flatly. 'Well -' 'Excellent,' said Joshua. 'I'll call for you in the morning —and now I really must be going home.' He took Elinor's hand. 'I'm sure that Charles would have admired Connal Craig's work. He is an exceptionally gifted young man. Quite a celebrity.' He left Elinor thinking how pleasant it would be to introduce a celebrity to all her friends, and went to collect his coat. Jill put his coat on for him in the hall, then kissed him on the cheek, and said fervently, 'You are kind.' 'Indeed I am,' said Joshua with feeling. 'It might have been less fatiguing helping to move the furniture than spending the day with Elinor and Harriet.' Elinor Manning and Harriet Aslett had nothing in common. Harriet considered Elinor spoiled and silly, Elinor thought Harriet was boring and dull. Between them Joshua would have quite a day. Jill laughed softly, 'That's your good deed for the week.'

'A good deed like this should cover at least six months,' but Joshua went on smiling to himself, walking the quarter mile home. Even if Connal Craig did leave at the end of the year the apartment would still be there, Elinor would have become accustomed to sharing her home. Financially the future of Sweet Orchard seemed vastly improved.

Jill woke early to a new excitement, and lay for a while luxuriating in the glow of knowing that Connal was under the same roof, and staying. Then she remembered her promise to clear away the supper debris, and yawned and stretched, then shrugged herself into a dressing gown and padded downstairs. It was so early that Tab in the hall couldn't do more than peer at her through slitted green eyes, and curl up again into a slumbering ball of fur. But Danny was already in the kitchen, with the kettle on a gas ring. Jill was startled, seeing him. He was the last one she had expected. Danny usually went to bed late and slept late. She asked, 'What got you up?' 'I woke.' He was in pyjamas and dressing gown, bare feet in brown rather scruffy mules. 'And I couldn't get off again, so I thought I might as well come down. But now you're here you can brew up.' He sat on the table edge, and he looked tired. She asked, 'Sleep well until then?' 'Not so badly.' The early light was clear and harsh, showing what she had missed last night—a pallor, a strain, perhaps a little weight lost. Although she could be imagining it all, shaved and spruced he would look as different again.

Anyhow, while he was here he would be fed properly, and he would have to rest and take things quietly. She got the teapot, took down the tea caddy, and asked, 'How long have you known Connal?' 'I first met him when I was in his play.' He yawned as he talked. 'I heard a week or two ago that he was coming back from Spain and looking for a place in the country, and when I got Mother's note— and that was tear-stained, I can tell you—I wondered whether Sweet Orchard might fit the book. He'll pay well.' He told her a figure and she whistled soundlessly. 'We'd be sitting pretty with that.' 'I shouldn't be surprised if he'd sign a longer lease, because he's looking for a permanent base. Somewhere to keep books and files, and do his writing. He's always used digs and hotels, and he does travel a lot. He'd still pay the rent when he wasn't here.' 'Sounds marvellous.' 'I thought so. Tailor-made, I thought.' 'Do you know him well?' 'I've met him a few times. I like him, he's certainly a force to reckon with.' He added, 'And I wouldn't mind playing in anything he writes.' Then he asked, 'Do you like him?' She said honestly, 'Very much.' 'I thought so.' He grinned, and she had been mistaken— this was still the old Danny. 'He isn't married, by the way.' Now why had she taken that for granted? She'd never even thought to ask. 'But he's not the marrying type,' said Danny, 'so there's a real challenge for you. You could meet your match there.'

She laughed and the kettle whistled. As she poured the boiling water into the pot she said, 'Uncle Josh is taking Mother out for the day. They're going to Harriet's.' Danny was surprised. 'Does Harriet know?' 'It was only arranged last night before Uncle Josh went home, so I shouldn't think so.' She put milk and sugar in three cups, and stirred the tea to hurry the brewing. 'That's all right,' she decided, pouring and checking. 'Take her this up and get her moving. It will be better to have her right out of the way while we're reorganising, won't it?' Danny agreed, 'Lord, yes. We don't want any scenes, we don't want Connal changing his mind.' He picked up the cup and saucer. 'You're a canny little thing.' She smiled at him. 'And so are you.' 'Yeah.' But although he smiled his eyes seemed in shadow. She drank a little tea, and told herself there was nothing to worry about. Danny had chosen an overcrowded profession, and there had to be times when he was discouraged. He could never bear to be second best. Their mother talking wistfully about the marvellous part they'd thought he might have landed, even Connal Craig's achieved success, could have made Danny feel depressed. Everyone has moods, moments of self-doubt. But they pass, and Danny certainly needed a holiday. Or a change, and today would be a change all right. She went to phone Joshua, who sounded as though the phone had woken him. 'Uncle Josh? Would you like to fetch her so that we can start shifting?' 'Is that a question or an order?'

Jill giggled. 'Give my love to Harriet. Tell her I'd like to have been coming down myself.' 'You would have been welcome,' said Joshua lugubriously. 'She likes you.' He sighed, faced with a day of infighting on Elinor's part and plain speaking on Harriet's, regretting too late the offer that had got him into this predicament. 'Bless you,' said Jill, and hung up. Elinor was not happy either. She came downstairs looking mutinous, and announced the moment she set eyes on Jill, 'I'm sorry I promised to go now.' 'Ah, but you did,' said Jill. 'Orange juice, and a boiled egg.' The orange juice was on the table, and the pinger was pinging time-up for the' egg. Danny kept up a flow of chatter while Elinor sipped her orange juice, and managed to avert a firm declaration that Elinor was staying. She was still saying, 'You will be careful what you're doing, won't you? You won't change things around too much?' when Joshua arrived. But she did go to put on her hat and coat. Joshua Aslett looked out of the kitchen window at the sunshine that was now bathing the lawn, and grunted when Jill said tactlessly, 'It's going to be a lovely day.' 'Uncle Josh,' said Danny gently, 'please keep her out of the house for a reasonable length of time, but you're not committed to taking her down to Harriet's, are you? There are other places you could visit.' Joshua cheered up. 'You are absolutely right, my boy.' When Elinor reappeared, fragile in palest pinks and lilacs, he said, 'If you'd rather not go to Harriet's we could drive into Wales.'

'Oh!' said Elinor, as though she was being deprived of a treat. 'Why shouldn't I want to go to Harriet's?' 'Because you can't stand each other,' Danny suggested, and Elinor laughed merrily, 'Nonsense, I'm very fond of Harriet. And I shall bring back some of her free-range eggs.' Jill clapped a hand across her mouth, and Danny's shoulders shook with silent laughter as Joshua and Elinor left. Danny said, still laughing, 'She doesn't want to go and she isn't making it easy for anybody. I hope Harriet gives as good as she gets.' 'You don't need to worry about Harriet either,' said Jill. 'It's Uncle Josh I'm sorry for.' 'He's a good old stick,' said Danny. 'Let's get moving before his nerve cracks and he brings her back!' Jill washed and dressed, putting on blue denims and a scarlet and white check shirt, which she rolled up at the sleeves for a workmanlike appearance. Her skin was smooth and shining, with the healthy glow that meant she had taken pains and a good ten minutes applying her make-up. The two men were in the kitchen when she went down. Danny was frying bacon, Connal was pouring out milk for the cat. They were talking, and they stopped talking as she came in. Danny asked, 'You want bacon?' 'If it's in the pan,' said Jill. Connal said nothing. He put down the milk bottle on the top of the fridge and looked at her and smiled, and her heart soared and sang

and it was a little frightening to find that last night's magic was as potent by day. She smiled too. She said nothing while she smiled. Then she began to lay the table, and joined in the discussion of what furniture might suit the rooms Connal might choose. They got through the meal quickly and went into the study to look at the desk. A writer needed a desk and this was the only one in the house. Fine, he said, so long as they could manage to get it up the stairs. Upstairs he approved the rooms Danny had suggested, and they went around, taking off dust sheets, making lists of what was to be moved out and what brought in, finally reaching the stage where the talking had to stop and the work begin. Danny took off his jacket and tossed it over the back of a chair. He said, 'Pity you've signed off Roger Gardner, we could have used some strong-arm support. There has to be someone else you can call on.' Jill was carrying the clip-board with the lists. She finished writing 'ladder-back chair' and said, 'There's Paul Allen.' 'Who?' asked Danny. 'He joined the staff of the Polytechnic at Easter. He teaches art. I'm sure he'd help with the light weights, but he might slip a disc if we got him humping the heavy.' She slipped the ballpoint pen into the breast pocket of her shirt. 'Do we need someone else? I'll phone around if we do.' 'That's my girl!' said Danny.

Connal laughed. 'Keep the phone book handy in case we need reinforcements.' They managed. By taking out all the drawers they got the large bowfronted desk out of the study up into the master bedroom, with Jill hovering anxiously on the landing. Danny panted as he heaved, 'Even scenery shifting can reap dividends. Where did you get your practice?' 'Glasgow docks,' said Connal, manoeuvring round the curve of the staircase. 'It's all a matter of pivot points.' Jill leaned over the banisters, almost holding her breath until they reached the top. 'Don't stand there,' said Danny. 'Run down and fetch the drawers up. Every little helps.' By mid-afternoon the apartment was beginning to take shape and the readjustment of Sweet Orchard was well under way. Connal had books and personal belongings that would be arriving during the week. Luckily no furniture, there was more than enough here, especially as his tastes favoured space rather than clutter. One of the rooms upstairs had always been the junk room, and they added the leftover furniture to what was already there, packing it close and piling it high. Jill fed the men a bread, cheese, and pickles lunch. She wasn't moving heavy furniture, but she was cleaning and dusting, and she was left with no time for cooking. When the end seemed in sight she slipped off to bath and change, and hurry downstairs to wash up last night's dishes and make a spaghetti bolognese. As a meal it was quick and filling, and she carried it into the drawing room so that everyone could sprawl in comfortable chairs. When she got in Danny appeared to be asleep. Connal was reading a

book he had collected from the study. He took the tray from her and put it on the low table, and she stood in front of Danny looking down at him. 'No stamina,' she said. His eyes stayed closed. 'How you have the gall I do not know,' he said faintly. 'Do you want food?' 'Does it need chewing?' 'No.' 'Yes.' He sat up and took his plate, and they all ate in silence for a few minutes. Then Danny looked at the painting over the mantelpiece. 'Is that by the artist from the Poly?' 'Mmm,' said Jill on a mouthful of spaghetti. 'Looks like an advert for inner cleanliness,' Danny pronounced. She didn't ask Connal what he thought about it and he didn't say. He was looking at her, not the painting, as she turned to meet his eyes. She had no make-up on now, there hadn't been time, but it didn't matter. He liked what he saw and so did she. She was hooked, deliciously and dangerously. She could have sat here for hours, just sitting and talking and loving every minute because they were together. Nothing like this had ever happened to her before, a charge of happiness like adrenalin in her bloodstream. The phone rang in the hall and she got up to answer it. So did Danny. He was farther from the door than Jill, and deeper in his chair, so that it took him a few seconds longer to get into the hall. But he reached the phone first and said,

'Yes?' Then he smiled and said 'Hello,' and listened for a moment and offered the receiver to Jill. 'Paulene.' Jill took it. Paulene had heard that Danny was home, and that Sweet Orchard was not going to be sold after all. Mrs. Manning had told several customers in the butchers. Paulene wanted to know what was happening, and Jill explained that a friend of Danny's might be taking over half the house. She went into no details, but before she left the phone she had somehow invited Paulene over next Saturday evening, and that meant other friends too. They'd all expect to be asked round. They were all Danny's friends. Danny's friends ... Danny had hurried to take the phone call as if he had thought it would be for him, but his 'Yes?' had been harsh as though he had been expecting bad news. She bit on her lower lip as she went back into the drawing room and Danny grimaced at her. 'Paulene wants to know all about it, doesn't she? They're a nosy lot in this town. But they're so open about it that you can't slap them down.' So he had just been irritated and then decided it didn't matter. Jill said, 'I asked her over next Saturday. Would you mind if we had a party?' Danny yawned. 'What's the use of minding, they'll come. I'm shagged out, would you mind if I hit the hay for an hour?' He had an excuse for weariness, so did Connal, although he looked less jaded. Jill watched Danny go and heard herself sigh. Connal asked, 'What is it?' 'I don't know. Danny looks thinner, I think.'

'Does he? He seems fit enough to me.' He carried more flesh than Connal on a smaller frame, but Connal had the hard leanness of an athlete. 'You're very close, aren't you?' he said. 'Your family and your friends?' 'Yes.' 'Although you don't see much of your brother.' 'We're still close. We always have been.' The memories of childhood were cosy and warm as she wandered back down the years. He listened intently, questioning her as though he was building up a picture, and because she wanted him to share she told him everything he asked. Not that there was anything spectacular to tell, she had had a pleasant and ordinary life. Her job was ordinary too, although she enjoyed it. The bookshop, and Uncle Josh. 'I know more about old books than new ones,' she confessed. 'I haven't read any of yours, but I'll start tomorrow.' 'Don't bother,' he said, smiling, 'I'll tell you what they're about.' 'I'd like that.' But she'd still read them. Uncle Josh seemed to think he had written mostly from his own experiences. She said, 'Now tell me the story of your life. Start with your childhood. Where were you born?' 'In the Gorbals.' That astonished her. As her mother had said, he looked so distinguished, with the cool assurance of an establishment

background and an expensive education. 'Do you have any family?' she asked. 'No. My mother died when I was a child, my father was killed in the docks.' She wondered if he remembered either, he spoke so calmly, until he said, 'We both worked there, he and I. I'd only been there a couple of months. I left after that.' When he had said 'Glasgow docks' she had thought he meant gathering background for a script. She asked, 'And then?' 'I worked down a coalmine in Wales. Six months later I wrote an account of an underground explosion that a local newspaper printed and a national newspaper took up.' He smiled. 'From then on that was it. I went on writing. I moved around. I'm still moving around, but I'm beginning to feel that I'd like somewhere to come back to.' She said, 'Come back here.' 'Yes,' he said. So everything had slipped into place. Everything that had happened to him had been bringing him here at last to where she had always been waiting. It was inevitable, decreed. Life was so strange, so wonderful.

The next week was wonderful. She had believed she was fully alive before, but when she was with Connal her mind and her body seemed tuned to a faster and immensely more exhilarating pace. When she got into the shop on Monday morning Uncle Josh had collected several of his books. Second-hand ones, paperbacks and hardbacks. He said, 'We should sell these like hot cakes as soon as they know Connal Craig's living here.'

'Not till I've read them,' said Jill. She read skimmingly because customers and business kept interrupting, but the passages she did read were compelling, and as soon as she had time she was going to really study them from beginning to end. She asked Josh, 'Have you read them all?' 'Not all,' he admitted. 'To tell the truth, I find Mr. Craig's style a shade disturbing for my taste. I prefer my literature escapist.' She laughed and felt sorry for him. Dear Uncle Josh, who really preferred life to be escapist. There was a flurry of excitement in town with the news that a bestselling author had moved into Sweet Orchard. Danny kept guard more or less, or Elinor would have intruded on Craig's privacy several times when friends called who would have liked to meet him. He worked solidly during the day in his study-living room, and nobody must knock on that door. The evenings he and Jill spent together. For her the working day had never dragged before, she had never been so eager to get away at six o'clock. She cancelled every other date ruthlessly. Until now she had been considerate of other people's feelings. She had never deliberately hurt anyone. But that week she was blunt to the point of callousness. She told Paul Allen that she couldn't see him on Wednesday evening, and she told him why. He was a sensitive and understanding young man, he had accepted that he was not the only man in Jill's life and he was prepared to settle for a later date. He and Jill were good friends, he hoped at least to keep it that way. But Jill said no. He could come along on Saturday evening to Sweet Orchard if he liked, a few friends were coming. But she did not want to go out with him again alone.

She didn't really want the company of any man but Connal Craig. Danny might have worried about her except that she was not a child, and both she and Connal seemed to be satisfied with the present state of things. Elinor said that by this time next month Jill would very likely have changed her mind, but Mr. Craig hardly appeared a man who'd break his heart, so why fuss? Joshua Aslett raised grizzled eyebrows once or twice when Connal phoned the shop and Jill dropped everything to talk to him. He had never seen Jill act this way before. Other girls, yes, but this was the first time Jill had shown signs of losing her head over a man. He found her radiance no reassurance, but rather proof that she was going through a blind and probably short-lived infatuation. 'It won't last,' Joshua reflected. He picked up one of Craig's books and sighed over it, afraid that one way or the other this would be a bad business for Jill. On Saturday Elinor prepared a buffet supper for the visitors who were coming as much to meet Connal Craig as to see Danny. The numbers had increased each day, thirty at the last count, and several friends had given Elinor a hand with the canapes and sandwiches. Roger Gardner was coming too, and Jill hoped there would be no kind of trouble with him because he wasn't accepting his dismissal gracefully. He had mentioned around that he intended having it out with Jill tonight. He wanted to be told just what she thought she was doing, dropping him without a word except 'Sorry' as she shut the door on him last Saturday night. Paulene went into the shop to tell Jill that, this Saturday afternoon, and Jill went home afterwards wondering whether to ask Danny to keep close, or whether to tell Connal. Or whether to say nothing and hope for the best.

She helped with the final buffet arrangements, changed into her party dress, still undecided, and knocked on Connal's door. He called, 'Jill?' 'Yes.' 'Come in.' He was wearing a dark suit and looked ready to meet the company, although he was still at the desk working. He asked, 'What's the matter?' 'It's nothing really.' She told him and he said, 'You don't want him bothering you?' 'No, I don't.' He didn't smile as he spoke. He said, 'Then you'd better marry me. I promise you I'd keep the rest away.'

CHAPTER THREE 'THIS is—a joke?' It had to be, but why wasn't Connal smiling? He said, 'No.' He got up from the desk and crossed the room to where Jill stood. 'Will you marry me?' 'Why not?' she heard herself say. He kissed her, and no one else stopped her heart when they touched her, no one else ever had. Of course she wanted to marry him. He looked down at her in the circle of his arms. 'We'd better tell your family.' 'I suppose so.' It was crazy, but it was hard to believe there was anything outside this room. Ever since she met Connal no one else had seemed quite real. Of course her family must be told. She murmured, 'What are they going to say?' 'Let's find out.' The guests would start arriving any time, but none had come yet. In the dining room, where the buffet was laid, Elinor Manning was fussing with a plate of mixed candies and Danny was pouring himself a drink. Through the open dining room door Elinor saw them coming down the stairs, Connal with his arm around Jill's shoulders. They had been almost inseparable companions this week, but something was different now. It was the way he held Jill. There had been nothing demonstrative before. Obviously he was attracted to Jill, but Elinor could not recall even seeing them hold hands. Coming in or going out in the evenings Jill had sometimes slipped a hand through Connal's arm, that was all, and that was a habit of Jill's. But this was different, and Elinor watched them and waited.

Danny looked up as they came into the room. Connal glanced around, checking if anyone else was there, then said, 'We have news for you. Jill is going to marry me.' Danny's jaw dropped and the glass almost slipped through his fingers. He spluttered, 'I—can't believe it!' Jill's eyes were shining. 'And why can't you believe it?' Danny put down his glass and gestured helplessly, comically at a loss for words. 'I—well—I tell you, you two certainly haven't wasted much time!' 'Are you glad?' Jill asked softly. He had never seen his sister with that glow in her eyes before. He kissed her soundly. 'Of course I'm glad.' He shook Connal's hand. 'For both of you.' Then he turned to his mother. 'How about this?' Elinor Manning was self-possessed, although the abruptness of the announcement had shaken her too. She had always expected Jill to marry, she was such a popular girl, and Mr. Craig—Connal— seemed suitable in every way, and it was lovely that Jill was in love at last. She said sweetly, 'What can I say? Except that I hope my little girl will be as happy as I was.' She looked at the buffet table and remembered all the friends who would be coming, and thought how very well timed it all was. 'Do we announce the engagement tonight?' 'Yes,' said Connal. Elinor smiled. This was going to be a memorable evening. She mused, thinking aloud, 'A pity Jill doesn't have a ring to show.' 'We'll rectify that on Monday,' said Connal gravely.

'When are you getting married?' asked Danny, and Elinor said, 'Danny!' as though the question was indelicate, 'Not for some time, of course.' Love at first sight was romantic, but a wedding needed planning and arranging. 'Next week,' said Connal. Elinor's cry drowned Jill's gasp. Jill looked at Connal; her mother's voice was a murmur far away, although Elinor Manning was launched into a shrill stream of protest. 'Friday?' said Connal quietly. 'Could we get a licence ?' 'Yes.' 'All right,' she said. 'Friday.' Then she heard her mother. 'Oh no—oh, that's quite out of the question. What would people say—or think -' Danny was laughing. 'My old darling, what are you talking about?' 'It isn't—I mean -' Elinor was floundering now, almost weeping. 'There's so much to do before a wedding. I won't have my daughter's marriage a hole-and-corner affair. No one to see it, no one- -' Danny suggested, 'Invite the lot who are coming tonight, that's a fair-sized congregation to start with,' The doorbell rang. 'Saved by the bell,' said Danny, 'and you'd better accept it, because they're going to please themselves.' 'Oh ...!' fumed Elinor. She looked at Craig, who smiled at her, but he didn't look like Charles or Joshua and she knew that nothing she said would change his decisions.

On the other hand he must be very much in love with Jill, and he would be a man to lean on. Jill would be cherished and Sweet Orchard would be safe. Elinor became frail and fluttery, shook her head at them both and said faintly. 'I shall be a nervous wreck before Friday. I shall look a hundred years old.' She pressed light fingertips to her temples. 'And will somebody please answer the doorbell?' Danny went, and let in the first foursome, and Elinor calmed down enough to murmur, 'We must wait until they're all here before we make the announcement,' as she followed Danny into the hall with hands outstretched to greet her guests. They had come to meet Danny's friend, the best-selling author, but they didn't know yet that he was about to become Elinor Manning's son-in-law. That secret gave spring to Elinor's step, and kept a small triumphant smile hovering during the greetings and introductions, and the first half hour or so of the party. Everyone here tonight knew Sweet Orchard well, they had all been friends and neighbours for years. Most of them remembered Charles, they all followed Danny's career and they were looking forward to meeting Connal Craig. They'd seen his television plays, some had read his books, and meeting him in the flesh gave the evening a swinging start. Paul Allen came, and Roger Gardner. Paul looked mournfully at Jill, and Roger looked with less friendliness. Connal standing beside her was probably keeping Roger from making a scene, and his vanity was soothed a little because Paulene smiled every time he looked her way. Elinor made the announcement. She checked off their names mentally as they arrived, and she waited until everyone had a drink and there was plenty of noise, then she whispered to Connal, 'Now?'

'By all means,' he said. 'Everybody,' trilled Elinor. 'Everybody, please, I've some wonderful news to tell you!' They hushed expectantly. She reached for Jill's hand and for Connal's. 'My daughter and my very new son. Jill and Connal are getting married.' Now here was something they could discuss for days. Connal Craig marrying Jill Manning! A friend of Danny's, wasn't he, and how long had he known Jill? Only a week? A week? Did you say a week? Then someone asked when the wedding was to be, and 'Next Friday' tossed a second bombshell into the company. Jill was wishing they had waited with the announcement so that he hadn't had to face everyone hearing at once. She didn't mind her friends knowing, of course, but their main reaction was astonishment as though she had done something terribly wild and daring. The guests close to her were smiling, but the ones talking between themselves farther away were looking uncertain. She could have lipread what some of them were saying. 'Getting married in less than a fortnight is taking a chance, isn't it?' Although some of the girls probably added, 'It's a chance I wouldn't mind taking.' Paulene said, 'How do you do it? You can't go wrong, can you? You put up Sweet Orchard for sale and someone like that comes along. Doesn't it ever scare you, being this lucky?' 'Yes,' said Jill. It did scare her when she stopped to think. Maybe she would wake up one morning and it would have been a dream. She touched

Connal's arm, and he turned from a man with whom he was talking politics of all things and asked, 'All right?' 'Of course,' she said. He was real. This was happening. Although life had been almost dreamlike since she met him. The party seemed to go on and on, but the guests went at last, and there came a time when the clearing away was done and Connal had gone to his room, and Elinor to hers, and Jill found herself in the drawing room with Danny. Danny looked up at her portrait and said, 'Poor slob.' 'What?' 'He was fond of you.' Paul, presumably. 'He went pale while Mother was saying her piece.' Jill hadn't noticed. She hadn't been looking Paul's way. She sighed, 'Oh dear,' as Danny added, 'And he left early.' She hadn't noticed that either. Perhaps she should have done, others certainly would. She hadn't seen Paul go and she hadn't missed him, and yet only a few days ago he had brought her this painting. She said, slightly on the defensive, 'I'm sorry about that, but we were only friends.' 'I know,' said Danny, 'we make friends easily, you and I.' She suspected that he had stayed downstairs for the chance of talking to her alone, he looked so grim that it had to be important. He said, 'No fooling here, Jilly, go carefully here,' and she had never heard him sound so serious, 'because Craig isn't like the others, you can't play this one along.'

She said indignantly, 'I have never played any man along!' 'No,' said Danny, 'I don't think you have intentionally. But you are used to getting your own way, even Uncle Josh would burn down the shop if you asked him, only don't make any mistakes about Craig. You won't twist him round your little finger.' 'I should never try to.' She smiled wryly. 'You make me sound a horrible brat.' 'A bit of a brat.' Danny began to smile, happier with this role than with that of the heavy brother. 'Life's been an ivory tower for you, my child, you don't reckon on an enemy in the world, do you?' He turned serious again to ask, 'But you are in love with him?' 'I am crazy about him,' said Jill, without lightness, with wonder. 'Then it will be all right,' said Danny. 'And you are glad about it?' His misgivings seems assuaged. He said heartily, 'I'm very glad. I'm honestly very glad.' It wasn't surprising that she found it hard to sleep that night, and that when she did she turned in a perpetual whirlpool of dreams without beginning or end. She was un- rested and tossing still as dawn broke. Only then did she fall into deep slumber, to be shaken awake by her mother hissing, 'Wake up, Jill! You can't lie in bed all morning, there are hundreds of things to be done.' 'What time is it?' She could hardly open her eyes. 'Nine o'clock.'

At nine o'clock on a Sunday morning after a late night usually Elinor would not have been stirring herself, but now she was in a ferment of agitation. Last night had been delightful, making the announcement and staggering all the guests. She couldn't remember enjoying herself more. She had slept like a babe, and woken incredulous—they couldn't have meant it when they said 'Next Friday,' they must have been joking. It was impossible they should be getting married on Friday. She had looked in on Jill and then decided that it was Mr. Craig—it still wasn't easy to think of him as Connal—who seemed to be making the decisions and had better be consulted at once. She had gone into Danny's room and commanded, 'Get up and go and ask Connal if he really meant they're getting married on Friday. They can't be, can they? Not that soon.' 'If Connal said it,' said Danny, 'he meant it.' Now Jill sat up, rubbing her eyes, echoing, 'Hundreds of things? What kind of things?' Her mother, who had just shaken her awake, looked as though she could shake her again. 'The reception's going to be here, I suppose?' 'I don't know.' 'Well, of course it is. Are you being married in church or in a register office?' 'I should think in the register office.'

'Guests!' Elinor shrieked. 'We have to send out the invitations. If we don't get them off by tomorrow no one's going to have time to reply. Do get up, Jill.' Jill obeyed. It was no use saying, 'Don't let's bother with a lot of guests,' because her mother would take no notice. While Jill boiled a kettle for tea, and made herself a strong black coffee, Elinor started writing, going through her address book and getting a long list in alphabetical order. 'We can't afford a big reception,' Jill pleaded. 'We shall manage,' said Elinor airily. She was on the Gs now, burrowing like a beaver, and reading over her shoulder Jill saw 'Aslett, Joshua and Harriet' heading the list. 'I'd better phone Uncle Josh,' said Jill. Elinor turned another page. 'Before someone else breaks the news to him. He wouldn't like that.' Joshua Aslett had not been at Sweet Orchard last night. He enjoyed small select gatherings, not a house full of people. He exclaimed 'What?' and Jill had to repeat, 'I'm getting married to Connal.' 'Are you now?' 'Next Friday.' 'My God!' Joshua's voice shook. 'You must both be out of your minds.' She laughed at him, 'A little, Uncle Josh, but we're very happy.'

She was happy, although from then on it was like stepping on a carousel, non-stop and hectic from morning till night. All Sunday they seemed to be dealing with invitations, the phone ringing, friends turning up to check that it was this Friday, and where and when. Joshua came, and paced around sunk in gloom until Danny said, 'It's a wedding, Josh, not a funeral', then he tried hard to appear less mournful. Connal was up in his room, writing letters; no one could blame him, it was chaos downstairs; but Joshua did corner Jill for a moment and demanded, 'Why this frantic hurry? Why can't you wait, if it's only for a week or two?' Jill kissed his cheek and said gaily, 'Because that's the way of it, and it's marvellous, and like you say—we're out of our minds.' Then a girl with long fair hair grabbed her and said, 'Jilly, can I be a bridesmaid? I've got this velvet suit I can wear. What are you going to wear?' Jill didn't knew. She didn't know the answer to half the things they kept asking her... 'Where are you going for your honeymoon?' 'We haven't had time to discuss it.' ... 'Shall you have an engagement ring? If you're getting married on Friday I suppose you'll just settle for a wedding ring.' 'I don't know. It's all been so sudden, you see. I don't know.. She did have an engagement ring. On Monday Connal took her to a jeweller's in the next town. It was a larger town and the selection in the store was extensive. Two trays of rings were brought out and Jill stared at them, wonderingly. 'They're all quite beautiful,' she said. 'I really don't know.'

She must have sounded spoiled for choice because not only did the manager offer suggestions—it was after all his livelihood—but a middle-aged lady, with her own tray of eternity rings and a pleasantlooking husband, joined in too, smiling encouragement when Jill tried on a three-stone sapphire band. Then Jill picked up a garnet chip cluster in the lower price range, because it was attractive and she had no idea what figure she could go to. 'That's pretty,' said the lady approvingly. 'Isn't it?' said Jill. 'Oh, I like this.' It fitted her and she smiled up at Connal, 'Do you?' 'I like this better.' He took out the diamond solitaire, so plainly the pick of the selection that Jill hadn't even considered it. The manager's smile became that of a connoisseur recognising another, and the lady who had applauded everything said 'Mmm,' and closed her eyes and screwed up her face in rapture. That ring fitted Jill too. She had never thought to have a ring like this. The price tag was on it, he must have seen it, but she was apprehensive and would have been happy with less. She asked, 'Are you sure?' 'Do you like it?' 'Of course, but -' She left the shop, wearing it, and the manager congratulated them, and the middle-aged couple wished them luck. The lady confided 'It's our wedding anniversary this week. Thirty years. And I'm having a new ring too.' Thirty good years, her smile said, they looked loving together, she and her husband, and Jill thought— thirty years. That's eight years longer than I've lived.

Connal could be around thirty. Or perhaps younger. She must ask him as soon as there was time. And when his birthday was. He knew hers. She had told him she was Sagittarius. They talked about the honeymoon on the way back. They would spend a fortnight touring the Loire valley. There was so much to arrange, so much to be organised before the wedding. She had to hurry back now for a conference with the caterers about the menu for the reception. On Tuesday she got her wedding dress. She might well have used something she already had, she had pretty clothes that Connal hadn't seen, but Elinor Manning was shocked at the suggestion. A register office wedding was bad enough without having the bride in an outfit that any number of guests might recognise. So Jill went along to her mother's favourite shop, 'Monique's', the smartest dress shop in town, which sold the lines with the couture names, and Jill didn't use it much because it was also the most expensive. But this was a special occasion, and 'Monique's' was the only place Elinor Manning could trust to deal with it. Madame Monique and her two assistants were helpful and thrilled. Monique was Mrs. Monica Farmer to her friends, and numbered Elinor Manning among them. And she was delighted, as friend as well as saleswoman, when Jill and her mother turned up for Jill's wedding dress. They gasped over the engagement ring as though it was the Hope Diamond. Then they brought out three dresses that might suit, all long: a dark red plushy dress, a pink-and- white in an Empire style, and a gown in supple lurexed jersey, and a colour combination of golds and russets. It had bell sleeves caught at the wrists, a tight bodice and a full skirt, and a hood.

When the golden hood was raised it made a soft and flattering frame for Jill's face, and her beige hair seemed to catch the gleaming glints. 'I wonder now.' Elinor stood back and frowned. 'It would be some help if you knew what kind of clothes Connal likes.' Jill said, 'He's never objected to anything I've worn.' 'Don't you even know his favourite colour?' 'No, I don't.' The youngest assistant grinned across at Jill, 'You've only known him a week, haven't you? You'll have a lot to find out about him.' Jill smiled back steadily. 'I think I'll have this dress,' she said. 'I think he'll like it.' Connal was lucky to get away from Sweet Orchard on Thursday, because that was the day relatives and friends who had to stay overnight were arriving. He went up to London in the morning on business, was staying at a hotel, and would go straight to the register office next day. Elinor at least was delighted, because it would have been unlucky if he had seen Jill on Friday morning before they met to be married. And in the same house it would be almost unavoidable. Danny said, 'I don't think it counts for a register office, my darling,' but Elinor insisted it was tradition, and it was best not to take chances. Besides, Connal said they could use his apartment and for the first time in a long time they needed all the rooms in Sweet Orchard.

Jill envied him. She had envied his calm all week. He had actually worked up in his room, while downstairs it got madder as Friday drew nearer. Jill wasn't sleeping well. There was so much on her mind. Tonight she would ask her mother for a sleeping pill—it would be dreadful to look haggard tomorrow for her wedding. Even while Connal was saying goodbye to her the phone was ringing. 'Till tomorrow,' he said. There was something to do with a script that he had to see a producer about today. Connal had told her, and Danny had told her, and she said brightly, 'Twelve o'clock. Don't leave me standing.' He said, 'That isn't likely.' As she turned from the front door Danny offered her the telephone, covering the mouthpiece. 'Harriet I If she's on her way let's hope she's staying at Josh's.' 'Harriet!' said Jill breathlessly. 'How lovely of you to phone. I do hope you're coming to the wedding.' Harriet Aslett said nothing would have given her greater pleasure if she had had a little more warning, but as it was she couldn't. Jill said she was sorry about it. Harriet said so was she. Last Sunday week, talking to Joshua and Elinor, Harriet had got the impression that Jill had met Connal for the first time that weekend. That couldn't be right, could it? 'Yes,' said Jill. 'And you're marrying him tomorrow?' 'Yes.'

'This doesn't sound like you,' said Harriet. Jill said nothing to that, and after a moment Harriet said, 'You think I'm an interfering old spinster, don't you, who has no idea what she's talking about?' 'Oh no!' Harriet Aslett always knew what she was talking about, although she seldom bothered to sweeten her opinions. 'Old spinster I may be,' declaimed Harriet, 'but I've seen a good many girls mistaking infatuation for love. I trust you're old enough to know the difference.' 'I think so.' Jill made herself smile so that her voice betrayed no tension, and as a shower of letters fell through the letterbox she said, 'I'll have to go now; it was nice of you to ring.' She didn't want to talk to Harriet any longer. She hurried to pick up the mail, and her mother came downstairs and walked into the kitchen, making notes in a notebook as though she was working out a tricky equation. Jill called, 'The post's come!' and Elinor's voice drifted back fretfully, 'Then open it, dear. I'm trying to work out where everybody's going to sleep.' Today the caterers would be arranging the ground floor for the reception. Today there would be ho peace anywhere in this house. Sleep, thought Jill, that's what I need. A long quiet dreamless sleep, and then perhaps my nerves would stop jangling. Physically and mentally the week had been one of mounting strain and tension. That was understandable, but understanding didn't make her feel less like a wet rag.

She dropped the letters on the kitchen table and the phone rang again. Danny said, 'Ill get it.' As she opened the first envelope she heard him telling someone that Connal would be in London midday and the name of the hotel where he would be staying tonight. Jill would have preferred a day of normal work and a night away from Sweet Orchard herself. Even at Sweet Orchard Connal had the gift of detachment, although he had handled a fair amount of organisation himself: the licence, the honeymoon, notifying his own guests. Two more of Jill's guests had written to say they were coming, and one couldn't. What did she want for wedding presents? they all wanted to know. And what a surprise it had been hearing that she was getting married at the end of the week. Her mother said, 'You did remember to fix your hair appointment, didn't you?' The ceremony was booked for twelve. Some time at the beginning of the week, they had decided Jill should have her hair styled at nine o'clock, but she had forgotten to book an appointment and now she was glad. She could fix her hair herself, as she wore it in a simple style, and she had had a headache threatening since last night. She said 'No,' and tried to explain that she wanted no appointments for tomorrow morning. She must go quietly tomorrow. She looked up at Danny over the scattered letters and envelopes, pulled a face and said, 'We should have eloped, that's what we should have done.' Elinor froze. 'Jill! Show a little gratitude.' Elinor Manning was busier than she had been in years, but she was revelling in it; and so might I, thought Jill, if I could only calm down.

She said shakily, 'They'll be arriving all day, won't they, and everyone will want to know why the almighty rush. If Connal had stayed perhaps he could have told them.' 'Perhaps he could,' said Elinor tartly. 'It would certainly have been more considerate if you had given everybody more notice.' 'But he had to see a man about a script,' said Jill. 'And I have to see a man about—what do I have to see a man about this morning?' Elinor opened her mouth to say that the wedding dress that had needed taking up a couple of inches should be delivered, that the caterers were coming, of course, and the overnight guests could start arriving any time. But Danny spoke first. 'You could do with a break. Clear off for the day, catch a bus somewhere.' When Elinor began to protest he said, 'Look at her. You're not the one who's going to look a hundred years old at the wedding. Jill is.' The chance of getting out of Sweet Orchard for a few hours was very tempting. Except that she was not sure that wandering around by herself would help. She said, 'I don't think I could relax, unless someone hit me over the head with a mallet.' Danny grinned. 'A change is as good as a rest. Go down to the shop and give Josh a hand.' Jill hadn't been to the shop all week, she was supposed to be returning after the honeymoon, but there must be plenty she could do to help tide over. The bookshop always had a relaxing atmosphere, far removed from shrill voices and people rushing about. Right now it would be like sanctuary. She said, 'Connal cleared off, didn't he? Why shouldn't I?' Elinor thought this was ridiculous, but Danny said firmly, 'Dr. Danny's prescription. Beat it.' And Jill jumped up and almost ran out of the house.

Joshua was pleased and surprised to see her. "There's a packing case arrived from the sale at Cambrook House, but can they spare you?' 'Danny threw me out. I think my jitters are beginning to get on his nerves. Connal's gone to London on business, and won't be back till tomorrow.' Joshua said dryly, 'Were you getting on Connal's nerves too?' Her voice matched his, 'Connal has steady nerves. He's been the only calm one in our house this week.' 'I can believe that,' said Joshua, with a brusqueness that made her ask, 'Don't you like Connal?' 'I respect him. Any man as tough as Connal Craig must be respected.' 'You mean in his writing?' 'I suspect I also mean in his life.' She could have said, 'I'm marrying him tomorrow, but you tell me things I didn't know. You don't like him. You're a gentle man and you suspect him of being without gentleness. I didn't know that, but you could be right.' All Connal's friends who were coming to the wedding tomorrow would know more about him than she did. All she knew was that the chemistry of attraction was right. He fascinated her. He was a dangerously exciting man, and she was flattered and dazzled and had been ever since the night she first met him.

What were the signs of infatuation? How could you tell it from love? 'I trust you know the difference,' Harriet Aslett had said. Jill said, 'Harriet phoned this morning. She can't make the wedding. Is the packing case in the storeroom?' Joshua didn't seem displeased about Harriet, and Jill went through to an inner room where walls were lined from floor to ceiling with well-stocked shelves, and started to catalogue the books as she took them from the packing case. She worked slowly, thinking... Harriet Aslett had had wide experience of unhappiness. She had seen girls imagining themselves in love, starry-eyed for a few weeks, or even a few months, before disillusion set in. Some making disastrous marriages because they hadn't waited to be sure. Jill was not a teenager, but this was the first time deep feelings had been stirred in her, and for two weeks a spell would hold. Bewitchment could surely last that long. The memory of Connal was intoxicating; recalling his voice, his smile, the elation of being with him as though the world could set alight. But what did she really know about him? Less than Joshua, who had only read his books. She loved him, she was almost sure she loved him, but why had he gone away today? Why hadn't he stayed and then she could have told him how she felt, and he could have smiled at her and reassured her, and talked about himself. He hadn't talked about himself. Jill had, but he had hardly talked about himself at all, except for that brief summary that first night. The boy from the Gorbals had come a long way. Oh, it had sounded easy enough—'I wrote an account of an explosion in a coalmine and that was it, I went on writing.' But he must have sweated blood. He

must have been born with a sense of purpose inflexible enough to move mountains. Talent wouldn't have been enough. Today he had gone to London to discuss a TV play and that was a pointer to his priorities. That showed that his work came first. Maybe that was what Danny meant when he'd said she wouldn't always get her own way. She didn't expect to, but just how singleminded must a man be to span the gap from the Gorbals to where Connal Craig was today? You would have to respect resolution like that, as Josh said, and admire it. But how could you know if you loved a man when you didn't even know him? She looked down at the book in her hands and her hands were shaking, and she clenched her fingers and tried to stop them shaking. This week had been exhausting. She was worn out. She had let herself get into such a state of nerves that she could have burst into tears at a word. She went into the shop where one customer was just leaving, and another was going through a set of first world war pin-ups, and Joshua was sitting at the desk making up an account. 'Finished already?' said Joshua. 'I'm slow this morning. Can I make a cup of coffee?' Joshua stood up. 'I'll get the coffee. You see to these letters.' He climbed the stairs to his flat, and Jill typed the answer to the letter on top of the pile, and helped the customer who wanted a picture postcard of Bessie Love. The shop was empty when Joshua returned and handed her a cup of coffee. She wrinkled her nose. 'Whatever's in this?'

'Drink it,' he ordered. 'What is it? Uncle Josh, you'll have me tight!' 'You look as though you need it,' said Joshua. 'I hear your mother is making a three-ring circus of tomorrow.' 'Of course.' She swallowed a little of the spiked coffee. She felt rotten, head aching, sick with nerves. She drank the rest of the coffee and said fervently, 'Oh, I will be so glad when tomorrow's over.' 'It soon will be,' said Joshua. And then she and Connal would get away together, quietly, and have the rest of their lives to learn about each other. She loved Connal. And he must love her or he wouldn't have asked her to marry him, and all this was nerves and sheer bone-tiredness. Tonight she would take a couple of sleeping pills and make sure of a good night's rest. Today she would keep her mind on the business of the shop, as Danny had said—a change was as good as a rest. She smiled, with a creditable stab at gaiety, 'I shall be away for a fortnight, so I'll get as much of my work done in advance as possible, and if I mess things up you shouldn't have given me the brandy.' She got through the day well enough, but the evening was a strain because Sweet Orchard was humming with activity. Connal phoned about ten o'clock. He had tried three times, he said, and that was likely, as the phone had hardly stopped ringing. It was a bad line too, without the added distraction of chatter and laughter all around her. His voice came faint, and someone was calling her. 'I love you,' she said, and she thought he said, 'I love you.'

'Look, Jill!' she heard her mother trilling. She said, 'Yes, I'm coming,' and she told Connal, 'Another present. People keep bringing them. Isn't that kind? What have you been doing all day?' 'Talking business,' he said. 'Tell Danny.' Talking about a script, and a script might mean a part for Danny. Danny would be pleased. She said, 'I'll tell him.' He asked, 'What are you doing?' 'I'm going to have an early night. I'm going to bed with a good book. Wouldn't it be embarrassing if your friends tomorrow were talking about your writing and I hadn't read a thing? And I work in a bookshop.' The wedding gifts were on display in the hall, tastefully arranged like a brand new bring-and-buy sale. Elinor was holding a big cellophane-wrapped parcel of what looked like another towel set, and beside her the donor smiled and waited for Jill. Jill said goodnight to Connal and went to Mrs. Mitchell and kissed her and thanked her, and Mrs. Mitchell, next door neighbour but one, said, 'You're very welcome, Jilly,' and folded her in a quick motherly hug as though she would have liked to ask, 'But why are you rushing into marriage like this?' Jill had read that question in the eyes of most of her friends. Most of them were apprehensive for her, but only the privileged ones like Joshua and Harriet had spoken out. She resisted an urge to mutter, 'I don't know why,' and seeing Danny said, 'Connal said tell you he's been talking business today.'

'Glad to hear it,' said Danny. 'And I heard you say you were having an early night.' She had three of Connal's books, a hardback and two paperbacks, and she sat in bed, knees hunched, looking at them unopened. What did she think they were going to tell her at this stage? The story of his life? Perhaps they would have done if she'd had time to read them, but it was too late now. It was too late for anything now. She must get to sleep. She must get some rest. She swallowed two of Elinor's sleeping pills, and picked up a paperback. It was a reprint of an earlier book. Going by the list of publications it must have been one of the first he wrote, set in a coalmining village. Jill opened at random and read a few lines. She had done that before, skimming, but she accepted now that she was not reading fiction. She was reading life. Connal Craig had lived in that valley, worked in that pit. He had, she was convinced, been there when disaster struck. How old would he have been? Seventeen? Eighteen? At seventeen she had begun working for Uncle Josh, and Uncle Josh 'would burn down the shop if you asked him to.' Work had always been pleasant and easy for Jill. Life had always been an ivory tower. The only real misery she had known was when her father died, but she had never been alone or afraid or anything but sheltered and secure. Connal's father had been killed on the docks as they worked together, and after that Connal Craig had been alone. What did she have in common with the man she was to marry tomorrow? What were they going to build on that would last a lifetime? As the onset of the sleeping pills began to relax her she faced at last what had to be done. She loved Connal, she wanted to marry him, but he must give her a little more time. That wasn't unreasonable.

Everyone had been saying they should take more time to get to know each other. Tomorrow she would admit that everyone was right, and Connal would understand. He would agree. Tomorrow she would tell him. Her blood was running sluggishly and her vision was blurring. She stretched a heavy hand to switch off the bedside lamp and darkness fell, and she lay inert sinking deeper into a drugged sleep, pressed down it seemed into almost choking unconsciousness.

CHAPTER FOUR JILL woke, eyes aching beneath leaden lids, her mind blurred so that her first thought was—I've overslept, I'm late for work. Then memory pierced her brain like a laser beam, and she sat up gasping for breath. She had to talk to Connal. Connal...? 'Heaven help me,' she whispered, 'I can't even remember his face.' For the moment she couldn't. She buried her own face in her hands. He was a stranger she know nothing about, and she must talk to him and tell him she couldn't marry him because they were strangers. The clock on the bedside table said a few minutes to ten. Two hours! That was all the time she had left. She was so cold her teeth were chattering, and when she tried to pull back the coverlet to get out of bed her fingers were numb and her legs were heavy. A paralysing panic gripped her. She had never faced a real crisis before, she had never been scared before. Waking and realising that in two hours she had promised to commit herself for the rest of her life was a nightmare. The dream was over. She stared at the little gilt clock and she couldn't believe she had done this. How had she let this happen? She had free will, she was a rational human being. How had things reached this stage? But somehow she must stop them now. She must get out of this room and stop them. She swayed as. she stood. Two sleeping pills had been debilitating to someone unused to sleeping pills. If only she could creep back into bed for a little longer she might get some strength to get through what threatened to be the ordeal of her life. But there was no time, and what was she going to say? How was she going to explain why she had waited until now, with the guests all

here and the presents accepted and Connal... She had to talk to Connal... She sat down again on the side of the bed, pushing her hair back from her eyes because her temples throbbed and her eyes hurt, and when the door opened the soft click of the latch sounded like a pistol shot. Her mother came in, all smiles. 'Hello, darling, have a lovely sleep? We peeped in and you looked so peaceful that we've left you till the very last minute.' She was arch with gaiety. 'You seemed so tired last night that Danny said you must rest as long as you could this morning. I'd have had you up ages ago.' She laughed. 'You know me, but Danny's a bit of a sobersides, isn't he? And he's probably right, we don't want you yawning all through the ceremony.' Please be quiet, thought Jill. Please stop babbling and let me think what I'm going to say. I have to keep calm, and I have to make you understand that I can't get married today. Her mother said, 'The bath's running. Angela's throwing in all the essences she can find. You'd better get in there and stop her.' 'Who?' Jill's voice was dull, and Elinor said, 'Angela—Angela Caldwell, your bridesmaid. Or witness, or whatever they call them at register offices.' She sighed, 'I still think you should have got married in church.' Angela Caldwell, whom Jill had known all her life. She said, 'Mother, please listen. I can't go through with it.' Elinor, who had been picking up lingerie preparatory to handing it to Jill to take to the bathroom with her, said sympathetically, 'I know, darling.'

'You know?' 'I felt just the same. All brides used to when I was a girl, although I thought that nowadays the modern idea was to keep your cool. There's a blue motif on this slip, and I've put you a lace hanky for something old and something borrowed.' Jill looked at her in despair, and she quoted blithely, 'You know— something old, something new, something borrowed, something blue.' Jill bit her lip until it hurt and tried again, speaking slowly. 'Mother, please! You were right, it's too soon. We haven't had time to get to know each other at all.' 'Ah!' said Elinor sagely. 'I told you, didn't I, it would have been better to have waited? But you wouldn't listen, would you, and it's too late now to have second thoughts.' 'But it isn't.' Elinor smiled consolingly, 'Anyhow, darling, if it comes to that does anyone ever really know anyone else? You and Connal are in love, and you must take the rest on trust. One has to when one marries. I was very lucky and I know that you're going to be too.' She looked at Jill with misty eyes. 'Very lucky and very happy,' she said. You're believing what you want to believe, thought Jill. That this is wedding day nerves, but it isn't, it isn't. Elinor promised, 'Back in a minute,' giving Jill a little reassuring pat on the shoulder. If she was fetching Danny that would be the answer, because Danny would listen.

Jill sat rigid watching the clock, as though her intensity could somehow halt time. But the clock ticked on and Elinor was back very soon, alone, carrying a glass of water, and a couple of pills. 'Take these,' she said. 'I took two sleeping pills last night. I still feel muzzy from them.' 'Nonsense, they just gave you a good night's sleep. Look how well you slept. And now you need something to help you pull yourself together.' Tranquillisers. She needed tranquillity. She had to get her thoughts into logical order so that she could explain and make them believe her. Her mother was smiling. It was hopeless confronting her mother with anything this inconvenient. She wouldn't accept it. She would simply smile and look beautiful and hope it would go away. Jill said huskily, 'I must talk to Connal.' 'The pills,' said her mother, and Jill put them in her mouth and gulped them down. 'I don't see how you can talk to Connal,' said Elinor Manning reasonably, 'until he gets to the register office. He must be well on the road by now,' 'Danny?' 'Danny is at the garage. There's something wrong with Joshua's car. Only a little thing, they're fixing it.' 'He has to come back here?' 'Well, of course he does.' Elinor's patience was being tried. 'You know that, darling. Joshua has lent us his car. Danny is driving some

of the guests to the register office in it, and then Danny is fetching you.' Yes, she knew that. That meant there would be a time when they had all gone and she had Danny alone. He wouldn't be pleased, but he would keep his head. He would go and get Connal. The least she could do was to explain to Connal face to face, not on a telephone, admit she had been stupid and feckless and ask him to forgive her and give her a little time. They could tell the guests she had been taken ill. She felt ill. There was a tap on the door and Angela and Paulene looked in, both smiling. 'Who nearly overslept and missed her wedding?' teased Angela. 'So don't just sit there, come on.' Elinor, collecting tranquillisers from the first aid cupboard in the bathroom, had told Angela, 'Jill needs a little jollying along—the silly girl's having stage fright, so I'm getting her some pills. Come and help her get ready, will you, dear?' They did their best, chattering about the guests who were downstairs now. Friends of Connal's had arrived, people with well-known names, some of them. Paulene had heard one man with a transatlantic drawl say, 'Waal, marriage is about the only experience he hasn't tried.' She told that as a joke, and Angela laughed, and they expected Jill to smile at it. They adored the wedding dress. When Jill put it on their admiration was real and they meant what they were saying, she did look lovely. Not exactly the Jilly Manning they knew, paler, quieter, but you would expect a girl to be a little withdrawn on her wedding morning, and this was a special sort of wedding. Two weeks ago she hadn't even met the man she was marrying.

She was hardly talking at all, just nodding sometimes and smiling a little, hut her eyes were dark, and behind her back they exchanged confused and worried grimaces. The clock spun round. At twenty-five to twelve the bride was ready. Angela would have liked a little more colour on her cheekbones, but Jill shook her head. 'Are you coming down?' asked Angela. 'I'll wait for Danny. Please go and see what's happening.' Angela went hurrying off and Jill thought—the tranquillisers have helped. They've got me this far. All I have to do now is stay calm until I can ask Danny to fetch Connal. There was no one else she could ask. Uncle Josh was probably downstairs, so were so many friends, but they wouldn't fetch Connal. They'd just ask questions and argue and get into a state. This was between Jill and Connal and no one else, except that she was sorry she had brought them all here for nothing. She thought—there's always the reception. They can have a free feed, and take their presents with them when they leave. She heard herself giggle and stopped it with a hand over her mouth because it was hysteria. Paulene asked, 'What are you laughing at?' ready to share a laugh at anything, and Jill said, 'I don't know.' 'You look beautiful.' 'Thank you.'

'Hey,' said Paulene, trying to coax another smile, 'can 1 have Roger?' Jill smiled for her as Angela came back. 'That's better,' said Angela. 'Keep smiling. Only another twenty minutes. Danny's just taking your mother and another couple, and the rest of them are getting off. Paulene, we'll walk round, and Jilly, Danny will be right back for you. O.K.?' Jill stayed in her room another ten minutes, and then went to the top of the stairs. There were two waitresses in the hall from the caterers, dressed in dark dresses and white frilled aprons. They didn't see her, and she hardly saw them. She stood in the shadows, waiting for Danny to come through the front door. The guests had all left for the register office. The house felt empty and still. She heard the car stop and her lips were quivering. If the women hadn't been there she would have run downstairs sobbing into her brother's arms, but they were, so she had to walk. They turned to look at her then. She heard their long- drawn 'Aaaah!' and Danny came into the hall and said, 'Ready, Jilly?' 'Is—Connal there?' 'Everybody's there. You look a knock-out.' 'I have to talk to you.' She went into the study, and Danny followed her, and the moment he shut the door, before he could speak, she said, 'Fetch Connal.' 'What?' 'Please, Danny. Fetch him here.'

'Why?' 'I can't go through with it. Not today. I don't know anything about him. Please,' she begged, 'please.' 'Pull yourself together.' Danny gripped her shoulders hard and she began to weep, 'It's less than two weeks since we met. He writes, that's all I know, and he was born in the Gorbals. Nothing else. I don't even know how old he is.' 'He's twenty-nine,' said Danny harshly. 'What else do you want to know?' 'Please help me,' she implored. 'I know I shouldn't have let it go this far, but it isn't too late yet, if I could only talk to him. If you'd only fetch him. I can't marry a man I don't know, and I know so little about him I must have been mad to say I'd get married today.' Tears were streaming down her face, but there was no pity in her brother's expression. He said grimly, 'So you've decided you don't know Craig well enough to marry him? I've just left him at the register office and I'm supposed to go back and say the wedding's off?' 'Just that I want to talk to him,' she sobbed. 'You want to talk to him to tell him the wedding's off?' She nodded. 'Then you can bloody well tell him,' gritted Danny. 'I'm taking you to him and you can tell him.' 'In front of them all? All the guests?' That's right.' 'No, Danny. No! That would be worse for him too, can't you see?'

'I can see,' said Danny, 'that you don't really give a damn who gets hurt or who has to do the dirty work so long as you don't.' 'Please...' The hysteria she had held down was making her voice shrill. She was panicking, out of her depths, in a moment she would be screaming. Danny hit her across the face and the unexpectedness of the first blow she had ever received stopped the scream like a gag. She backed and stared, her eyes widening, and he groaned, 'Oh, Jilly, Jilly, why are you doing this?' 'I told you why.' His face was grey, and that was her fault too, and his voice was suddenly that of a much older man. 'Listen,' he said, 'now listen. You told me you loved him, you said you wanted to marry him. It's been a bad week for you, I know that, but you're acting like a child. This isn't a woman talking, this is a screaming juvenile. Jilly, you've got to grow up. We're going to the register office, and when we get there it's up to you whether you marry Craig or whether you jilt him.' She whimpered, 'I can't marry him.' 'All right,' said Danny. 'All right. But I doubt whether your Paul Aliens and Roger Gardners are going to seem much after Connal Craig.' 'If he'd only wait a little. Just give me a little more time.' 'You say you don't know him,' said Danny. 'Well, I do. And as I told you before, you won't string this one along. You call it off today and you call it off for ever.' 'What am I going to do?' She wasn't sure if she was asking Danny or herself, but he smiled at her ruefully and shook his head.

'You're going to get married, my child, about ten minutes late. You've had your two pennorth of drama, now mop your face and come on.' She dabbed her cheeks with the lace hanky and went with him. It was only a few minutes to the register office, and as they drove Danny told her about some of the friends of Connal's she would be meeting at the reception. Danny knew several of them, he slipped in a funny story about an American actor, and she wondered if that was the man Paulene had heard say, 'Marriage is about the only experience he hasn't tried.' Was that why Connal was trying marriage now? Was she a subject for observation? That was an idiotic notion, but she was about to marry a man of wide experience and she hadn't the slightest idea what they were talking about. If I were less of a coward, she thought, I would go up to him and say, 'Please don't let's get married now. Tell me about yourself first. Tell me what kind of man you are.' Danny wouldn't do her dirty work and she couldn't do it herself, in front of them all. Her mother would never forgive her. Neither would Danny. Connal was his friend and Jill, he believed, was acting like a spoiled child. The forecourt of the register office was full of cars, but Danny drew up as near as he could to the foot of the short flight of steps, turned off the engine and said, 'All right, Jilly?' She didn't answer, and he got out of the car, went round to open her door and take her arm. The foyer was crowded, double doors were open and beyond there was a large room full of seats. A few guests were seated, but most of

them were in here. Angela darted forward from just inside the door, looking relieved. 'We were beginning to think you'd had a puncture.' 'Just a slight hold-up.' Danny grinned at Jill, giving her arm a reassuring squeeze. 'All set now. Everybody's here.' The witnesses and the bride, and the tall lean-faced stranger who came towards them through the crush of guests in their finery. Jill's eyes met Connal's and she knew that she lacked the courage to say anything. She was too cowardly to speak out here, too cowardly to take the leap into the unknown that this marriage must be. Danny had loosed her arm so that she could go to meet Connal, but instead she gasped something incoherent that was meant to say sorry, whirled around and ran. No one tried to stop her. It was so sudden and so unexpected. She shoved her way through the few people between her and the door and was outside. Quite a little crowd was gathered here. Connal Craig's name was making this wedding news, and they all gasped as Jill rushed out. She stumbled down the steps, almost sprawling but managing to save herself. She was running blind, her face contorted with what looked like terror, and was very close to it. Terror at what she had done when the only prospect was to keep running. Several photographers had been waiting for the end of the ceremony, but one had his camera and was quick-witted enough to realise what was happening. He snapped her, but she hardly saw him, she was running for Josh's car that Danny had parked so near, even leaving the keys in the ignition in his anxiety to get Jill inside.

She flung herself into the driving seat, fumbled with keys and gears, distraught enough to have stalled the engine but somehow starting it smoothly. Then she put down her foot and drove fast. How she got out without bumping something she never knew, but she did, right out of the car park before anyone else was in pursuit. She was heading for home, before she realised that she couldn't go there. She couldn't go on driving either. She was not a very good driver; a boy-friend had taught her, but she had no car and she didn't get much practice. In her present state she was probably more accident- prone than she had ever been. Uncle Josh's key ring had keys to the shop on it. She would go there, and then—she had no idea what was going to happen next. She could think no further ahead than getting out of the car, and getting behind a door that she could lock. She drove the car into the garage, off the street The shop was shut, she was glad he hadn't got help to keep it open. She stepped inside quickly, and ran up the spiral staircase to the apartment. Then she stood still because this was the end of the road. She was at bay, she could go no further, and any minute they were going to come here for her. She hadn't gone to Sweet Orchard. This was the next most likely place. Who would come? Danny? Friends? Not Connal after what she had just done, and the memory of that made her blood run cold. She didn't lock the door behind her. They'd only knock and she'd have to open it. So she sat in a chair facing the door, and waited and wished she was dead, because right now she couldn't bear to live with herself.

She heard the ring of the opening shop door and the footsteps—only one set of footsteps, she was almost sure it was Uncle Josh—and then he called her name from the bottom of the spiral staircase. She tried to answer, but her mouth was drier than dust. When he opened the door she was still trying, and she whispered, 'I'm here,' as he looked at her. 'Are you all right?' he asked. 'Yes.' No, but I'm breathing, so what shall I do and where shall I go? He said gently, 'I must tell them you're safe, they'll be worried.' 'Yes,' she said. He went downstairs to telephone and she said to nobody, 'I don't want them worried,' and after what had happened that could have started her laughing if she hadn't been weeping. Stop crying, she told herself savagely. You may have acted like a child, but stop snivelling like one. She got up and went to the door, and downstairs in the shop Joshua Aslett was standing at the desk, talking on the phone. She heard him say something about the doctor, then he grunted a couple of times and hung up. Surely nobody was going to try to explain the way she had acted by claiming she had been taken ill? It would have had to be no less than mental derangement. She was racked with remorse as he looked up at her. It hadn't been fair, involving him. He hated upsets, and this was going to be an upsetting scene. She said, 'I shouldn't have come here.' 'Yes, you should. Better not go home for a while.' 'What about the doctor?'

'Your mother's upset, but Dr. Hervey's with her.' The doctor and his wife had been at the register office, and Jill asked fearfully, 'It is just that she's upset?' 'It was a shock for her, of course.' Jill, coming down the stairs slowly and stiffly, looked in shock herself, and he quickened his step towards her. 'Go back, Jilly. You could be seen through the shop windows, the press were at the register office.' Vaguely now she remembered that photographer jumping in front of her. She hurried back into the -shelter of Joshua Aslett's living room, terrified by the threat of reporters firing questions at her. But she had left Connal to face just that, without any warning, any chance of escape. She could imagine what had happened after she had run away: her mother's reaction, Danny's, the guests shocked rigid, then coming alive with vicarious excitement. But it would be Connal the press would want, a quote from him, and what could he say? She said in a strangled voice, 'I didn't realise the press were there. How horrible for him.' Joshua said quietly, 'Indeed it must have been. Fortunately you were right, Mr. Craig has steady nerves. The reporters got nothing out of him. He walked to his car and drove away.' 'Where did he go?' How could Joshua know that? He shook his head, and she asked another question he couldn't answer, 'What am I going to do?' 'Will you be all right for a few minutes, if I go to Sweet Orchard and fetch your mother?' 'I'll be all right, but what can Mother do?'

He felt that Jill needed someone to put arms around her and comfort her and treat her like the unhappy and frightened girl that she was. He was prepared to stand guard and keep the press and other disturbances away for the next few hours, but Jill heeded a woman's care and that woman should surely be her mother. He explained, 'I'll lock the door. Don't answer it. And I'll take the phone off the hook. I won't be long.' He looked closely at her. 'You will be all right now?' 'Yes,' she said. 'Yes, thank you.' She was still in shock, but with each passing minute her actions seemed more incredible and more appalling. She despised herself, not for stopping the wedding, she had to do that, but for the way she had stopped it. Suppose Connal had done that to her? Men and women were jilted at the last minute, it could be heartbreaking and must be humiliating, but to come and look at you and then turn away would be to leave you with no tatter of pride left. She was thankful that he had had the control to show a semblance of command over the situation. She was the one who had lost dignity, the one who ran, stumbling and sobbing. Elinor did not return with Joshua. He found Sweet Orchard in uproar, at least that was how it seemed. Connal was not there, but Danny had encouraged the guests to dispose of the food and drink. It had been paid for, Danny insisted, it would be crazy to waste it, and although there was neither bride nor bridegroom few of the guests could recall a more stimulating wedding reception. They were clustered in avid little groups when Joshua arrived. He had spoken to Danny on the phone and he found himself surrounded by curious friends and neighbours, all wanting to know what was happening.

He told them coldly that it seemed obvious what had happened, that Jill was very upset, and where was her mother? He went to Danny, who was dispensing hospitality with a lavish hand, and who said, 'Poor old Josh, are you the messenger boy?' 'Where's Elinor?' Joshua asked shortly. 'Taken to her bed,' said Danny. 'It seemed the best thing as she didn't feel like playing hostess after all.' 'Jill needs her.' 'Does she?' said Danny. 'Can I offer you a sausage roll? We decided not to cut the cake. You don't want a two-tier wedding cake going cheap, do you?' Joshua said severely but quietly—there was enough gossip already without adding a quarrel between himself and Danny—'Jill is very unhappy. This is a very unfortunate affair.' 'You think so?' Danny smiled. 'It's more than that, Joshua. You know as well as I do that if it wasn't calculated callousness it might as well have been. She made Connal a laughing-stock in front of his friends. With the press there it could well be in front of the whole damn country.' He went on smiling, his voice soft, his eyes glittering with anger. 'Tell her from me I'll never forgive her for it.' Joshua did not tell Jill. He took Angela and Paulene back with him, neither of them quite sure what to do. Angela was still speechless at the enormity of Jill's action, but Paulene was beginning to enjoy the nearest thing to mind-blowing drama she had personally come across. Joshua explained, 'Your mother's resting, Jilly. Paulene and Angela came.'

Jill was glad they had. She couldn't have been alone. They both looked at her for a moment, frantically searching for something to say. Then Angela asked, 'Shall I put a kettle on?' and Paulene said, 'You certainly stirred it up, didn't you?' Joshua said, 'I'll go down into the shop. I won't let the reporters iii, don't worry.' 'The reporters!' Paulene pulled a shocked and gleeful face as Joshua closed the door and left them. 'They were there.' 'I know. I mean I know now.' Paulene was longing to talk about it. 'He's a cool customer, isn't he? He never turned a hair. He walked outside and everybody was asking what was going on, and the re- porters were asking, but he just said "No comment," as calm as though they were talking about his next book or something like that. Then he got into his car and he went. He didn't follow you, did he?' Jill shook her head. He couldn't have followed her, she had been away, and of course he hadn't come looking for her. Angela said quickly, 'Oh, I shouldn't think so,' 'I hoped not,' said Paulene, She sounded awed. Td have thought you'd have had more sense than pick a man like him for a trick like that.' 'A trick?' Jill echoed. 'Well, what was it supposed to be?' Paulene persisted. 'Why did you do it? For kicks?' 'No!' said Jill. 'I panicked. I lost my head.'

Angela seemed to understand. She said, 'What a mess! Maybe if you explained, and apologised.' 'Of course I'll apologise. I didn't mean it to be that way.' 'Of course you didn't,' said Angela with a rush of sympathy. But Paulene remembered that Jill Manning had got away with murder with the men in her life. If she changed her mind about getting married at the very last minute she might expect to get away with that too. Only she wouldn't. Not with Connal Craig. Paulene said, 'I don't envy you, trying to explain.' For the first time in her life she had no envy at all for Jill. She wouldn't have changed places with her for a fortune. Joshua turned a few would-be callers away. A couple of reporters and a photographer came along, and he told them that Miss Manning could see no one, and that he had no idea what her plans were. Nor what Mr. Craig's were either. Miss Manning was under sedation and could not be disturbed. One or two friends looked in, but this had all been very embarrassing and most of them felt that tomorrow would be soon enough to intrude on Jill. They contented themselves with a show of sympathetic disapproval. There really was no excuse for Jill, but they were sorry for her mother, and it had been very hard lines indeed on Connal Craig. In the early evening Paulene went home and brought a change of her own clothing for Jill—they were practically the same size. Tomorrow Jill would have to go to Sweet Orchard, and if Connal was there do her best to explain. She couldn't turn up in her wedding dress, and she was- far from sure that she could explain.

It had been a kind of madness. Two weeks of dreaming and then a terrible moment of waking and not being able to cope in any way. Paulene was right, Connal would never understand that, but she must say how sorry she was, eat humble pie, assure him that he couldn't despise her more than she did herself. Angela stayed the night, sharing Joshua's bedroom with Jill while poor Josh slept on the settee, and next morning the girls cooked a breakfast that no one felt like eating. Jill literally could not swallow, not even tea, and Joshua got up from the table and said, 'We may as well get it over, I'm going to ring and see if there's any news of Mr. Craig.' Jill sat, pale-faced, waiting, and Angela chatted shrilly about the weather for a few seconds, then fell silent too. When Joshua returned he was carrying newspapers. He said, 'Craig came back last night some time. He's working now.' That was good news, but Joshua's expression suggested that resilience could be carried too far. 'Did you speak to him?' asked Jill. 'I spoke to Danny. Your mother is still in bed, it is quite early, of course. And Danny seemed to think it might be better if you didn't return to Sweet Orchard for a day or two.' 'I see,' said Jill. 'He asked if we'd seen the morning papers.' Joshua had his regular two. He handed one across the table, and began to leaf through the weightier journal himself.

Jill's photograph was on the front page. Or a girl who looked like Jill, running terrified, eyes wide, mouth gaping. 'Oh no!' Jill whispered. The story began 'Author Connal Craig's bride-to-be changed her mind in a hurry yesterday.' If there had been no photograph it would still have been reported, because Craig was a best-seller and an award-winner, and any romance that ended like this was news. But that picture would make everyone who saw it wonder what could make a girl run with such fear in her eyes. They would wonder what manner of man Connal Craig was. 'But that's awful!' Angela gasped. 'Oh, that isn't right. They shouldn't have taken a picture like that.' 'What is it?' Joshua came round the table to look, and frowned, and the frown grew deeper as he began to read the copy. Jill said in a small stunned voice, 'I never meant to do this to him. I've got to tell him I didn't mean this.' Joshua cursed quietly. Jill could never remember hearing him curse before. She said, 'I'll go right away.' 'I'll take you,' said Joshua. 'No need, love.' 'I'll take you,' he repeated. 'I'll get the car out.' 'I'll wash up,' said Angela quickly, as though scared that someone might ask her along too.

Danny answered the door and looked through Jill. That cut deep, but she couldn't blame him. Danny had brought Connal to Sweet Orchard, so in a way he must feel responsible for what had happened. All of it Jill's fault. She went upstairs as Joshua said to Danny, 'Sulking is going to do no one any good, my boy,' and Danny laughed wearily, 'Sulking? Don't be such a pompous old fool, Josh. Who do you think you're talking to, a ten-year-old?' She passed two friends of her mother's on the stairs, who must have been visiting early, and they shook their heads in unison chorusing, 'Oh, Jill, you are a naughty girl—oh, your poor mother!' Jill didn't wait for a lecture. She would try to make her peace with her mother later. Elinor's and Danny's grievances came a long way behind Connal's. She knocked on Connal's door and he called 'Come in.' His voice sounded as usual and there was nothing to be learned from his face. He was sitting at the desk, with paper in the typewriter and notes beside him. The newspaper with the photograph was there on the desk. She saw it as she stepped inside the room, and she couldn't take her eyes off it. She gulped and said, 'I'm sorry.' 'Are you?' Of course he wasn't going to help, why should he? 'I've no excuses. I panicked, I just couldn't go through with it.' He stretched a hand to pick up the newspaper, and said flatly, 'Obviously you couldn't. Heaven knows I have my faults, but this looks as though you're getting away from Jack the Ripper.'

'That's dreadful. That has nothing to do with you.' 'No?' He raised an eyebrow. 'I thought I was the man you were running from.' 'What can I say?' she whispered, and his even voice went dry. 'There's an old newspaper slogan that one picture's worth a hundred words. I can't think how you can better this.' 'I wanted to tell you I couldn't go through with it.' 'Then why didn't you?' 'I couldn't even do that.' It was as though she was talking about someone else, she could hardly credit her own weakness. She said in self-loathing, 'I couldn't do anything but run. I never knew I was such a coward.' 'And now you do know.' He looked at the paper in the typewriter as though the work he was doing was more interesting than this laboured act of contrition. 'Anything else?' he asked. 'If not -' 'This.' Jill had the ring clutched in her hand. She had stood still as soon as she spoke, as soon as she was in the room. Now she walked across to the desk and held out the ring and he took it and dropped it on top of the photograph. Not intentionally, she thought, although it seemed apt. Then he turned away from her, reading again the words he had been typing. She had botched her apology, but she hadn't expected anything else. There were no words that would atone for yesterday, Paulene would say she had got out of it easily, Connal hadn't even raised his voice. She wished he had. She would have taken any tirade and agreed

with it. Now all she could do was get out. She said 'Goodbye,' and he said 'Goodbye,' absently, without looking up. Danny was in the corridor outside. He asked, 'What are you doing now?' 'I don't know.' 'Then I'll give you some advice. I don't suppose you'll take it because you don't take advice, but the best thing you can do is get away for a few weeks. Anywhere as long as it's away from here.' 'I'll pack some things.' She asked shakily, 'How's Mother?' 'How should you think?' said Danny grimly. 'Can I see her?' 'You'd do her more harm than good right now.' She threw some clothes into a case and went downstairs blinking tears away, crushed by the unhappiness she had caused. Joshua was in the hall and he came towards her, looking approvingly at the case she carried. 'An excellent idea,' he said. 'It's Danny's idea that I should get away for a while.' 'A holiday,' said Joshua, 'will give tempers time to cool down.' Connal had no need to cool down, he was colder than charity, and he would never forgive her, she knew that. But Danny would, he must. As well as her brother Danny had always been her best friend, the punishment of having him turn against her was hard and heavy.

And her mother, whom she loved dearly, would have been done more harm than good by seeing her. She had let her mother down cruelly in front of all those guests. She had lost Sweet Orchard for her too, for Connal could never stay in this town now. Danny hadn't come downstairs. Jill went out of the house with Joshua, feeling an overwhelming sense of loss, as though she no longer belonged here or anywhere. Her eyes filled with tears again, and she blinked again. She said, 'I don't have an idea where I'm going, but I seem to have got into the habit of running away.'

CHAPTER FIVE As Jill stepped through the front door of Sweet Orchard a man came towards her. 'Good morning, Miss Manning, are you going away?' She didn't know him; he must be a reporter. He went on pleasantly, 'Have you just seen Mr. Craig?' Beside Jill, Joshua Aslett bristled with indignation. 'Miss Manning has nothing to say to you, sir—kindly let her pass.' The reporter was not preventing Jill from passing; he had been assigned to follow up the story, but he had little hope that either of the principals would want to talk to him. He put two and two together: Miss Manning was leaving the house with a case, she had been crying, so it was obviously 'No happy ending for writer Connal Craig and the girl who left him at the register office yesterday .. Jill flung up an arm in front of her face—if someone took another photograph she knew how she would look—and once again she almost fell into Uncle Josh's car. Fuming, Joshua Aslett got into the driver's seat, muttering about complaints to the Press Council, and stalled the car twice before he drew away. All this aggravation was putting a palpable strain on him and Jill said, 'I shouldn't have brought you along.' 'You were in no state to come alone,' Joshua reminded her. She had caused enough trouble. She had to get away and let things simmer down. She could come back as soon as Connal went too. She had seen the last of him, and she would regret that very much, but there could never even be friendship between them again. She asked, 'Please would you take me to a railway station? I've got my cheque book and some money.'

'I thought,' said Joshua, 'you might go to Harriet's.' Harriet Aslett's cottage was forty miles away, but in the circumstances Jill could be an encumbrance to anybody. She said doubtfully, 'Do you think she'd have me?' Joshua exploded, 'Why not? You're not exactly a felon on the run.' 'I feel as if I were.' 'In the long term,' said Joshua, 'you probably did the right thing.' 'Do you really think so?' She was desperate for reassurance, and he told her, 'I had grave doubts about this marriage. I think you should have had second thoughts. Although of course it would have been better to have had them earlier.' 'I do know that. I'm so sorry about that.' 'Anyhow,' he tried to comfort her, 'no sense worrying about it now. We'll phone Harriet and tell her we're on our ^ay.' They waited until they were well out of town, and there was no chance of Jill being recognised, then they stopped at a phone kiosk and Joshua rang his cousin. Jill could see him talking as she sat in the car. He looked grave, but the talking didn't last long. Then he dialled another number and spoke for a moment or two, and finally came back to the car smiling. 'That's all right. She's looking forward to seeing you.' 'Has she seen the photograph?'

'It seems not. I told her there hadn't been a wedding. You'd changed your mind.' 'What did she say?' 'She said,' said Joshua, 'she was relieved to hear it.' Harriet Aslett came out of her cottage as the car turned in through the five-barred gate. She was big-boned, apple- cheeked, with greystreaked hair drawn back into a bun. She looked a countrywoman born and bred, but it was only three years ago, since her retirement, that she had moved down here. Until then she had lived and worked in cities. The cottage was isolated, standing in a half acre of kitchen garden and hen run, surrounded by meadows full of cows, the nearest village half a mile away. Harriet beamed through the car window, opening the passenger door as Joshua switched off the engine. But as Jill stepped out and faced her, her smile went. She said, 'You were the one who called off the wedding?' Jill nodded. 'From the looks of you,' said Harriet, 'I thought it might have been him.' Joshua came round the car, to declare dourly, 'Mr. Craig is bearing up remarkably well.' 'Is he?' said Harriet. Jill was not. Jill looked sick. Harriet said, 'Come on in. Have you got any luggage?' The cottage was always welcoming: rugs on deep red flagstoned floors, an inglenook fireplace with a gleaming copper kettle and a couple of Staffordshire china dogs, lamps hanging from heavily beamed ceilings. 'I'll have some ham and eggs done in no time,' said Harriet.

It was late for breakfast and early for lunch, and Joshua said promptly, 'Not for me.' Harriet went into the kitchen, leaving the door between the rooms open. 'I wasn't thinking about you, Joshua. Jill's the one who looks like a plucked chicken.' She reappeared in the doorway carrying a frying pan, to eye Jill again with the gimlet gaze that betrayed sharp intelligence behind her rather bovine appearance, 'How long is it since you had a good meal?' Jill hardly knew. All week she had picked at her food, missing some meals altogether in the press of activity. Today she had eaten nothing, yesterday only a biscuit and a slice of bread and butter. She still wasn't hungry, she seemed to have lost her appetite entirely, but she must try to get something down. Harriet hadn't waited for a reply. In the kitchen fat was spluttering in the frying pan. Jill asked, 'Have you seen the newspapers?' 'Not yet,' Harriet called back. 'Why?' A newspaper, still folded, lay on the dark oak chest, and Joshua picked it up and said, 'Harriet doesn't patronise the sensational press, I don't think her newspaper has featured it.' 'Featured what?' Harriet demanded. Jill said quietly, 'I did an unforgivable thing. I waited till I got to the register office, then I just ran. Someone took a picture of me.' Harriet stayed at the gas stove, watching the ham under the grill. After a few moments she said slowly, as though anxious to get her facts right, 'You—just ran? You left your young man standing there? And he's bearing up remarkably well? What do you mean by remarkably well? Cheerful? Calm?'

She paused then, and Jill answered the last question. 'Calm. I saw him this morning to try to apologise and he was very calm. He was working when I got there.' Harriet snorted; she sounded like Joshua. 'Then it's as well you didn't marry him, isn't it? He sounds more like officer material than husband material.' She cracked eggs into the frying pan and came to the door to inquire, 'And how is Elinor taking all this?' Jill sighed, 'Not too well. Everyone was there.' Elinor Manning's social standing was precious to her. She was used to being admired, when Charles had died she had accepted sympathy, but she had never been laughed at before, and there was something grotesquely comic in a daughter who ran out on her own expensive wedding. If she was someone else's daughter. 'Everybody but me,' said Harriet regretfully. 'I missed Elinor having hysterics.' 'Elinor did not -' Joshua began. He didn't finish. As shrewd a judge of human nature as Harriet could visualise Elinor's reactions as clearly as any eye-witness. Harriet chuckled, 'But of course she did,' and Jill turned away. Jill could see it too. The only other time her mother had been forced to face reality was when her father died. Jill would never forget that. Elinor Manning had fallen apart, until she had transferred her dependence to Joshua, and to Jill. Jill, even as a schoolgirl, had become her mother's support. But yesterday Jill had let her down, and it was as well there was a doctor around because Elinor Manning would be needing stronger sleeping pills to help her through this.

Harriet said, 'Don't worry, Jill. Everyone will be running around Elinor, falling over themselves to make a fuss of her. She'll be enjoying herself.' 'Perhaps,' said Jill. There could be a grain of truth there, but Jill was not enjoying herself. The self-knowledge that had come to her yesterday had cut at the roots of her being. She tried to smile and Joshua said sharply, 'Harriet, try to show a little consideration.' Harriet went back into the kitchen. 'Nearly ready,' she said. 'I shall have to be going,' said Joshua. 'Nobody knows where I am.' 'Don't they?' called Harriet. 'Does anybody know where Jill is?' 'No.' He told Jill, 'I spoke to your friend Angela on the phone, and asked her to shut the shop door behind her. I said you were taking a little holiday.' 'Doesn't anybody know?' Harriet appeared with a plate of ham and eggs and set it in front of Jill. Jill said, 'It seemed a good idea to get away for a few days until Connal's gone. He's Danny's friend, and Danny's feeling pretty badly about it.' 'Worse than the prospective groom?' muttered Harriet. Jill said levelly, 'Less calm at any rate. Uncle Josh suggested I should come down here. Is it all right?' Harriet smiled. 'For once Joshua showed sense. Of course it's all right. Do eat up. Joshua, are you sure you don't want anything to

eat? You'll have a cup of tea, won't you? Or a glass of parsnip wine?' Joshua shuddered slightly. 'A cup of tea, I think.' He abhorred Harriet's homemade brews. 'I'm driving,' he added, because he was a kind man and she had been sending him bottles of the stuff ever since she settled in her cottage and started making it. When he had drunk his tea he said goodbye to them both, promising to go round to Sweet Orchard and find out how Elinor was, and to phone back here with any news at all. 'Goodbye, Joshua,' said Harriet, looking at him with an approval he rarely received from that quarter. 'Goodbye, Uncle Josh,' said Jill. She kissed him. 'I'm sorry I'm being such a nuisance.' 'You have your little holiday,' said Joshua, 'and everything will sort itself out in no time.' 'Would you tell Paulene I'll send her clothes back?' 'I'd better tell her you'll bring them back, unless you want to tell her where you are.' 'No.' She wanted no one to know, except Danny and her mother, and Uncle Josh would tell them, of course, when they asked. After he had gone she finished her meal. It was good, although she had no taste for it. She ate because the least she could do was show appreciation. She said, 'Thank you. For everything.' Harriet smiled, 'Don't thank me, I'm doing nothing, I shall enjoy having your company. And there's no need to apologise to Joshua either. You're the nearest thing to a family he'll ever have. You've all been very good for Joshua. Even Elinor, in her ridiculous fashion.'

That was an admission, coming from Harriet. Jill said wryly, 'I'm my mother's daughter. But she never made as big a fool of herself as I did yesterday.' Harriet's expression doubted that. 'Anyhow,' she said with truth, 'what's done's done. Let's take your case up to your room.' Jill had stayed here before, in the little bedroom with the dormer window under the eaves. There were sprigs of wild roses on the wallpaper and a scent of lavender on the sheets, and she took out the few clothes she had brought with her and hung them in the cupboard. Unpacking didn't take five minutes. What was she going to do with herself now she was here? She could help about the house and in the garden, but Harriet Aslett was a formidably practical woman and always had her chores organised. The wallpaper was a little faded here and there, and the paintwork upstairs could stand repainting. Jill had had some practice in decorating at home, the price of professional services had been out of their reach for ages. Sweet Orchard had big rooms with high moulded ceilings. You could stand on the floor and paint most of these ceilings, and you would never need anything taller than a chair. Decorating the cottage would be child's play, if Harriet fancied the idea. Harriet was immensely taken with it. She had considered getting the bedrooms done, they were still as they were when she'd bought the cottage, pretty but dingy, and if Jill was sure they'd buy the material this afternoon. There was no wallpaper shop in Harriet Aslett's village, they had to take the car into a town five miles away, and there they selected

papers, and filled the boot of Harriet's old banger with tins of gloss and emulsion paint. The shop by which they had found a parking space was a newsagent's, and Jill glanced up from putting away the paint tins to see unsold morning newspapers hanging in the rack outside. She could see the face in her photograph and she bit her lip. Harriet went over, took out the newspaper, scrutinised it, then slipped it back into the rack. She said nothing until they were in the stream of traffic, then she said, 'Nobody's going to recognise you from that. A very poor likeness.' Jill laughed weakly, 'I've had nicer pictures taken. He said I looked as if I was running from Jack the Ripper.' Harriet didn't ask, 'Who said?' She probably thought Jill meant Danny. She said, 'Not a bad description. It's as well you got away.' Jill started to strip the walls of the third bedroom as soon as she got back. She worked hard, coming down dutifully to eat when Harriet called 'Tea!' from the bottom of the stairs. Then going back and keeping at it until Harriet looked in and said, 'Supper's ready.' Jill had almost stripped the walls. That had been tough, they had layer upon layer of wallpaper, but it was a small room, and the fourth wall was mainly sloping ceiling and dormer window. She straightened her aching back. 'Could I just finish this strip?' she asked. 'I've got it soaked,' and Harriet said, 'Do you know what time it is? It's nearly midnight.' 'Never!' She would sleep. She was healthily tired tonight. She knew that Harriet had let her carry on with that in view, and she had probably

kept Harriet up long after her usual bedtime. She took the biscuits and the hot milk drink to bed with her and slept soundly.

The next few days passed in a contented vacuum, Harriet Aslett showed enough insight to ask no questions, and this could have been no more than an ordinary holiday. Harriet led a busy life, working in the garden, keeping in touch with old friends and colleagues. She attended the local church and was a member of the W.I. But this week she announced that she had a guest and curtailed her activities. She had no near neighbours, and none of her fellow villagers knew who Jill was. They must have seen the photograph and read the story, but Jill would hardly have been recognised from the photograph if she had stood under a poster-sized copy. Not while she smiled, or looked her normal self. Jill didn't go into the village. But they went into the nearest town on Monday for tea and an afternoon's shopping, and into another town on Wednesday, which was market day. Harriet could have left Jill alone in the cottage of course, but she didn't, and again she showed how much understanding lay beneath her unsentimental manner. With Harriet outside in the garden, or clattering pans in the kitchen, Jill got on with her painting and papering and took no time off for brooding. Harriet's was a reassuring presence, no nonsense about Harriet, and she was so delighted at the facelift Jill was giving the cottage that it would have been very ungrateful to slacken off. But Jill often wished she was more like her mother, able to blot unpleasant things from her mind, because even while she was working she couldn't help thinking and wondering. But at least at nights she was sleeping naturally.

Harriet's newspaper hadn't covered the wedding-that- wasn't, but several of the other papers ran continuing snippets. On Wednesday, over toast and a plate of cream cakes in the cafe overlooking the crowded market square, Jill opened a newspaper she had just bought and read that Connal had said that work was going well with the TV script. 'Connal Craig may be a loser in love,' burbled the woman columnist, 'but in his work he is very much a winner.' 'So I believe,' said Harriet with distaste, reading it too. Connal had not yet left Sweet Orchard. Joshua had phoned them several times, and he was the only one who had called Jill. He had told Danny and Elinor where Jill was. Elinor sent her love, he said, but he did admit there was no message from Danny. And Connal was still there, working, getting in nobody's way, keeping himself to himself. It was generally accepted around town that Jill was staying for a couple of weeks in Scotland. 'Why Scotland?' she'd asked, and Joshua had said he really didn't know why Scotland, except that Danny had told that to a reporter on Saturday afternoon. The press seemed to have lost interest now, although they would almost certainly turn up again as soon as Jill did. She didn't need to ask Joshua if friends and neighbours were waiting to see her. Of course they were, with bated breath, they were dying to know what was going to happen next. Her homecoming would be grim, with stares and whispers her lot. But she had to go home eventually and carry on with living and earning a living, and although the scandal would never be quite forgotten it would fade and there would soon be other things to gossip about.

She could face going home, but she was not at all sure she could face going back to Sweet Orchard while Connal Craig was still living there. On Thursday she rang home. She expected to get Danny; she knew he would still be resentful, but perhaps he would tell her when Connal was going. That was all she would ask, so that she could make plans for coming home. As she heard the bell burring she steeled herself for whatever came. Danny was not going to forgive her in a hurry, and she was prepared for wounding words, but it was her mother who answered and Jill said quickly, 'Mother, how are you?' 'Jill?' Elinor Manning sounded as though she had ten daughters. 'Is it Jill?' 'Yes. Are you all right?' 'How could you, Jill?' 'I don't really know.' 'So unkind, so cruel! Such a cruel thing to do to all of us.' 'Mother, I'm sorry. I tried to tell you, I couldn't go through with it.' 'You said you were nervous,' Elinor said reproachfully. 'Any girl could be nervous on her wedding day, I had no idea you meant to do anything so cruel.' 'I hadn't much idea myself,' said Jill so quietly that her mother asked her, 'What did you say?' and she said abruptly,

'Do you want me to come home?' 'Of course I do,' Elinor shrilled. 'Of course you must come home. I suppose it was best to go away for a day or two, but why Joshua had to cart you down to Harriet's I cannot imagine.' It would be impossible to say that Harriet Aslett had been strength and solace. Jill loved her mother, and it was not Elinor's fault that Harriet had the stronger character. Jill asked, 'Has Connal gone?' 'No.' 'Has he said anything about leaving?' 'No, dear, but you need hardly see him. This has been a dreadful week. I want you home.' 'Does Danny want me home?' She heard Elinor's soft little gasp before she said, 'Goodbye for now, dear,' and put down the phone. Danny must have come into the hall, Jill decided, her mother would probably have phoned her before if Danny had not said leave things as they were for a while. But Connal was still there. Was Danny idiot enough to think that letting a flat to Connal would ever work out now? Surely Danny knew that no matter how completely Connal 'kept himself to himself' the situation for Jill would be one of unmitigated embarrassment. So she couldn't go home to Sweet Orchard. Harriet was in the kitchen at the sink, peeling onions under a running tap. Jill had told her where she was phoning and now she

went into the kitchen and said, 'I got my mother. She wants me to go back, but Connal's still there. I think Danny's letting him stay.' Harriet sniffed over her onions and asked, 'Why?' 'To get enough money to keep the house going maybe. And Connal is a friend of his, and Danny was very much on his side after what I did.' She smiled tightly. 'A week today Connal went up to London to see a TV producer about a script, he said "Tell Danny I've been talking business." I suppose it meant a part in something for Danny. I wouldn't blame Danny, I let him down too.' 'Well,' said Harriet, 'what can you do about it?' 'Nothing. Except live somewhere else.' Harriet offered promptly, 'You could stay here, and get a job in one of the towns.' 'Bless you!' Jill hugged her, then picked up a knife and helped with the onion peeling. 'But I must go back to the shop. And I want to. I'll find a bedsitter, they're not that hard to come by round us.' Of course that wasn't how she wanted it to be. She loved Sweet Orchard, and the house needed her as much as her mother did. It would be very unsatisfactory, Jill living in another house. Tonight she would phone Uncle Josh first and ask him what he thought about it, then Danny. Connal must go away, he must see that. Suppose she wrote to Connal? She had to do that some time, to explain how she had let herself get into such a mindless panic. Little things, not eating, not sleeping, were no excuse, but they were part of the reason. Now she was strong and fit again she knew that she shouldn't have turned to Danny or to anyone else. Even on Friday

morning she could have got Connal away from the crowds with a phone call, and spared him public humiliation. She must try to make a lucid apology. She might manage on paper; she certainly hadn't on Saturday morning, face to face. But if she told him now how bitterly she regretted that horrible scene, and asked him please would he go away and let her come home, he might. He seemed almost immune to distractions while he was working, but for a long time whenever he looked at Jill he would remember, and no one could call that-an ideal situation for a writer. This was the most difficult letter she had ever had to write. She made half a dozen abortive tries, and when she read over the seventh she nearly added it to the other crumpled pages in the wastepaper basket. She could only leave it for now and hope that when she came back later she might make a better job of it. Harriet had cooked liver and bacon and onions for lunch, and when Jill put down her knife and fork with more than half the meal still on her plate Harriet said, 'Eat it up. I'm not having Joshua and your mother saying I starved you.' Jill smiled, 'You've fed me royally.' 'And you,' said Harriet taking her cue, 'have made a little palace of the bedrooms. Why don't you stay another week or two and do downstairs?' Jill said quietly, 'I've been trying to write to Connal.' Harriet waited. 'It's hard to think what to say. I can explain why I couldn't go through with the wedding, but how can I explain why I turned up and never said a word, and just rushed out looking the way I did on that photograph?'

Harriet said nothing. 'I want to go back to Sweet Orchard,' said Jill. 'And Connal couldn't want to go on living under the same roof, could he?' 'I doubt if he'd enjoy it much,' said Harriet. Jill leaned forward. 'So he's bound to go, isn't he?' Harriet answered with a question. 'Not much to keep him there, is there?' After lunch Jill went upstairs to finish off the skirting board on the landing. Later she would rewrite that letter to Connal. She was revising it in her head, down on her knees making a painstaking job of a corner, when Harriet opened the door that led from the big living room and called up the stairs, 'Someone to see you, Jill!' 'Danny?' Had Danny come to fetch her? She jumped up, nearly knocking over the tin of paint, and hurried down. Harriet stood squarely. Behind her stood Connal. Jill felt the blood leave her cheeks. Instinctively she drew back a pace, but he said, 'There's no need to run again. I assure you the danger's over.' She had paint on her hands, on the knees of her jeans. She looked a sight, and what did it matter how she looked? She whispered, 'This is—a surprise.' He believed her. He said, 'May I talk to you?' Harriet had waited impassively. When Jill managed to get out, 'Of course,' Harriet said, 'I'll be in the kitchen if you want me.' She closed the kitchen door and Connal asked,

'She saw the photograph?' Jill nodded. His lips twitched. 'Then I don't blame her for wondering if I'm homicidal.' Jill said, 'I am so sorry about that photograph.' 'Forget it.' He sounded as though he had. 'That's last week's news. I've come to take you home.' She croaked, 'But I can't, while you're -' He said, 'It is your home. Your mother wants you there, of course, and she badly wants to keep the house. If I go you could always let it to someone else, but it suits me admirably, and I would prefer to stay on.' She could have been an estate agent with whom he was discussing an accommodation problem. She stammered, 'After Friday, you wouldn't mind -?' 'You mean you might prove too much of a distraction?' He looked at her and her face began to burn. 'After Friday,' he spoke gently, 'I could be marooned with you for ten years on a desert island without wanting to lay a hand on you.' Jill's skin flamed from throat to hairline. She said, 'You must hate me.' 'No.' He still looked straight at her, and he almost smiled. 'Why shouldn't you change your mind? Probably your female instinct that I'd make a hell of a husband.' He did smile then. 'Certainly I don't hate you. I think you're both attractive and intelligent, I wouldn't mind working with you. The only thing I would hate is getting emotionally involved with you again, and that's never likely to happen.'

She knew it wouldn't happen again. Danny had told her, 'Call it off today and you call it off for ever.' . 'Will you come back?' Connal asked. 'I want to.' 'And do you mind if I stay on?' 'I suppose not.' That sounded so ungracious that she changed it to 'Of course not.' 'Good.' 'I started to write you a letter.' It would be easier to show him than try to say the words; it was an abject apology. She brought it from the writing table and offered it to him, and he tore it across a couple of times hardly glancing at it. He said, 'It would waste less energy if we dispensed with the post-mortems.' Jill took the pieces back and went again to the writing table and dropped them into the paper basket. Then she said, 'Could we?' 'Why not?' She didn't turn. She looked down at all those letters she had tried to write and said, 'I wish we could.' 'We can.' He seemed certain. 'We both nearly made a bad mistake, but it won't be repeated. I give you my word I'll never ask you to marry me again.' She said, 'You mean you wouldn't take me as a gift,' and turned as he laughed.

'It could have its advantages. One man of your own generation with whom you're as safe as you are with Joshua Aslett.' She was smiling too, but hers was a surface smile. 'Can you wait while I wash and pack?' 'I'll wait outside.' He went out through the front door, and she went through the door into the kitchen. Harriet was doing nothing, except standing there. Jill looked dazed. 'He's come to fetch me home.' Harriet's eyebrows rose high. 'To Sweet Orchard,' said Jill. 'Why didn't Danny come for you?' 'I don't know. Connal still wants the flat.' Harriet's mouth was going down at the corners like Joshua's did and Jill asked, 'Do you think it would be possible to wipe out last Friday, like a bad debt?' 'Is that what he said?' 'That we both nearly made a mistake and now we should forget it.' Harriet's expression registered several emotions, none of them happy. Finally she said, 'Well, I've hardly spoken to him, but I shouldn't have thought he had bad debts. A man who kept his accounts squared, I should have said. And if I'm any judge at all of faces I'd have sworn I'd been looking at one that had never turned the other cheek in its life.'

CHAPTER SIX HARRIET waved the car goodbye looking far from reassured. Jill sat beside Connal, stiff with a self-consciousness she hadn't known for years. It was like being a teenager again— worse, because even then Jill Manning had been fairly sure that if she said the wrong thing it would be laughed at kindly. Now she was almost afraid to speak, because the simplest comment could come out loaded. Connal didn't talk, but she was certain that wasn't from embarrassment. As the silence became a mounting strain to her she wondered if she had the willpower to stay quiet and see if he would break it. Anything would have done. But he said nothing. He drove with the relaxation of an expert driver on an easy road, and she said at last, 'How did you know where I was?' 'I heard your mother phoning you.' So it was Connal who had come into the hall this morning when Elinor put down the phone so quickly. 'I thought it was Danny,' said Jill. 'Danny's doing a commercial.' 'Then he isn't at home now?' 'No.' 'Does he know I'm coming back?' 'Surely he was expecting you back some time?' Connal had obviously not discussed it with Danny, only with her mother. But Connal had come to fetch her, so that should placate Danny. She said, 'I haven't spoken to Danny since last Saturday.'

'No? That's a nice cottage Miss Aslett has.' The subject was changed and Jill chattered uneasily for a few minutes about the cottage, making painful small talk. Afterwards she was silent and so was Connal, and she turned and watched the scenery slipping by, because there was nothing else to say. They reached home town as offices and shops were closing and streets were emptying, and Connal stopped at a pedestrian crossing to let a woman over. She recognised the car and Connal, then Jill sitting beside him, and stood transfixed half way across the road, staring through the car windscreen. Connal muttered, 'What the blazes is the matter with her?' Jill gulped, 'She knows me. It's Mrs. Mitchell, one of our neighbours.' 'Well, smile at her,' he said. 'She thinks I'm kidnapping you.' Jill smiled jerkily and managed a stiff little wave, and Connal laughed. Mrs. Mitchell smiled back and then got herself quickly on to the pavement. It had made things just a little easier, and Jill said, 'Thank you for bringing me home.' 'I'd do the same for any friend of a friend.' His voice was as light as though he had never set eyes on her until just now, when someone had asked him to give her a lift. Sweet Orchard looked tidy, the lawns had been cut, and as the car stopped Elinor came out of the front door. She must have been at the window, waiting.

She clicked her tongue disapprovingly at Jill, who had done a quick change from interior decorator and had not felt steady enough for applying much make-up. 'What have you been doing to your hair?' demanded Elinor. 'I washed it in rainwater,' said Jill. 'It's supposed to be marvellous.' 'It hasn't done much for you,' said her mother. 'You found the cottage without any trouble, Connal?' 'No trouble at all,' he said. He got Jill's case out of the boot and they went into the house. Tab looked fatter than ever, the house looked the same. This time last week it had been full of wedding guests and wedding presents, the furniture had been moved and the tables set out for the reception. Now all that could have been a mirage, something that never really happened. Her mother was showing no signs of having 'a dreadful week'. She was saying, 'The meal will be ready in five minutes. You will eat with us, won't you?' Connal hesitated for a moment and then said, 'Thank you,' and Jill wished he had refused or her mother had not asked him, because for all this facade of normality Jill was walking on quicksands. Nothing was what it seemed. She would very much have preferred being alone this evening. 'Five minutes,' said Elinor, smiling. 'If Jill will give me a hand in the kitchen perhaps you'd take her case up.' There was hardly anything in the case. Jill said, 'Don't bother,' but Connal had picked it up and her mother was telling her, 'I've done veal cutlets, and I found a new recipe.'

Jill had eaten liver and bacon midday, but her mother was determined to outdo Harriet on the culinary front and she would have to eat again. In the kitchen Elinor asked, 'And how is Harriet?' 'Very well,' said Jill. 'Of course,' said Elinor in her fragile role. 'Harriet is always robust. I envy her—it must be wonderful to have no worries.' 'Wouldn't it be?' said Jill. Her mother looked at her severely, acknowledging unpleasantness but putting it in its place. 'Well, you're home now, and we must try to forget the whole silly business.' She could have been talking about a tantrum, a child stamping and pulling faces. It had been a silly business, but it had also been ugly and shaming, the day on which Jill Manning lost faith in herself. 'Connal has been very understanding,' said Elinor. 'I'm sure he wants the whole thing forgotten.' Friends had been kind to Elinor. Her own generation had rallied round, seeing in Jill's action base ingratitude after all Elinor's trouble and expense. Once she got over the shock of the whole production falling to pieces Elinor had found herself the heroine of the hour. It had been dreadful, it had been very very worrying, but it was all right now, and Elinor was bearing up beautifully. The phone rang almost as soon as they began to eat, and Elinor listened to it ringing. 'I wonder who that is.' Jill began to get up. 'Shall I see?' 'I'll answer it.' Elinor went, leaving the door open, and they heard her say, 'Oh yes, Jill's home. Oh yes, die's very well,' with a little trill of laughter.

Jill stared bleakly at the table. She whispered, 'Why can't they mind their own business?' 'It won't last long,' said Connal. 'What about the press?' 'What's in it for them? The marriage won't take place, they knew that a week ago. But if any reporters should turn up refer them to me.' She hadn't looked at him often. She'd found it easier to sound calm if she didn't. Her eyes slid away when he looked at her, but she raised her head now, and he grinned, 'Just one thing—if there's a photographer don't run.' Her face flamed. 'That horrible photograph!' 'Give it time and it will be a joke.' He sounded as though he thought it would. 'Something to show your grandchildren.' 'I don't think so somehow,' she said, 'but I won't run again.' In the hall Elinor was saying goodbye. 'The world's getting smaller,' said Connal. 'There aren't many hiding places left.' And Jill couldn't look away. He held her gaze and a shiver touched her as though this was a warning, a threat. The phone gave a tiny ping as Elinor replaced the receiver. She came blithely back, and the meal went on. Elinor sensed no undercurrent. She talked about the commercial Danny was making, and asked was Jill going into the shop tomorrow. Jill said probably and that she must phone Joshua tonight.

Elinor was cross with Joshua. She didn't put it into words, but she gave a pettish nuance to his name and when he arrived as coffee was being poured her manner was reserved. Joshua didn't help himself by explaining that Harriet had phoned him. 'So thoughtful of Harriet,' murmured Elinor. 'She told me you were home,' said Joshua, looking first at Jill and then at Connal. Harriet had transmitted her anxiety, and Jill hoped that the scene of Connal sharing their evening meal was cosy enough to reassure Joshua. But it wasn't cosy for Jill. She had to force herself to talk and she neither felt nor sounded at ease. She asked about the shop, and Joshua said he would be glad to see her back tomorrow, he was a little behind with some of the correspondence. He said, 'Paulene called in today and asked after you.' 'I'll go round this evening,' said Jill quickly. 'In fact I might as well go round now.' The meal was over, Paulene would be home from work, and it would get Jill out of the house for an hour or two. She asked, 'Is that all right?' She was that unsure of herself, although she couldn't have said whose permission she was seeking. That will be nice,' said Elinor vaguely. 'Coffee, Joshua?' Jill went to her room and took the dress Paulene had lent her out of the case, searching in the depths of her wardrobe for a carrier bag. It would have been easier to have started with Angela, or someone a little less waspish than Paulene, but Paulene had to be faced. They all did. All the folk she had known all her life, and not even the most charitable was likely to be on Jill's side over last Friday's affair. Paulene would almost certainly go on and on, and Jill would find herself saying over and over, 'I made a fool of myself, I lost my head, but now it's over, finished ...'

Only it wasn't over. None of them would ever completely forget the day Jill Manning ran out of the register office and got her picture in all the papers. She looked into the dining room where Connal and Joshua and her mother still sat around the table talking. 'I won't be long,' she said. 'What have you got in there?' Her mother had spotted the carrier bag. 'Something for a jumble sale.' 'Really? What jumble sale?' Elinor persisted, and Connal knew it was a black dress with emerald braid edging the flared skirt and the rounded neck, and that Jill had worn it last Saturday when she brought back his ring and tried to explain. No, of course he didn't know, how could he? But her cheeks were flaming again and the lie was cowardice again, and she said, 'It's Paulene's dress, she lent it to me.' 'Lent it to you?' Elinor was intrigued. 'When?' Jill should have said 'Some time ago'. It should have been easy to brush the question aside, but it wasn't, and she said desperately, 'On Friday, because I couldn't come back here on Saturday morning in a gold dress.' Connal's mouth hardened, as if he remembered the wedding dress and Jill looking at him and turning and running away, then detachment came down like a mask and she said, 'I'm sorry.' He said laconically, 'Sorry for what? A gold dress would have been out of place on Saturday morning.' 'So I'll take this back to Paulene,' said Jill. She backed away and went quickly down the hall.

Elinor bit her lip. That had been tactless of Jill, there had been no need at all to refer to the wedding, and it was a pity that the golden dress was going to be wasted. Jill wouldn't be able to wear it around here. Elinor wondered if it might be adapted, it had been so expensive, perhaps into something she could use herself. She said brightly, 'More coffee, anyone?' 'Thank you, no,' said Connal. He got up, and Joshua said, 'Mr. Craig, could you spare me a few minutes?' Elinor glared small daggers, but Joshua Aslett was looking at Craig. 'Of course,' said Craig. 'Shall we go to my room?' Here Elinor would have stayed to listen, and Joshua appreciated the courtesy of a manto-man hearing. Craig said, 'Thank you for a delicious meal.' 'I'm glad you enjoyed it,' said Elinor sweetly. She could not resist adding, 'Joshua, try not to be tedious.' 'Sit down, Mr. Aslett,' said Connal, and Joshua Aslett took a seat in the master bedroom that was now Connal Craig's living and working room. Craig sat too, opposite him, and waited, and Joshua started in placatory tones. 'You may resent this, Mr. Craig. You could be justified in telling me it's none of my concern, but ever since my partner Charles Manning died I've tried to do what I can for his family. The Mannings are very dear to me.' He paused. Even if it was resented he must say what he had come to say, but he did not wish to antagonise Connal Craig. The young man had not been treated well, but while admitting that, Joshua's overriding concern was for Jill. Someone had to talk to Craig on her behalf, and her brother wouldn't so Joshua must.

Connal said quietly, 'I know, I'm sure they know it too,' and, encouraged, Joshua asked, 'Do you bear Jill any malice for what she did?' Craig had grounds for resentment. Jill had acted selfishly, but only because she was at her wits' end. And Craig hadn't seen her afterwards as Joshua had. She had suffered as much as Craig, Joshua was certain. Just now, downstairs, when Joshua had seen the man's face harden it had. been Jill who looked vulnerable. Even Elinor could break down Jill's defence, and the girl who came into the shop this morning wanting Jill's address was getting a thrill out of the whole thing. Jill was due for a rough passage, and if Connal Craig knew that he might feel less injured himself. Craig said wryly, Td rather have been rejected less publicly, but at least she changed her mind before the ceremony and not afterwards. That would have brought complications.' It would. And the state of mind Jill was in it could have happened. She had not been in any way reasonable. Joshua said, 'Yes indeed,' glad there was something to be glad about. Craig was taking it so calmly that he could not have been deeply in love with Jill, and Joshua asked suddenly, 'Why did you ask her to marry you?' This time he probably would be told to mind his own business, but Craig said, 'A drink?' and Joshua, who would have accepted hemlock to keep the interview amiable, took a glass of whisky and soda with profuse thanks. Craig skipped the soda and brought his own glass back to his seat and sat down with it, then said, 'She's a very attractive girl.'

'You must have met many attractive girls.' The cosmopolitan life, the links with the world of entertainment, and he was successful and had charm; there must be a better reason than that. Craig said, 'Of course. But recently I've felt it was time 1 married, and Jill would have made an admirable wife.' Joshua knew Jill's virtues and she would make an admirable wife, but probably not for this man. He ventured. 'Would you have made her an admirable husband?' 'She decided not.' Craig's grin was disarming. 'And she could very well have been right. But I'd have done my best. 1 would at least have seen that she lacked for nothing. I would have taken care of her.' He seemed sincere, and Joshua felt that this was a commendable attitude. He was surprised to find that he and Connal Craig had something in common, a sense of responsibility. Craig went up in Joshua's estimation, and Joshua drank a little of his whisky and asked, 'Why are you staying on here?' 'I like the house.' He had this room arranged very comfortably, Joshua noted; the door that led into what had been the dressing room must now lead into a bedroom. All the furniture in here was familiar and belonged to Sweet Orchard except the filing cabinet, and there were books that Joshua hadn't seen before. His expert's eye noted a row of bindings that might merit closer attention. The window overlooked the gardens and it was quiet, and altogether Joshua could understand it might ideally suit Craig's working requirements. But he asked, 'Not because of Jill?' Craig said quietly, 'I hope I shall always be Jill's friend, but I'm not a masochist. I wouldn't care to risk a repetition of last Friday.'

Joshua could understand that. It was hard to imagine a greater insult to a man's pride and dignity than Jill's action of last Friday. He was relieved that Craig was being civilised about it. He offered in Jill's defence, 'She was very distressed. She still is.' 'You're in her confidence,' said Craig. 'Try to reassure her that it's a closed chapter.' Joshua Aslett asked for nothing more. He stayed a while longer, and looked at the books and was interested to hear that Craig collected 'Victorian crime': books, pamphlets, broadsheets. 'A very small collection so far because I've never had a permanent base before.' Joshua would keep an eye open. Erudite on his subject, he held forth until he realised that he had been up here for the best part of an hour and could well be outstaying his welcome. Not that Craig showed signs of boredom. He was a gratifying audience, questioning keenly, and when Joshua stood up to leave he said he had very much enjoyed their talk. 'So have I,' said Joshua Aslett. 'Thank you, Mr. Craig.' Joshua held out a hand and Craig took, it, and said, 'Thank you.' Elinor was in the drawing room, turning over pages of a magazine at an irritable rate. At least she started to when Joshua walked into the room. He said, as if she didn't know, 'I've been having a talk with Mr. Craig.' 'Oh?' She sounded as if she hadn't known. 'He seems a reasonable man,' said Joshua. 'Yes,' said Elinor.

'He wants to stay on, it seems. If Jill doesn't mind I see no reason why not, do you?' 'No reason at all,' said Elinor sharply, 'and of course Jill won't mind. We've had enough nonsense from Jill, and Connal has behaved very well indeed.' Elinor Manning on her dignity was a chilly lady, but she was not a fool and she relied on Joshua Aslett. It would rankle for a long time that he had taken Jill off to Harriet's. Elinor had sulked all week so that on Joshua's brief calls at Sweet Orchard he had never been asked to stay, nor felt that he wanted to stay. But Elinor needed him, so she decided to be magnanimous and smiled and said, 'Sit down and I'll tell you something.' Joshua sat and Elinor closed her magazine and leaned forward, almost whispering, 'I shall be breaking a confidence, but you are my financial adviser, aren't you?' Unpaid, most of the time unthanked by Elinor, Jill always appreciated what he did, and as Harriet had said, the Mannings were Joshua's family. He lived through them, and without them his would have been a dull life. He waited to hear the rent Craig was paying, but that wasn't Elinor's little secret. She said, 'Connal has insisted on paying for the reception.' Joshua had known that debt was going to put Elinor's account in the red and had expected to dip, testily, into his own modest bank account. Jill had very little money behind her, and Danny was always broke. But in the circumstances for Connal Craig to have offered to pay was superhuman generosity. Of course it also meant that having taken the money Elinor had no option but to let him keep on the apartment, and that must have been

part of his motive. All the same, it was generous, and Joshua had already reached the opinion that there was small chance of a better tenant turning up. Jill met no one she knew on the way to Paulene Rollens. Paulene's house was only a few minutes away and Jill went quickly, keeping her eyes down, skulking you could call it. If anyone had called her name she would have felt a sinking in her stomach as she turned to face them. In a tiny way she was notorious right now in this town. She rang the bell and Paulene's mother opened the door. Her lips thinned, seeing Jill, and she said, 'Why, hello, how long have you been back?' 'I came back this afternoon. Is Paulene in?' 'Ye—es.' Paulene's mother drawled the word while she did some thinking. Then she said briskly, 'You'd better go through,' and stood aside to let Jill pass into the hall. 'In there,' Mrs. Rollens nodded towards the second door down, and went back into the front room where she and her husband were watching television. As Jill opened the door Paulene was fixing her hair in the mirror over the fireplace. She was smiling into the mirror for whoever was coming through the door, but she didn't expect it to be Jill and her smile slipped and she turned, gasping, her fingers still twined in a tendril. Jill said, 'I brought your dress back. Thank you.' Paulene let out the lungful of air she had gulped in. 'You're welcome. Have a good holiday?' That was one way of putting it. 'Yes, thank you,' said Jill. 'You've come back to stay?'

'It is my home.' 'What about Connal? Isn't he still at Sweet Orchard?' 'He's keeping the flat on.' Paulene's eyes were getting wider and wider. 'He's going to live there?' 'Yes.' 'Have you made it up?' Paulene was croaking with surprise, and also with indignation if Jill Manning had got away with this. 'In a way,' said Jill. 'We've decided to let bygones be bygones,' and she thought how stupid that sounded. 'You're not still getting married?' Paulene was convinced now there was no justice in the world. 'No,' said Jill quickly. 'It was all a mistake. We've called it off.' 'You certainly did call it off,' said Paulene. She looked hard at Jill, silent for a few seconds, then she said, 'Tell me something—I've been wondering about this. When Angela went down to see what was happening and there was just you and me in your bedroom, just before we went to the register office, what were you laughing at?' Jill blinked. She had had no cause for laughter that day. She said, 'I don't know what you're talking about.' 'You were laughing,' Paulene insisted. 'I asked you what the joke was and you said you didn't know, but nobody laughs for nothing, do they?' 'I don't remember.'

'Mmm.' Paulene was convinced that Jill had had a secret joke. The Mannings were always the centre of attention, with Danny an actor and everything. Jill could have played that scene for kicks, thought Paulene. Jill wondered—did I smile that morning? I suppose I did, but it isn't true that nobody laughs for nothing. You can smile with your lips when you're really weeping. The doorbell rang and Paulene turned back to the mirror. This will be Roger,' she said. 'You weren't thinking of taking him up again, were you?' 'Of course not.' 'We're going out for a meal,' said Paulene, 'so I can't ask you to stay.' She went to answer the door and Jill followed. If she could she would have waited until Paulene and Roger had gone and then slipped out herself. She kept well back in the hall, but Paulene opened the door wide, and said, 'See who's here.' Roger backed a couple of paces in mock surprise. 'If it isn't the blushing bride 1' Jill said, 'Hello.' 'And how was Scotland?' asked Roger. 'Where? Oh—beautiful.' Paulene went out through the door and Jill had to follow. As Paulene closed the door Roger said, 'Didn't expect to see you back. Shouldn't have thought there was anyone around here to come up to your standards.' ... "Who does she think she is?" they must have said, "standing Connal Craig up .. " '

There was nothing Jill could say. She stood on the pavement while Paulene and Roger got into the car and Roger said, 'See you.' As the car moved away Paulene turned to Roger and began talking animatedly, and Jill began to walk fast in the other direction. She wouldn't call on anyone else this evening. She would walk and hope she didn't meet anyone. Tomorrow would be soon enough. When she got back to Sweet Orchard it was dark. Her mother was sipping a milk drink in the kitchen and ready for bed. She was alone. She said, 'Have a nice time with Paulene?' 'Yes,' said Jill, is Danny back?' 'Not yet. He's going to be late.' Elinor yawned prettily. 'I'm tired, I don't think I'll wait up.' 'I will.' That was nice, thought Elinor, Jill and Danny friends again. She loved her children and she was proud of them. She loved Sweet Orchard and now it was safe. She felt warm and happy and she kissed Jill and shivered, 'Goodness, you're frozen! Get yourself a hot drink, darling. You won't mind if I go up, will you?' 'Run along,' said Jill. 'Get a good night's rest.' She went up to her own room to fetch down a writing pad to send a note to Harriet, and heard the radio as she passed Connal's door. She hesitated there, in two minds to ask if he wanted a drink, then decided to leave it until- Danny came. Danny would be wanting supper, so he could take some in to Connal. Danny wouldn't mind, but Jill was reluctant to face Connal again tonight. She was going to feel ill at ease in his presence for a long time.

She wrote her letter at the kitchen table, thanking Harriet, telling her that everything was fine here; then she sat trying to think of something else to say. Jill's letters were usually cheerful and chatty affairs. The ones she had sent over the years to Harriet Aslett had been birthdays and Christmases, but Harriet was astute enough to read apprehension between these brief lines. So Jill added an account of the commercial that Danny was filming 'for a dental fixative, although Danny's dentures shouldn't need much fixing as he's still got his own teeth. There's cheating for you! I can't wait to hear how they did it.' Then she went on waiting, wondering if Danny was coming home tonight after all. When she heard him come into the hall it was nearly midnight, and she turned up the gas under the kettle, and saw something in Danny's face like an echo of Mrs. Robbens and Paulene and Roger. Not a welcoming look. For a moment that was all she got, the cold and level look, no word, no smile. Then Danny walked across to a chair by the table, slumped into it and said wearily, 'What brought you back?' He hadn't asked 'Who?' but she answered 'Connal,' and explained, 'He came down to Harriet's this afternoon and said would I come back.' 'Did he say why?' 'No. Except that Mother wanted me back, and there was no reason why not.' The kettle whistled; it had been on simmering boil. 'Tea or coffee ?' she asked. Danny shook his head. 'Something to eat?' 'No.' He seemed dead tired, but she couldn't leave this till morning. She said,

'Look, I know what I did. I know how it seemed and I've apologised, and don't think I'm not ashamed, but Connal said—forget it, so if that's his attitude why can't you -' 'Forget it?' Danny jerked up in his chair, almost shouting at her. 'Nobody's forgetting. They'll all be grinning behind his back for the next ten years.' She tried to say 'No ...' but Danny went implacably on, 'Not to his face, of course. Nobody want to make an enemy of him.' She shook her head, she wouldn't believe this, and Danny jabbed a forefinger at her. 'And talking of enemies, I said you probably hadn't an enemy in the world. Remember that? You remember me saying that?' She remembered. 'Well, I think you've got yourself one now,' said Danny. Not Connal? No love, but friendship, he had said. He had not said they would be enemies. 'Don't kid yourself you've come back to your ivory tower,' said Danny. 'Sweet Orchard is never going to be the same again.' In her heart she had known that last Friday had changed her life. She asked, 'What's to stop us asking Connal to leave?' 'A twelve months' legal contract for a start.' A contract had been signed this week? Jill had heard nothing of that. She said, 'I didn't know. Does Uncle Josh know?' Her mother never made a money move without running to Joshua first, but Danny said, 'No.' 'Only you and Connal knew? And why is Connal staying if he feels like this?' 'Pride,' said Danny. 'Nobody makes him run.'

'That wasn't the impression I got,' Danny shrugged, unimpressed by her impressions, and she demanded, 'If you believe he's an enemy why did you let Mother sign a contract giving him the right to live here?' Danny sat in silence and she asked incredulously, 'You're not afraid of him, are you?' The silence held for half a minute, then he said, 'Are you?' 'No! No!' He said heavily, 'Well, maybe you should be. Maybe we both should be,' and she was afraid to ask why or probe deeper. There had been a look in his eyes that stunned her. Danny was afraid of no one, but now his attitude was as much like fear of Connal Craig as concern for him. She asked shakily, 'Did you have a good day? What was the commercial?' and Danny wasn't fooled. He said, 'Bread and butter. I've given up hoping for jam.' 'Aren't things going well?' That was an inane question in the circumstances and Danny began to laugh. She suspected he had been drinking, not a great deal, but he was not cold sober. He said, 'There are times when you can be very funny. I must admit that I couldn't put my hand on my heart right now and swear that things were going well.' Danny had always had his moods of depression, he had a mercurial disposition, but Jill could never remember him with this weight of gloom, and it was no use begging, 'Tell me,' because he had no intention of confiding in her. His face was a tight closed book, and when he got up and said, 'Goodnight,' she could only echo, 'Goodnight.'

She stayed downstairs another five minutes or so, and when she went up the house was quiet. The radio was no longer playing in Connal's living room, and there was no light showing around the door.

Jill got up early in the morning before there was any sign of Danny or her mother. She left the breakfast table laid and reached the shop well before nine o'clock. She had a key and let herself in, picking up the mail from the mat, calling from the bottom of the staircase, 'Uncle Josh, are you up?' Joshua answered, 'Come up, Jilly.' He was having his coffee and reading his paper, and this was like so many working days had started that she reached automatically to get another cup for herself, and felt the reassuring comfort of custom as she drew up a chair and began to open the mail. Jill did most of the secretarial work, and she could believe that Joshua was slightly behind with this week's correspondence. She wasn't sorry. She needed full-time occupation today. They opened at nine, and by then had this morning's mail sorted. One of Jill's dreads had been that there might be a string of callers who wanted to talk about last Friday, but it didn't work that way. Hardly anyone came, except customers. Most of the customers knew what had happened, but few of than were on close enough terms for outright questioning. They just looked at her in a slightly different way, and seemed a little less relaxed than usual. But not one of them mentioned Connal. Out of her friends Angela was the only one to put in an appearance. She came round at lunchtime; she was a schoolteacher, sounding a

little out of breath, and it must have been a rush for her. 'Hello, Jilly, I heard you were back.' 'Yesterday,' said Jill. 'All right?' asked Angela. Tine. And you?' The talk was stilted although they had known each other all their lives and usually chattered ceaselessly. When Jill asked, 'What are you doing tomorrow?' Angela looked embarrassed and muttered that she had fixed something. 'I see,' said Jill. She would have been very thick if she hadn't. 'Am I being sent to Coventry? I seem to be getting the cold shoulder all round.' 'Goodness, no!' Angela tried to smile and only succeeded in looking bothered. Then she asked, 'Do you know what Paulene's saying?' Jill could guess. She said, 'I don't want to know.' She was sitting at the desk just inside the door, and Angela was standing facing her. There was no one else in the shop, no customers, and Joshua was eating his lunch upstairs, but Angela looked around, peering behind the shelves where customers often settled in a chair for a quiet read, before she asked, 'Why did you do it like that? If you changed your mind, fair enough, but how could you leave Connal standing there without any warning, in front of all his friends and everybody?' 'A good question,' said Jill. An unanswerable question. 'Because I lost my head.' 'I've never known you panic before.' Angela sounded accusing. 'You've always been able to cope.' 'This time I couldn't.'

'Everyone felt sorry for him. Everyone likes him.' Jill wasn't surprised at that. Connal Craig had charm and he was a celebrity^ it was a devastating combination. It had gone to Jill's head and blown her mind. 'No wonder he wants to stay,' she said. Angela didn't stay much longer. She had only looked in to say it was nice Jill was back, and when a man walked hi and said, 'Good afternoon, Miss Manning, I don't suppose you remember me,' and Jill said, 'You're a reporter,' Angela got out. It was the man who had been waiting outside Sweet Orchard on Saturday morning. A week today, at just about this time, Jill had been running from her wedding. Now she was back and Connal Craig was keeping on an apartment at Sweet Orchard, and any comment at all would be welcome. Jill said, 'I've nothing to say.' She jumped up and backed towards the staircase. 'See Mr. Craig, he'll tell you.' 'Thank you,' said the reporter, and watched her go up the stairs. She was a pretty girl. That photograph hadn't done her justice, but it had been a thunderingly good human interest shot. As soon as he left the shop Jill came down again, to pick up the phone and dial Sweet Orchard. She got her mother and asked for Connal, and Elinor asked, 'What do you want Connal for?' 'Please,' begged Jill, 'quickly.' 'Hello?' said Connal, a minute or so later. 'A reporter's just been here. I told him there was nothing; and to see you. You did say that, didn't you, that if any came you'd see them?' Her teeth were chattering and he said,

'No change, no wedding, that's all the quote that's needed.' 'Will you tell him?' 'Surely.' He put down the phone and she looked up at Joshua. She said, 'There was a reporter here.' 'So I heard you say.' She was terrified of the press now, although common sense told her there weren't going to be any more photographs. As Connal had said, the story was dead. She said, 'It's because Connal's staying on at Sweet Orchard. I'd be happier if he wasn't.' 'I had a chat with him last night,' said Joshua, allowing, 'and I formed quite a good opinion of him.' 'So has half the town, Angela says.' So Joshua had heard. 'I think they admired the way he conducted himself last Friday. And since. He wouldn't have a word said against you, and that's to his credit.' 'Who says he wouldn't?' 'Your mother. No one else is claiming to have talked to him about you, but it's the general viewpoint that last Friday reflected more credit on Mr. Craig than on you.' Jill smiled bitterly. 'Who's denying that?' 'One other thing I think you should know,' said Joshua gently, 'the bills for the reception—Mr. Craig paid them.'

'What?' She was appalled. 'But he couldn't. We couldn't have let him in any case, and after the way things went it's unthinkable. How did it happen? How did he know how much they were? Who told him?' Joshua Aslett winced under her quick fire of questions, grateful to the customer who came in then and asked for anything on teaching yourself Spanish in a hurry. Joshua took him to the shelf and went into the subject with a flattering attention. When the book was paid for and the customer had left Jill said, 'Mother, of course.' Joshua pleaded Elinor's case. 'Mr. Craig asked her. He knew her financial position from Danny, it seems, and she says he insisted.' 'He'll have to be paid back. It's indecent, letting him pick up the check for that travesty of a wedding reception.' Joshua felt that was overstating things, although literally speaking Jill could be right. He had hoped she might consider it a kindly gesture. Now he wished fervently that he had said nothing. She sighed. 'I suppose that's why Mother signed the contract.' Joshua's eyebrows rose. 'He's a protected tenant?' 'For twelve months.' Elinor had not mentioned that, but it was the obvious arrangement if she was letting Craig stay, and he meant to stay, he had made himself at home. Joshua said, 'He told me he finds the house ideal for his purpose. I must say the room looks most comfortable.' Jill's mind was not on the mod cons of Sweet Orchard. 'She shouldn't have accepted his money. I'd have paid the bills somehow. She shouldn't have done that.'

Joshua Aslett gave his dry little cough. 'Don't be too hard on your mother, Jilly. A rejection of Mr. Craig's offer might have hurt him. She probably felt he had been hurt enough.' The rebuke was justified. Who was Jill to blame anyone? All the same, the money must be repaid. 'And it was an act of kindness,' Joshua insisted. 'Kindness or contempt,' said Jill. Joshua gave up. Jill would certainly have this out with Elinor as soon as she got home, and Elinor would accuse him of betraying a confidence. And he had. He thought wistfully that it would be pleasant to have a little holiday himself, somewhere very quiet, leaving no address. He took himself into the storeroom and took his time finding the book he was looking for. No one phoned Jill at the shop that afternoon and no one else came to see her. It was no imagination on her part. Everyone was wary of her right now, nobody was coming out into the open and proclaiming themselves on her side. It would wear off, but the memory was vivid yet, and Jill had trod a light-hearted path through life. Paulene was not the only girl who envied her, and most of the men who had been attracted to her were thanking their stars she hadn't promised to marry them. If she had left Connal Craig standing what chance would they have had of not being jilted publicly at the last minute? For the first time in her twenty-two years Jill Manning was on her own. She worked hard, typing most of the day, getting the loose business ends tied up. Without distractions she did an immense amount of work so that Joshua, putting his signature to the letters,

said smilingly, 'I could take a holiday, couldn't I? and you could manage?' He had before, she could manage. She asked, 'Are you going on holiday?' He chuckled wryly. 'I confess it crossed my mind. Your mother is going to be very annoyed that I told you what she told me as a secret.' Jill smiled, 'But where could you go to be safe from Mother? Except down to Harriet's?' Joshua shuddered, 'That would be out of the frying pan into the fire! Harriet would have me digging potatoes.' 'She wouldn't,' said Jill. 'She'd have you painting ceilings. She's on a decorating jag right now.' He shuddered again, and she laughed because he wanted her to laugh. 'Poor Uncle Josh, you do have trouble with your womenfolk.' 'Yes,' he said, 'oh yes. But your mother is a superb cook and you are a superb secretary, and one of these days Harriet is going to send me some home-made wine I can drink, so I suppose I get value for money.' 'So do we,' said Jill softly. She could have said... I love you, and right now you are the only one who loves me, and I hope I cause you no more trouble, because you look older than you did a month ago. She said, 'I'll drop these in the post on my way home.' It was almost time to shut the shop, and Joshua said, 'And take this along for Mr. Craig, will you?' The trial of Abraham Thornton for the murder of Mary Ashford. She looked at the tide. 'What does he want with this?'

'He collects literary Victoriana on crime.' 'Does he?' She hadn't known. She hadn't really known anything about Connal Craig, except for that lodestar pull of attraction. That could still be operative, she supposed, if tension didn't inhibit her into numbness when he was near. It was as well. She needed defences, it was a million years too late for anything else. Danny thought Connal was her enemy and Danny could be right. Harriet had said he was not the man to forget an injury. She put the book into her handbag, and picked up the letters, then said goodnight to Joshua and she would see him in the morning. When Jill got home Elinor was quite her old self, in a matching silk dress and jacket in sludge green, brightened by half a dozen thin gilt chains around her neck. There was cold meat and salad waiting. Elinor was going out for the evening, Danny was already out with some friends, and what was Jill going to do with herself? Jill had Tab in her arms; she was stroking the cat who was purring with full-throated satisfaction. She said, 'Oh, I'll have a bath, I think, and an early night.' Elinor was surprised. 'You're not going out? I can't it- member you ever staying in on a Friday evening before.' Jill said quietly, 'Last Friday I did,' and Elinor frowned because last Friday was taboo, we didn't talk any more about last Friday. Today had been bad enough, with a reporter coming round this afternoon, and a couple of phone calls this morning. But Connal had sent the reporter away, and he'd dealt with the phone calls. Elinor said, 'A reporter came.'

'I know,' said Jill. 'He came to the shop first.' 'Connal saw him. Connal has been so very helpful.' Jill ought to know, Elinor thought, that they owed a great deal to Connal. 'Has he?' said Jill. 'Just how helpful has he been?' Her mother told her what he was paying in rent; it was the figure Danny had quoted that first day. 'And,' said Elinor, 'the bills for the reception.' 'Why did you let him pay them?' asked Jill. Elinor said with dignity, 'Because I was worried to death and he insisted. He said they were at least partly his responsibility.' Jill set Tab on the floor. 'But they weren't. You insisted on inviting all those people. Connal never said he wanted them, I didn't want them.' She remembered that week, how each day had piled chaos on confusion, how bewildered she had been, how wretched she had felt. She said miserably, 'If it had been a quiet wedding I might have been able to talk to him, I might never have had to run away.' 'Jill!' Elinor was stabbed to the heart. 'How could you? You're blaming me?' 'No.' 'Yes, you are.' 'I'm not blaming you. I just wish—it's too late, I know, but of course I wish things had gone differently, and we can't let Connal pay the bills. It's degrading accepting his charity after what I did.'

Elinor's words could have been chipped out of ice. 'I have never accepted charity in my life, nor do I consider this charity. It was a sweet gesture made by a very kind man. And while we're down to plain speaking I think you're going to regret having turned Connal down, because he would have made a wonderful husband. He has behaved splendidly.' The perfect gentil knight, except that Danny had said he was their enemy. Jill said, 'Please show me the bills.' 'I haven't any bills. Connal said I was to forget them, he would deal with them.' Jill said hysterically, 'That should send up his stock with the caterers. Or maybe now he's got your contract that says he can stay here he won't pay the bill,' 'Connal is a gentleman,' said Elinor. 'I'm sure he is,' said Jill, 'but I owe him so much I don't think I can bear to make it another penny.' 'What do you owe Connal?' Elinor Manning was thinking of money. Jill said, 'Damages, for people laughing behind his back for the next ten years, Danny says,' and Elinor said tetchily, 'Danny's teasing you. Do stop making such a fuss. And for goodness' sake get someone round here, or go out, and pull yourself together, Jill. If I can carry on and put all this unpleasantness behind me I'm sure you should be able to.' But no one had asked Jill out, and she was hard pressed to think of anyone she could phone without embarrassing them. When her mother had gone she went upstairs. Connal was here, he was typing,

so she walked the side of the passage farthest from the door instinctively, and a little faster as she passed it. She didn't want him to hear her, or come out. She didn't want him to know she was alone. 'Do you know what Paulene's saying?' Angela had asked. Paulene was saying around what she had said to Jill... You were laughing, nobody laughs for nothing, do they? ... Why did you do it? For kicks? ... Somebody had to tell them it wasn't like that. Among all her friends there had to be somebody she could talk to, who would listen. Paul perhaps? Paul Allen was always prepared to listen to all sides of any question. But he was discriminating, an artist who looked beneath the surface and didn't take things at face value. If she could only talk to Paul she could start at the beginning, and he would understand that it hadn't been heartlessness, and she hadn't laughed. She dialled his number and he answered and that was one obstacle over, he could have been out. She said, 'It's Jill here. Paul, can I talk to you?' She heard a door upstairs open and shut and that could mean that Connal was coming, and she said quickly, 'Will you come round, please?' She put down the phone and from the top of the stairs Connal said, 'Finished? May I use it?' 'Of course.' She went back into the kitchen and stayed there for the fifteen minutes it should take Paul to get into his car and drive over. When she heard the doorbell she knew that he had come right away.

She had never needed a friend so badly. He had told her once that he would do anything in the world for her, and all she wanted him to do was listen, just listen. She opened the door and said, 'Bless you for coming.' Inside the hall she said, 'It was good of you, I do want to talk to you.' 'You rang off,' he said. 'I thought I'd better come over.' He was a slim fair young man, with a sensitive face. Both face and voice were strained almost out of recognition, and he looked at Jill as though she carried a deadly virus. ' Why he said huskily. 'I thought I was in love.' 'I can understand that. But you let the man get to the register office and then you left him.' 'Please let me explain.' If she had tried to touch him he would have shrunk away. She didn't try, nor did she try to make him listen when he went on speaking. She listened to him instead. 'I'm scared of you, Jilly. I never thought you could do a thing like that. Didn't you stop to consider at all how he'd feel, what it would be like for him?' 'Maybe a man like Connal Craig could take it, he looks as if he could, but I couldn't.' He was talking quickly, as if the sooner he said this the sooner he could go. "It would kill me. I can never trust you again, Jilly. I'm afraid of you.' She said, 'Then you'd better get out before I lure you into my parlour.'

When he'd closed the door behind him she covered her face with her hands. She was alone irretrievably. If Paul wouldn't listen nobody would. 'I'm glad to see you've still got a sense of humour,' said Connal approvingly. He was standing on the landing, leaning on the balustrade, like someone in the gallery of a theatre. She whirled round, staring up. 'How long have you been there? Have you been listening? How could you?' 'Oh, come on now!' He sounded amused. 'You couldn't really have wanted that. Anyhow, a jilting hardly counts when there's only one witness.'

CHAPTER SEVEN As Connal came down the stairs Jill said, 'I only wanted to talk to him.' Paul Allen hadn't listened. He hadn't wanted her story. He had imagined himself as she had left Connal Craig, with half the town looking on, and that had been enough to give him nightmares. 'You can't win 'em all,' said Connal. That had been a humiliating scene, but not the first and not the last, and Connal was entitled to smile. As he had said, there was only one witness to this. This was nothing, although she was shivering from it. If she moved it would look like running again, so she stood still until he reached her, then he did. 'Did you want him?' 'To talk to.' 'You didn't do much talking.' 'I didn't get much chance. He was terrified. I could have been a black widow spider!' Connal laughed. 'The least you can do is send him back his painting.' He went to the drawing room and stood in the doorway, looking across at her picture over the mantelpiece. 'Why should I?' she said. 'Why not?' He took it down. 'He isn't even a good artist.' 'That's how he saw me.' She spoke quietly, to herself, as he held the picture at arms' length.

'In the eye of the beholder,' he said. Beauty ... but she was never that beautiful, nor that serene... She said, 'Maybe he'll paint me again, in my spider web.' 'I shouldn't think so.' 'Neither should I.' As he turned to replace it on the wall she said quickly, 'Don't hang it up again, please.' 'What shall we do with it?' 'Oh—put it behind the screen.' There was a high Victorian screen in one corner. During winter months it kept out the draughts, set around the door. She said shrilly, 'Uncle Josh sent a book for you. I'll get it.' Her handbag was in the hall. Her hands were still shaking, but she got out the book, brought it back and offered it to Connal. 'The trial of Abraham Thornton,' she said. 'Do you have it?' 'No.' He turned pages and she said, 'You collect nineteenth-century crime records?' 'Yes.' 'Do you use them in your work?' Her voice was brittle bright. 'They're mainly relaxation. Old passions, old mysteries.' 'Who was Abraham Thornton?' She didn't care who Abraham Thornton was, this was all a defensive shield of chatter, 'A landowner who might have murdered the village belle.' 'Only might have?'

'He was acquitted, and then her brother challenged him to a duel. It would have been the last trial by duel in England, as the law was changed immediately afterwards, but the duel was never fought. The brother's friends called it off. He was out of his class.' She tried to smile. 'Well, he showed spirit.' He did smile. 'I don't know what help he thought it would be to his sister at that stage.' She could even read a double meaning into this, and that was ridiculous. She said abruptly, 'Why did you ask if I minded you staying here when you had a contract of tenure?' 'It's your home. Do you want me to tear up the contract?' 'Would you?' 'Reluctantly.' She thought—you are here to stay. You own those rooms upstairs, you have the right to walk the corridors and the staircase. You're a tall man and you'll cast a long shadow. She said, 'I can't ask you to tear up a contract my mother signed. You know that.' 'Right,' he said. 'Well, I'm through for the day. What are you doing?' 'Me? Eating, I suppose.' She realised that she had no idea of the arrangements here. 'Do you usually eat with us?' 'I usually eat out.' He smiled. 'But I do have the use of the kitchen in my contract.' 'Can you cook?' That seemed unlikely. 'I had to. My father couldn't.'

'What was your father like?' 'A quiet man.' She waited and he said, 'That's all.' It couldn't be all. You couldn't sum up a lifetime like that. She had been fifteen when her father died and she could have talked about him for hours. She asked, 'How old were you?' 'Seventeen.' Tall then, thin then, no lines on the face. Perhaps without the self-assurance that seemed so inborn, but the toughness had not been something that grew, he must have started that way. He seemed to read some of her thoughts because he said, 'You haven't changed much since you were seventeen, have you?' 'I'm older.' But her life hadn't changed until three weeks ago. She said, 'Everything about you must have changed.' 'No,' he said. 'I remember the Gorbals, I can still speak the language.' There was no trace of an accent now, but she believed him. He asked, 'Are you phoning anyone else?' So he knew she had phoned Paul. She said, 'No.' 'Then you'd better eat out with me.' 'Why should you want to take me out?' If this was kindness she couldn't wear it. He said impatiently, 'Don't play humble, it doesn't suit you. You've got the same face and the same brain you had last week. The only difference is I'm not in love with you, and if I thought there was the remotest risk I'd put the Atlantic Ocean between us. In the meantime I'd like to take you to dinner.' Jill said stiffly, 'No. Thank you.'

'You'd rather sit around and feel sorry for yourself?' That was what it amounted to, although she denied it vehemently. 'Of course not!' 'Right,' he said, 'where shall we go?' She should be glad of proof that he was friend, not enemy, although she could have swallowed her cold meat and salad easier alone than a well cooked meal in his company. And suppose someone like Paulene and Roger were at the next table? She confessed, 'I don't want to meet anybody just yet.' 'Then we'll go out of town,' he said. 'Somewhere we haven't been?' Because that one week everywhere had been bewitched. It would be perilous to go back in case the magic lingered. This was not the man who had said 'Marry me,' but the man who had given his word he would never ask her to marry him. They drove out a long way and ate at a small hotel that neither had used before. There was no going back. This was the beginning of a relationship that would always have an undercurrent of distrust, and there was a tight knot of nerves in her stomach as she looked across the table at Connal Craig and tried to see him as though they were polite strangers meeting for the first time. The face was familiar, long and lean and intelligent. And hard. She hadn't noticed the hardness until last Saturday, but it must always have been there. What she had done was almost unforgivable and she must never take it for granted that she had been forgiven.

She was achingly ill at ease; how could she be anything else? She talked much less than usual, so Connal had to talk, and it was ironic that he should be talking about himself now. He had been just about everywhere. Worked around the world, it seemed. She said, 'You've packed your twenty-nine years.' 'Thirty years.' 'Oh! Danny said twenty-nine.' 'Until last Wednesday.' 'Last Wednesday was your birthday?' Obviously it was. They might have been on their honeymoon on his birthday. They would still have been on their honeymoon tonight. Somewhere in the Loire valley, the meal ended, coffee cups and a brandy glass on the table between them. Man and wife. She couldn't envisage that. She felt now that she could never have, had any power over this man. Certainly it was only his pride she had hurt, but pride was an overwhelming thing, and if he did keep his accounts squared she could be in jeopardy. There was another debt. She asked, 'Why did you pay for the reception?' 'A goodwill deposit. I wanted to stay at Sweet Orchard.' 'It impressed,' she said. 'My mother says you're a gentleman.' 'I'm not a gentleman, I just wear the skin.' The skin and the clothes and the air of affluence. He smoked an expensive cigar, and the waiter had caught his eye each time within seconds. She said, 'You look the part.'

He laughed. 'I must get Paul Allen to paint me. He's good at skins.' But Paul couldn't see what was inside. He had idealised Jill and when he had found she was fallible he had stared at her as though she had turned leprous. Jill kept her eyes down, hiding the memory, looking at Connal's hands with the long strong fingers and well-kept nails. She babbled, 'He'd probably have you sitting at a desk with your hand on your latest volume.' 'That could give the game away.' Connal put the cigar in the ashtray and turned his right hand, palm uppermost. There was a thin pale blue scar running straight from the base of the second finger to the wrist. 'I wasn't long in the coalmines,' he said, 'but I carry the brand.' She hadn't noticed it before when he had touched her, held her, put a ring on her finger. She remembered fortune- telling games and said idiotically, 'It's your line of fate.' 'Coal dust,' he said, 'it keeps the memory green.' 'Have you ever been back?' 'Often. I've friends there. One of them came for the wedding—it's a pity you missed him.' He sounded as though they had missed meeting for some small nuisance of a reason, like a train being late. She said, 'Please, how much was the reception account?' He told her and she said, 'You can't pay it! I can't let you. Can I give you fifty pounds on Monday and the rest at five pounds a week? Will that do?' That would close her bank account and cut down her spending money for a while, but it would clear one debt.

Connal shrugged, 'If you like. Or you could do some work for me. I need a typist.' She pleaded, 'I would rather pay. I'm not a very good typist.' She was fast and accurate, but it would be playing with fire to start working for Connal. His personality was too strong. She would be all kinds of a fool to see too much of him. 'Modesty again?' he said drily, and she tried another excuse. 'I'm very busy in the shop.' 'And the second-hand book business is a killing pace.' 'Talking of books,' she said, 'what's your new play about?' He watched her reflectively. 'You asked that before. The first night we met and never since. You were changing the subject then too. Your mother was harrying Danny on his prospects.' Danny's pretence had been transparent to Connal, it seemed, and so were Jill's tactics. He just sat there, watching her, the smoke from the cigar rising slowly, until she said desperately, 'Do you think Danny's worried because he isn't getting the parts?' 'Ask him.' It was a reasonable suggestion, and she had to admit, 'He won't tell me.' Her head was beginning to throb. Tension told. At the end of a working day if all your nerves stayed taut as violin strings they started to hurt. She rubbed the spot between her brows nervously with a fingertip and Connal asked, 'Do you want to go home?' Jill didn't want to sit here any longer. She had never felt more lacking in charm and confidence. It was getting harder not easier to

talk. She said, 'Yes, please,' and later in the car as they drove through the darkness she said, 'I wasn't much company, was I?' 'What makes you think that?' 'Because I'm so nervous I feel as if I'm wired up.' At least she couldn't see him clearly now. If she had been looking him in the face she couldn't have confessed, T don't know what to say to you. I hardly dare open my mouth.' 'And that's never happened to you before.' He sounded amused and she heard herself wail, 'None of this has ever happened to me before!' 'Cheer up, it isn't unique.' 'One man on Friday morning said that marriage was the only experience you hadn't tried,' and he laughed then, 'I haven't packed that much into my thirty years!' She wanted to tell him how sorry she was and she might never get another chance, almost in darkness, when he couldn't turn and look at her. She moistened her lips with the tip of her tongue and swallowed, then began to talk, her voice low. 'I realised the night before that I couldn't go through with it and next morning no one would listen to me, and I couldn't get in touch with you, but I should have phoned you when they'd gone, when I was alone in the house. I shouldn't have let Danny take me to the register office. 'Paul was right. To make a scene like that, when all your friends were there -'

'Not too many.' They overtook a car, she watched it slip back as they drew ahead. 'I only invited half a dozen,' he said. 'The rest asked themselves and should eat out on it for weeks. They'd ho complaints.' But Danny had said they would be laughing behind his back for years. She murmured miserably, 'I'm sorry.' He said crisply, 'If you're sorry for me I don't think I'm cut out for marriage, so why should I quibble at a last-minute reprieve? If you're sorry for yourself because you've disillusioned the Paul Aliens around here that's hard luck, and I have no idea what you can do about it.' He sounded as though she was weltering in self-pity and she thought—that's it! I don't have to go on saying sorry because Connal doesn't care, so it doesn't matter. She knew herself better now and liked herself less, but she didn't have to say sorry any more. 'If you need something else to occupy your mind,' he said, 'try asking Danny again what's on his mind.' 'Do you know?' This was no shock, it was nearly a relief because now it was coming into the open. 'Tell me.' 'Tell him I think he should.' Pleading wouldn't work, Connal would tell her nothing, and her mind ranged over a list that could be Danny's troubles. She considered a few with prickles of foreboding, and when they turned into the drive of Sweet Orchard she leaned forward to see if there were lights. There weren't, so probably no one was at home. The stables at the side of the house had been garages for a long time, and Connal drove his car in. Danny hadn't got a car down here. He had said he

was buying a new one, but he hadn't. So Danny was short of money, but Danny was always short of money. At the front door she fumbled in her handbag for her key and was still trying to find it as Connal put his key in the lock and opened the door. The hall was dark and seemed vast with shadows. She turned on the lights, and Connal said 'Goodnight.' 'Goodnight. Thank you for my dinner.' He picked up the book Joshua had sent, from the hall table. 'Do you want the village belle?' 'No, thank you,' she said. 'If I'm reading myself to sleep it won't be with a murder.' 'It was an accident. They decided she slipped into the millpond.' 'She should have kept away from the millpond if she couldn't swim.' 'Can you swim?' He grinned at her, and she smiled back, 'Like a fish.' He laughed, and Jill laughed too, and she wanted to say thank you again because it was her first real laughter in days. When he was almost at the top of the stairs she called, 'Connal.' He turned. 'Is it bad, whatever it is that's worrying Danny?' He looked down at her. 'He thinks it is. I hope you won't.' And that got her through the next half hour until Elinor Manning came home. Elinor had had supper with friends and a home movie showing. One of the movies, of their daughter's wedding, had been hastily put aside, and Elinor while appreciating the tact complained how embarrassing it had been, Laura saying, 'Oh, not that again,

everyone's seen that, put Pompeii on,' and everybody knowing why they couldn't show it. 'I couldn't have felt worse,' she wailed, and Jill said wearily, 'You could, if there'd been a home movie camera around last Friday.' Elinor looked pained. 'If that was meant to be funny, Jill, it's in very poor taste.' 'Sorry,' said Jill. It was in poor taste, it had been a poor joke. Jill waited until well after midnight, but Danny hadn't come home, and she had to go to work tomorrow. If he was not back in the morning before she left she would try Connal again, he might tell her something then. She certainly couldn't knock on 1m door tonight at this time ... She knocked on Danny's bedroom door just after eight o'clock and she heard his 'Eh?' and she called, 'It's Jill.' 'What do you want?' She went in. He was still in bed and he looked up at her blearily. Jill said, 'You were late home last night.' 'Well?' He was rapidly becoming wide awake. He sat up, touslehaired, but even in the half light through the drawn curtains his eyes were dark and alert. She stood at the foot of the bed and said without preamble, 'Connal said I was to ask you what the trouble was.'

The slurring of sleep had gone from Danny's speech. 'Exactly what did Connal say?' 'That. And that he thought you should tell me.' Danny picked up his watch from the bedside table, looked at it and put it back. Jill doubted if the time had registered. 'Pull up a chair,' said Danny, 'you may need one.' She stayed where she was and he said, 'Money is the matter. I'd reached the stage where it was a choice of pay up or get done over.' So he was in debt. That had seemed the likeliest thing. 'Gambling, love,' he explained. 'Horses mainly, and a touch of your roulette. I haven't had much luck anywhere lately. And the money-lenders too to try to hold them off because you get yourself in that little bit too deep and you begin to meet a rugged class of customer. This face is my stock in trade, such as it is, so I'm anxious to keep it healthy.' She knew that Danny enjoyed a flutter, she had never thought of him as a real gambler. When he told her how much she gasped, 'How on earth -?' and he grinned with the bravado of a scared small boy. 'Easy. No trouble at all getting yourself into debt. Getting out is the crunch.' They hadn't any money, but they would have had if they'd sold the house and she asked, 'Why didn't you let Mother sell Sweet Orchard, then she could have loaned you something? We'd have been buying a smaller place.' 'Because she believes in me,' said Danny stubbornly. 'She thinks I'm going to make the grade any day. I'm not Jilly, but I can't admit that to her because when I do there won't be anybody left who believes in me.'

'I believe in you,' she snapped. 'Stop feeling sorry for yourself'—that was what Connal had said to her last night. 'And how does Connal come into this?' 'I don't owe around any more. I owe to Connal. He went up the day before you should have got married, remember?' 'He said it was about a script.' 'It wasn't.' 'And you can't pay him?' 'Using what? Beads?' A sick suspicion struck her. 'Is that why you wanted me to marry him? Because you're in debt and he's got money?' Danny said nothing. He looked straight at her and she knew that he had no great strength but too much integrity to use her to save himself. He said quietly, 'I brought him here because Sweet Orchard seemed the kind of place he was looking for and by letting an apartment you could keep it on. I hadn't reckoned on what did happen.' She believed him. Who expects lightning to strike? He went on, 'If I'd been coining cash hand over fist I should still have been glad you were marrying him, and I should still have been scared when you made a public performance of jilting him. Craig's a hard man.' She knew, now she was through the dazzle zone of infatuation. Coal dust on the line of fate. She asked, 'What do you think he'll do?' 'Who to?' 'Well, he can't do much to me. To you, of course.'

Danny shrugged, 'I don't know. He could bankrupt me. He could call in the I.O.U. on demand.' 'Hasn't he said anything?' 'No. I've kept pretty much out of his way. He'll want his money back, of course, and the only thing I can suggest is paying it off. in instalments. I could get a job in the toy department again.' Danny had done casual work to tide him over while he was 'resting' before, once in the toy department of a London store. 'It would be chickenfeed, but he might consider it.' Jill turned to the door. 'I'll ask him if he's around.' 'You're sure?' 'He's talking to me,' she said, but she still went wishing this hadn't come right round to Connal. How was she going to ask him another favour? She found him in the kitchen making coffee and she said at once, 'Danny told me. He's always short of money, but I had no idea he was in this sort of debt. Please will you let him pay you back at so much a month? He'll take any sort of job.' Connal smiled. 'At this rate I'll soon be getting a regular income from the pair of you.' He had two coffee cups on the table, and he poured black coffee into them both. Then he said, I've got six months' hard work ahead. I told you I needed a secretary. You take the job and we can talk terms.' 'I couldn't leave the shop.' 'Evenings, week-ends.' 'All of them?'

'As many as I need you.' 'Why me?' 'You're on the premises.' He handed her a cup. 'You're competent. And you're no distraction.' Her brow furrowed and he asked, 'What other reason do you think I could have?' Jill could think of none. She said, 'I don't know and I don't care, it's a deal.' She sat down, poured in milk from the bottle on the table, and sipped a little of her coffee. 'I'm not going to need much free time for the next few months, from the looks of things. But how do you know I'm competent?' 'If you're not,' he said, 'you will be.' She poured milk into the saucer for Tab. As Connal sat down opposite her she said, 'Thank you for doing that for Danny. I didn't know.' He raised an eyebrow. 'Don't say you'd have married me if you'd known.' If she hadn't thought it was work that had occupied him that day she might have been less lost and lonely, she would have been grateful. He said levelly, 'That would have been a hell of a reason.' It would, it was as well she hadn't known. She said, 'Anyhow, thank you. I'll start this evening. I'm a good typist.' As she crossed the hall Danny came down the stairs. She said, 'He's in the kitchen, it's all right.' She was hissing like a conspirator, 'You can pay him so much a month and I'll work some of it off doing some typing.' 'You're going to work for Connal?' Danny didn't sound too happy.

'The next six months he says he's going to need a secretary.' 'Thanks, love.' He hesitated, then he said; 'But—Jilly, don't try to put the clock back, because he won't,' and she replied with more than a hint of asperity, 'I've been told that very plainly, and all I'm trying to do is pay off our debts, because it seems the whole family is owing him.' She told Joshua. Not about Danny's debts, but that she was settling up for the wedding reception and earning a little by typing out some of Connal's manuscripts. Joshua applauded the project. There had been some scathing comments about Jill over the past week, that she was spoiled and selfish, but if Connal Craig showed he had no hard feelings it was no concern of anyone else. When Harriet phoned the shop on Saturday evening Joshua told her, 'We've had a quiet couple of days. Business as usual, but it will be a little time before the young men start coming round again. Jilly has blotted her copybook.' Harriet could appreciate that. She was anxious to hear what was happening at Sweet Orchard, but reluctant to phone there in case she got Elinor. 'Mr. Craig,' said Joshua, 'is showing what I can only describe as a high sense of chivalry.' 'Chivalry?' Harriet echoed. 'Chivalry,' Joshua repeated. 'He's asked Jill to help him in his work. Last night he took her out, and he assured me he bears no malice whatsoever for last week's little contretemps.'

'Does he still want to marry her?' Harriet wanted to know. 'Does she want to marry him?' 'I think there's no question of that now, but she needs a friend, and Mr. Craig is proving a good friend.' 'He sounds,' said Harriet, 'almost too good to be true.'

Danny went back to London on Monday. Getting a moment alone with him while their mother was fussing with his last- minute packing, Jill pleaded, 'You won't do it again, will you?' and Danny ruffled her hair as he used to do to tease her when she was a schoolgirl. 'Cross my heart,' he vowed with exaggerated gravity. Then the gravity became genuine, and he said in quiet earnest, 'Don't fret, Jilly, I'll keep up the payments. Craig doesn't have bad debts.' 'Someone else said that,' Jill recalled, but when Danny asked 'Who?' she said, 'What time do you get there?' pushing the phrase and the coincidence of its repetition out of her mind. She was glad of something to occupy her spare time. It would have been evenings at home alone if she hadn't been working for Connal, It was going to be a slow process, getting back into the social whirl, such as it was, and she couldn't feel sorry for herself because she had asked for it. On Saturday evening she had gone up to Connal's apartment as soon as she had eaten, telling herself this was a job like any other job. Her main qualification was that she was no distraction. Connal could work with her, he'd said so at Harriet's, and that the only thing he would hate was getting involved with her again.

Involvement was out for Jill too. She had come through her infatuation, she was wiser now. Tab appeared to be making himself at home here. He was curled up in the armchair. Connal asked as she came into the room, 'Are you any good at filing?' 'Yes. Filing what?' 'Have a go at that lot, will you?' He indicated the cabinet. 'And there's a easeful of papers in the bedroom from the last trip.' Some of the files had haphazard contents, and she set about getting them into order. They represented a crash course on the progress of Connal Craig over the last ten years. It took her Saturday evening and all Sunday, and it would have taken longer if she could have pleased herself and read all the notes and looked harder at the photographs. A pity it was work, but later she could always take out the files again and go over them again. Connal didn't talk to her. Mostly he worked at the desk, although once or twice he came over when there was something she couldn't place. Like the photograph of arid land that seemed to be shimmering in the heat, and giant boulders interspersed with incredible cacti, in a file that covered three months in a lighthouse. 'Mexico,' he said. 'Ever been to Mexico?' She smiled, 'Majorca on a package deal is my limit.' Holidays had always been fun, but if money hadn't been tight it would have been wonderful to really travel. He dropped the photograph into the right envelope and said, 'I'll send you a postcard next time.'

'And I'll send you one,' she said. 'Do we have a file for Blackpool?' On Monday evening Elinor was inclined to be weepy because Danny had gone and Joshua, always considerate, came home with Jill. Elinor might take Jill, leaving her to work with Connal as a double desertion tonight, so Joshua ate with them and helped Elinor with the washing up, and Jill said, 'You know where I am if you need me.' She knocked Connal's door and called, 'It's Jill,' and he said, 'Come in.' Once when she had stepped into this room nothing outside had seemed real, but now it was only a room in a houseful of rooms, and downstairs her mother and Uncle Josh were talking and moving and she was back on the same wavelength as the rest of the world. She had finished the filing. There was a pile of papers to be copy typed for the TV play, and she typed for a while, while Connal sat writing on a clipboard pad, sitting in a chair by the empty fireplace. When she stopped he looked up. 'Anything the matter?' 'No,' she said. The play was set in a Spanish village, high in the mountains, inaccessible in winter, and this was winter. Montana della Aguila, she didn't know what that meant, but she could visualise it from the description. And the characters, she could imagine them from the way they spoke. She turned the pages, reading ahead. 'It isn't finished?' 'It's hardly begun. And it runs to six scripts.' 'What happens?'

He shrugged. 'I wish I knew.' Jill went back to the typing and she could hear them speaking the words, and feel the forces that were shaping their lives. The past built up, merging with hints of what could lie ahead, so that they moved, rounded and breathing, around her. She gasped once, at a few stumbling words that clawed her nerves. 'What?' he said. 'This.' He came across. 'What about it?' 'It's good,' she said lamely. 'Let's hope the viewers enjoy it.' 'I wouldn't say I'm enjoying it, but I think I'm hooked on it.' She said again, it's very good.' 'I'm flattered.' With sudden insight she said quietly, 'You're not flattered. You know what you can do.' She turned to look up at him as he stood beside her and for a moment their gaze locked. When he spoke his voice was flat, 'You're right. I've always known what I can do.' She typed on. They did no more talking, until Connal said, 'That's enough for tonight,' and then she realised that it certainly was, and she was so stiff that when she flexed her shoulders and stretched her neck she winced.

He said, 'A drink?' 'Coffee, I think. You have had a meal, I suppose?' 'Yes, but I wouldn't mind something else. We could try a pub.' She offered, 'I'll bring some supper up,' and asked, 'May I look at the pictures of -1 she spelled it out—'Montana della Aguila again?' He smiled, probably at her pronunciation. 'The Mount of the Eagle.' Jill had filed notes and photographs, but now it was almost as though she had visited the village herself and knew the villagers. She wanted him to talk about them. Connal said, 'Surely,' and she went downstairs, looking into the drawing room where Joshua and Elinor were sitting with a couple of friends who had turned up some time during the evening. 'Hello,' said Jill, 'I'm getting some supper. Anybody want anything?' 'That's all right, dear,' said Elinor, 'I'll see to us. Is Connal coming down?' 'We're still working,' said Jill. Her mother's friend, a lady who had met Jill on the staircase that Saturday morning and been very annoyed with her, sounded impressed. 'Your mother tells us you're helping Mr. Craig with his play.' Jill laughed; no wonder Uncle Josh was hiding a smile! 'I'm doing some typing for him, that's all.' She laid a tray with a cold supper and took it upstairs. The photographs meant more to her now: shots of houses, narrow streets, the church and the churchyard protected by a high wall, inscriptions and photographs set in the wall. The same names again and again, a

tiny community with few families and their roots deep through generations. These were not the names in the play. Nor the people, Connal said. But it was while he was living with them that the theme of his stories had come to him. The matador Ignacio Lorca, famous throughout Spain as the Eagle, but now getting too old for the bullring, returning to stay the winter in the mountain village where he was born and where time seemed to stand still. The men, craftsmen in wood and cork brought up the narrow passes by mules, or chipping the hazardous rock outcrops for amethyst and topaz. The women caring for homes and children, embroidering and making goats' milk cheeses for selling down below. That was how it had been for centuries. But this winter when the snows came and even the narrow passes were closed the ageing Eagle was there to prove the catalyst and change the pattern of their lives. One man has always hated him, from a moment in their youth when a brother slipped to his death. A woman has loved him, but finds now that he has forgotten everything she remembered. Connal had his characters now, their homes, their setting. 'A place like the photographs, although this village wasn't called Mount of the Eagle. That doesn't really exist.' 'It does,' said Jill. 'And they do.' They ate their supper and Jill listened. In the weeks ahead the unravelling action was going to be like coming on a strange country and being told the secrets of everyone who lived there. She knew their names now, soon she would know them.

Next day, as she worked she found herself thinking continually about the play, wondering about the characters, even idiotically worrying about them. It was a good month for Jill. None of her old admirers asked her out, but that didn't matter because she was busy, and anyhow she wouldn't have gone. What was happening in the village of the Mount of the Eagle was more exciting than anything happening around town. Connal was not easy to work for, but with him she breathed ice cold mountain air, and lived on the razor edge of human emotion and endurance. She had always wanted to write herself. The next best thing was to help someone else, in a little way, to create a world. Around town they would probably still be gossiping about what Jill Manning had done and wondering how she had got away with it. But Connal was glad she had stopped the wedding. He was a born bachelor, and Jill was coming round to thinking that probably so was she, and there was a lot to be said for unpossessive relationships. Life in the bookshop went on as it always had, except that there was no sign of Paul or Roger or any of their predecessors. Jill served customers, and answered letters, and went here and there when Uncle Josh sent her, acquiring stock. Connal went along with her to a couple of auctions, looking out for items for his Victoriana collection. He was knowledgeable, she was glad of his company, and of his advice over one lot when she was undecided about how high to go on the bidding. Joshua Aslett, although cautious to the bone, was beginning to relax again. Everything seemed to be settling down, for which he was truly thankful. He knew his limitations and he was not at his best under stress.

Jill looked happy again. She was spending as much time with Connal Craig as she had done that first week, but she was not moving around in a shining-eyed haze these days. She was the old Jill, cool and coping, gay and full of life; and when two of Craig's friends, a married couple called Denis and Doreen Elms, came down to spend the weekend with him, Jill joined the party and the four of them went off on Sunday in Craig's car. The man was a TV producer, the girl was in documentary research, and they drove into hilly country and walked and talked and reached a farmhouse at dusk that served home- cured ham and free-range eggs. Jill liked her new companions, although she felt a little embarrassed with them because they had been at the register office. She hadn't seen them there, she had hardly seen anyone clearly that morning, and neither spoke of it. But she knew quite surely they had been there when she should have married Connal. They took their tune from Connal now and he showed that he and Jill were friendly, so they were friendly, and as they ate their ham and eggs and tore apart crisp-crusted bread Doreen said, 'You must come and stay with us.' They lived in a houseboat on the Thames at Teddington. 'Connal, will you bring Jill?' 'We'd like that,' said Connal, and Jill thought—I would, and hoped he meant it and hoped he would take her. She said after they'd left, 'They were there, weren't they? They must have thought I was off my head.' Connal laughed. 'Forget it. Did you like them?' 'Yes, I did.' 'Right, shall we go and visit them?'

While the Elms had been here and they had been climbing the hills Connal had put an arm around her, and held out a hand to help her over the humps, and she had glowed at his touch, because he was very attractive and she had always known that, she had never denied that to herself. Now she said 'Yes,' and hugged him, and he smiled down at her; he was a lot taller than she was, and there was no other response. It wasn't a rebuff, just proof that her touch struck no sparks, and she dropped her hands hastily, although it had only been a casual friendly gesture, she hadn't been trying to start anything ... The man who came into the bookshop one morning had picked up a volume from the bargain trough outside and was asking Joshua if they had anything else on the same subject when Jill walked in from the storeroom. He promptly switched his eyes and his question to her, and Joshua went back to some repair work he was doing on a binding. The customer was a stranger, not a local so far as Jill knew, not a regular. He was young and comfortably trendy, and his appreciative look was endearing. Jill hadn't had much male appreciation of late. She warmed to the stranger, and found him another book on old churches, and agreed with him that it was a lovely day. He was making for Chester, he told her, he'd come from Birmingham and stopped here for lunch. Could she recommend anywhere? She told him where the food was. The Swan was probably best value, they did a business man's midday menu and gave a real meal for your money. He asked, 'Where do you eat?' 'At home.' He made a point of looking at her left hand and she laughed as he said,

'How about the Swan today?' Then suddenly it seemed an agreeable idea. Sometimes she had a snack lunch in Uncle Josh's kitchen upstairs, sometimes she went back to Sweet Orchard for a snack there. She had intended to go home today, but her mother didn't cook midday and wouldn't be inconvenienced. So why not? Jill said, 'All right. Browse around and see if you wouldn't like to buy another book, I'm off in ten minutes.' Joshua, overhearing, thought this was like old times, and Jill phoned home and told Elinor she was having lunch at the Swan. They went across the square and sat at the table in the corner and chose their food, then they sat back and looked at each other in mutual approval. He was Don Ricketts, studying architecture, and he had the sort of face you immediately like, even if you can never quite remember it. He told her about himself, and Jill ate her plaice and chips, and half an hour passed pleasantly. He had to go on to Chester, but he would very much like to see her again, he said, and what was she doing, say, next Wednesday evening? She saw Connal come in, and raised a hand when he saw her. He did sometimes lunch here and he came across to their table. Heads turned as he passed, they always did, even heads that didn't know him. He grinned at Jill, and raised an eyebrow at Don, while Don's eyes measured him with a touch of trepidation. There were two empty chairs at this table and she said, 'Join us?' Connal sat down. 'This is Don Ricketts,' she said. 'Don, this is Connal Craig.' Connal said, 'How do you do.' Don said,

'Connal Craig?' He knew the name. He sounded as though he'd read the books, and as though he was remembering what had been written about Connal Craig a few weeks ago. Then he looked at Jill again, inevitably recalling that photograph, and Connal said pleasantly, 'Do you come from around here?' 'No. No, I stopped for lunch.' 'And bought some books,' said Jill. 'I see,' said Connal. Don was less confident than he had been. He said he admired Connal's work and Connal thanked him. He asked what Connal was working on now and Connal said, 'Television scripts,' and asked what Don's line was. Don Ricketts was ambitious, but he was still a student, and that didn't sound so impressive. Connal Craig was impressive without trying. If he was trying, Don suspected, he could be murder. By the time Craig had a medium rare steak in front of him Don Ricketts was admitting that he had better be on his way. Jill smiled, 'It was very nice meeting you. Call in on your way back.' 'I'll do that.' He hesitated. 'About Wednesday evening --' Jill looked at Connal and Don said hastily, 'Yes, well, anyway I'll look in. Goodbye, and good luck with the play.' 'And good luck to you,' said Connal. Jill could have explained that there was a misunderstanding here, but it wouldn't have been that easy, so she watched him go.

Connal said, 'I hope I didn't put him off.' 'I think you did.' 'Sorry. I didn't think to mention I'm not in the running.' 'I was going to ask if I could have a night off typing. Not much point now, is there?' 'You could catch him if you hurry.' Not with Connal's amused eyes on her. Jill smiled, 'I'll catch him on the way back,' and laughed because it was quite funny. 'Anyhow,' she said, 'he bought three books.' She stayed with Connal until her lunch hour was up, then went back to the shop where Joshua greeted her with a sigh and told her, 'Harriet's here.' 'Oh, good.' Harriet was a rare visitor, but to Jill she was always a welcome one. 'Upstairs,' said Joshua, 'having a cup of tea. I suspect she has come to reassure herself that you're all right, although I've repeatedly told her so.' Jill herself had written to Harriet, and phoned her a couple of times, but Harriet Aslett preferred the evidence of her own eyes. Jill hurried up the stairs to where Harriet was tidying the living room— she always did, although Joshua liked his little clutter around— flung herself at Harriet and hugged her demanding, 'Why didn't you say you were coming?' 'Because I only made up my mind an hour or so ago. I'm collecting for the Nearly New stall for the fete for the Village Hall roof. Your

mother must have some nearly new clothes she wouldn't be seen dead in.' Harriet's clothes lasted her until they fell to pieces, and she hadn't changed her style in thirty years. But Elinor loved clothes and dressed beautifully and was always elegant. And she would certainly hand over for the Nearly New stall. Jill smiled, 'You're a wicked woman, but it's good to see you.' Harriet decided, 'You don't look so bad.' 'Why should I? I'm fine.' 'Joshua says you went out to lunch with a new young man.' 'Yes, I did.' Jill began to laugh. 'I was doing very nicely there until Connal joined us and my young man took fright.' Harriet had been making tea as well as tidying. She had the tea on the table and she sat down now and poured herself a cup. She said, stirring briskly, 'You're still working for Mr. Craig in the evenings?' 'Yes.' Jill sat down too. 'Harriet, it's marvellous. It's set in Spain, in a mountain village, but it could be anywhere, these people -' 'Every evening?' Harriet cut in as Jill was about to launch into the story, and Jill checked herself feeling deflated. 'Well—yes.' 'And weekends?' 'Yes.'

Harriet's features showed no glimmer of light, and her voice was heavy and deliberating. 'You're not going out with anyone else at all?' 'The weekend before last I did.' Jill couldn't figure what this was all about, but she explained, 'Some friends of Connal's came down.' 'His friends?' 'Why not?' Harriet asked abruptly, 'Is he still in love with you?' 'No. But we get on very well together.' 'And you're not in love with him?' 'No.' 'Then see you keep it that way,' said Harriet. 'It could be the saving of his pride to treat you like you did him.' Dear Harriet, what a lunatic notion! Jill laughed a little, shaking her head, and Harriet said quietly, 'Not leave you at the church, I don't mean that, but leave you high and dry when you're dependent on him.' Jill pointed out, 'But I'm not dependent on him.' 'What other interests have you got now,' Harriet demanded, 'besides the shop here, and his work?' The village of the Mount of the Eagle, she had been drawn into that. She was deeply involved there, but it was only make-believe.

'As for friends,' Harriet went on, 'who else do you see except Joshua and the customers and Mr. Craig every evening and every weekend? This young man just now was the first man you've been out with since you came back, wasn't he? And Mr. Craig scared him off?' She emphasised the words and she wasn't laughing. Jill protested, 'Not deliberately. He didn't mean to.' 'No?' Harriet got a wealth of doubt into that and Jill said, 'Why should Connal hurt me? I didn't hurt him.' 'Not even his pride?' 'No.' That might be hard to believe, but he had said forget it, and she was trying to forget it. She said a little raggedly, 'It's all right, Harriet. Don't worry, everything's fine. But I'll tell you something you can have for your Nearly New stall—a wedding dress. I would like that out of the house.' She meant it. She would never wear that dress again. When she got home she brought it downstairs and took it into the drawing room to add to the other things her mother had been rounding up for Harriet's fete. Harriet and Elinor were fencing happily across the tea table in the dining room while Joshua sat listening less happily, counting the minutes till seven o'clock when Harriet had promised she would be leaving. The dress glimmered over the chair where Jill dropped it. Every time she looked at it a sick ache crept through her. She wanted it gone. And Paul's painting. That was still behind the screen. No one would know her at the village fete. Picture of a girl with beige hair, selling

for a song. The frame was worth something, in prettily grained natural wood. Jill went behind the screen and Connal came into the room. She saw him in the oval mirror that had replaced the painting over the mantelpiece. He would see her if he looked ahead into the glass, but he didn't. He stopped at the chair, and the golden dress that he must have seen through the open door. He stood looking down at the dress, and Jill flinched back because he had lied when he said he'd forgotten. She felt the impact of his anger like a blow, and she pressed her hand across her mouth and closed her eyes against it.

CHAPTER EIGHT CONNAL turned on his heel and went out of the room. Jill heard his steps on the carpet and opened her eyes and watched him go in the mirror, wide shoulders, dark hair, the back of him, and wondered if his face still showed anger. She had been scared he would look up and see her reflection. He must have spoken if he had, and if his words had matched his eyes they would have been savage. She waited a few moments more before she stepped out from behind the screen. Then she folded the golden dress as small and flat as possible, and put it at the bottom of the pile, covered, nothing showing. She hated it too. Every time she had opened her wardrobe door and seen it hanging there the memories of that day had come crowding back, and of course they had for Connal. It must have been lacerating, his friends watching the girl he was waiting to marry running from him. There must be hurt pride, no matter how well he hid and held it down. When he saw that dress again and believed himself alone of course it would show. She went out into the garden for a few minutes, because she had to calm down before she could go in to Uncle Josh and her mother. Certainly before she could face Harriet again. Harriet's eyes were always too keen for comfort. The gardens had never looked better. Sweet Orchard had a gardener two days a week now, because Connal's rooms overlooked the gardens and he had found a gardener and he paid him. Jill went back into the house as her mother and Harriet were putting the newly new articles into a large case. Elinor had a brief tussle with cupidity when she found the wedding dress at the bottom of the pile. 'Are you sending this?' Jill nodded, and Elinor mourned, 'The

money it cost! I don't know, I should have thought something could have been done with it.' 'Something is being done with it,' Jill pointed out. 'It's going to raise cash for the village hall roof.' Elinor said tartly, 'There's three hundred pounds needed to repair our roof, according to Joshua,' and Harriet said, 'It is a beautiful dress, Jilly, maybe you should -' 'No,' Jill pleaded. 'Take it. Raffle it or something, I don't want to see it again. Please, Harriet.' Elinor seemed to realise that Jill was in desperate earnest, because suddenly she rammed the dress into the case, slammed down the lid and said, 'Oh, for goodness' sake take it I If ever a dress was unlucky that was.' She clicked the locks and looked at Harriet. 'Can you manage this, dear? Shall I ask Joshua or Connal to carry it out to the car?' Harriet laughed, 'I think I can just about lift it.' Elinor never carried cases. Women packed them, men carried them in her book, and when Jill picked it up Elinor protested, 'I'm sure Connal wouldn't mind.' 'Oh, Mother, don't be ridiculous!' snapped Jill, and while Elinor was recovering from this—Jill didn't often snap—she carried the case out to the car. Harriet went with her. 'The boot's unlocked,' said Harriet. Jill opened the boot and put in the case and asked, 'What's the matter with the village hall roof?'

'Old age.' 'Snap. That's what's the matter with our roof.' She turned smiling, and Harriet said quietly, 'Jilly, you know if you need the cottage it's always there.' 'Thanks, love.' That wasn't so crazy now, when she remembered Connal's face not ten minutes ago. But she said, 'Only I'm not running away again.' 'Of course not.' Harriet locked the boot. 'But get out and about a bit more, don't stay at home very night.' She smiled too, making a little joke of it. 'After all, you didn't marry the man.' 'I didn't, did I?' said Jill. They waved Harriet goodbye. As her old car snorted its way down the drive and out into the road Elinor asked patiently, 'Why is that a visit from Harriet always upsets everyone?' It upset Joshua because he liked a peaceful atmosphere and Harriet and Elinor could never resist provoking each other, but Jill said, 'Harriet's visits don't upset me.' Her mother sighed, 'Then why are you so bad-tempered?' So that was the trouble! Jill apologised, 'I'm tired, I'm sorry,' and teased, 'And Harriet doesn't upset you either. She makes you feel marvellous, because you look younger than she does.' 'I am younger,' said Elinor, 'and I'd forgotten all about our wretched roof until Harriet started talking about the village hall. Now there's another worry.' She walked backwards, looking up. 'I can see there

are a few tiles off, but I shouldn't have thought it need have cost that much. Joshua, what are we going to do about it?' Whatever was going to be done wouldn't be done tonight. Jill left them, then went back into the house and upstairs and knocked on Connal's door. He was sitting at the desk and she felt if she had said, 'I saw you when you saw my wedding dress again,' he wouldn't have known what she was talking about. He probably didn't realise how grim he had looked, but she had been afraid of him for a moment and she said now, 'Please could I have a night off?' 'Of course.' 'Tonight?' 'Surely,' he said. 'What are you going to do with yourself?' 'I thought I'd walk round to Angela's.' Angela had phoned several times, and suggested meetings, but Jill had never had a spare evening. Now she was taking one because Harriet was right, she must not become dependent on Connal. That would make her too vulnerable. 'Enjoy yourself,' he said. Deep down she suspected she would have enjoyed herself more by staying and that was why she had to go. Angela shared a flat over a dress shop, with the two sisters who ran the shop. She had lived in this town all her life, but when her father retired her parents had gone to Frinton to live. Jill phoned her from a phone box; she didn't want Connal knowing this was a spur-of-the-moment decision, still less did she want him hearing if Angela had other plans. But it couldn't have been better.

Not only was Angela in for the evening but her flatmates weren't, and she said it would be lovely if Jill could come round, just like the old days. 'See you in ten minutes, then,' said Jill, and hung up, reflecting that although it had been less than three months since the old days they seemed a long time ago and a long way away. The door to the flat was on the latch and Jill went upstairs, calling 'Angie!' Angela opened the door at the top. 'Hi!' It was a nice little flat and Jill knew it well. The photograph of Angela's boy-friend who was in the Navy grinned across from pride of place on the sideboard, and although Angela should have been marking schoolbooks she had been writing to him and licked down the edges of the airmail as Jill walked in. 'Remember me to Roy,' said Jill. 'I have,' said Angela. 'I've just put a P.S. to say you were coming round. Sit down and have a piece of sandwich.' The sandwich was a sponge oozing cream and Angela, who was trying to diet, had succumbed to temptation on her way home. She had already eaten a large slice and was regretting her fall. She cut one for Jill and asked, 'Everything all right?' 'Yes,' Jill sank into the lounging sofa. 'But I suddenly felt like an evening away from the typewriter.' 'How are things going?' 'The play's going marvellously.' 'Just the play?'

'Yes.' Jill put down her plate on the floor and said suddenly, 'Do you believe I don't care about what I did?' 'Of course not!' But the times Angela had heard it said that Jill should have been more ashamed, that she was acting as though she didn't care. Angela said now, 'What's it got to do with anybody except you and Connal?' 'It has, though,' said Jill. 'Paulene says I was laughing and that makes it sound as though it was some sort of joke. I don't know how I could have been laughing. I was nearly out of my mind. It was the worst day of my life.' Her eyes were wide and dark and Angela sighed, 'Oh, Jill,' biting her lip and feeling inadequate. 'It was my fault. I shouldn't have said I'd get married so soon, but once I had said it everything ran wild. You saw what it was like at our house.' Angela nodded. 'I couldn't stop it,' Jill gestured helplessly. 'It was like an avalanche. And Thursday morning Connal went to London and I didn't see him again until the register office. 'I took sleeping pills on Thursday night, the first I'd ever taken, and my mother gave me tranquillisers on Friday morning. I hardly knew where I was, the whole thing was a nightmare. 'I tried to get Danny to get Connal, but he wouldn't. He said go to the register office and tell him, and when I got there what could I say, what could I do?' Her voice rose and Angela blamed herself bitterly for not realising that morning that it was no 'stage fright' as Jill's mother had said, but a friend badly needing help. She asked belatedly, 'Why didn't you tell me?'

'I don't know.' Because she had thought Danny would help her. Angela said gently, 'Are you sorry you did it?' 'I'm sorry it happened that way, but I'm not sorry we didn't get married. And neither is Connal, I'm sure of that.' Angela brightened. 'O.K., then, it could have been worse, couldn't it?' 'Yes,' Jill agreed. Angela cut herself another slice of sandwich and bit into it absentmindedly because her mind was on making amends. She asked, 'Have you told Roger any of this?' 'I haven't told anyone, except Connal. He said forget it.' But he had not forgotten, he had not... That struck Angela as a fair-minded sentiment. She smiled, and Jill smiled faintly too. 'I did try to explain to Paul Allen, but he seemed to think I'd do it again if I got half a chance, and he was so scared it could happen to him.' Angela grimaced, 'Yeuk to him, Roger's got more sense.' 'He's got Paulene too.' 'But I wouldn't say she's got him. From what I hear,' said Angela smugly, 'that affair lasted about as long as yours did. Except that you're still living in Connal's pocket.' 'Yes,' Jill admitted, 'and I think it's time I got out of his pocket.' From then on the evening was like old times. They chattered; Jill didn't have much news except that Danny was temporarily selling

model railways and had phoned home this week with a couple of funny stories. So she told Angela about Connal's TV series and got Angela hooked too, and had to promise to tell her everything that happened next. Angela talked about school, and about Roy, and about other friends who hadn't been seeing Jill lately, until Jill said reluctantly, 'I ought to be going.' 'What time is it?' Angela gasped, looking at her watch, 'Oh no! I should have phoned my mother ages ago, I promised. Hang on a minute.' The phone was on the little landing at the top of the stairs. Jill washed up the plates and the mugs, put on her coat, and very soon Angela came back into the room to say, 'She sends her love. You're sure you've got to go? Although I suppose I'd better be marking some of these essays.' They talked a little longer, and then Jill headed for home. As the car drew up alongside and Roger opened the door and said, 'Can I give you a lift?' she knew this was no coincidence and Angela had not been ringing her mother. But in a couple of minutes Angela couldn't have told Roger much, so that he must have been ready to be friends again, and although Jill said automatically, 'It's all right,' she was pleased to see him. He said, 'Oh, get in,' and she did. By car it was only five minutes home, but he drove slowly, a change for Roger. He asked, 'How's things?' 'All right, and you?' 'All right,' he echoed. This was the car which Roger had been trying out the night Danny brought Connal to Sweet Orchard. He must

have been thinking back to that weekend too, because he suddenly said, 'We never did get in our trip to the sea, did we?' Connal had moved in that day. They had changed Sweet Orchard for him. He had changed Sweet Orchard. 'So how about next Sunday?' said Roger. The way Jill felt about Roger was familiar; there had been a lot of Rogers in her life. Liking, affection, that was what it was, but love could grow from affection, and she was grateful he still wanted to know her when she remembered Paul Allen's sensitive shrinking spirit. She said, 'Why not?' as the car turned into the drive and drew up in front of the house. 'Come in for coffee?' 'Why not?' he grinned. The drawing room door was open as they stepped into the hall and Elinor called, 'That you, Jill?' 'And friend,' Roger yelled back. 'Roger?' They both went towards the drawing room. Jill said, 'Roger gave me a lift from Angie's. We're just going to get a coffee.' The percolator was on the little table, and Joshua and Connal sat in armchairs. Elinor said, 'How nice to see you, Roger. I think there's some coffee left.' She lifted the pot. 'Yes, I think so.' Roger stood in the doorway. Connal Craig lived here. That was easier to accept in theory than it was to sit watching and know that he shared Sweet Orchard with the Mannings. Roger was damned if he felt like joining the family circle and acknowledging Craig as the

man of the house. He said, 'Thanks, but I don't think I'll bother.' He looked at Jill. 'See you Sunday, then?' 'This Sunday?' said Connal. 'Yes.' She anticipated no objection and she was tolerating none. 'I'll catch up on Monday with the typing, I want to go out on Sunday.' 'That's awkward,' said Connal. 'That's what we were just talking about. I had a call from Doreen Elms about our going over there. Joshua said you could have Monday off, and I told her we'd come this Saturday.' 'Oh! Wouldn't you know it?' Wasn't that the way things were? 'Shall I cancel it?' said Connal. Jill wanted to go. It would be a change and they had been nice. 'Oh dear!' She turned to Roger. 'Could we go to the sea the Sunday after?' He stared hard at her and then at Connal and scowled. Jill took his arm and closed the drawing room door behind them, then said softly, 'Would that be all right?' Like Paulene kept saying, 'Jilly Manning gets away with murder.' Roger almost shouted, 'No, it would not I' but there had always been a glow about Jill that made the other girls seem pale. He was jealous as hell of Connal Craig, and he had too good an opinion of himself to accept second place. He said, 'There's one thing I'd like to get clear. I didn't mind competition when it was Paul Allen, but I'm not taking him on. What is there between you two?' 'Nothing. That's finished.'

'Then how come you're going away with him for the weekend?' 'No,' she shook her head, 'it isn't like that. They're a couple I've just met. They're friends of Connal's, and they've got a houseboat on the Thames at Teddington, and the girl asked Connal to take me to see them and he said he would. That's all.' Roger didn't care for the sound of it. He scowled again, and Jill said, 'How about Monday night?' 'What about all this typing you're supposed to be doing?' She smiled, 'I'll give up my lunch hour on Tuesday, or I'll take the typewriter along to the houseboat and type in the bilges.' He said, and meant it, 'You are a nut.' 'True,' said Jill ruefully. He remembered how much he had laughed with Jill. Paulene had a snide sense of humour, she had never laughed at herself, but Jill had, often. All right, she had made a fool of herself, but she hadn't married Craig. Roger reached to touch her hair, and then drew her closer. He would have kissed her and she would have let him, but the drawing-room door opened and Connal came out. His shadow fell across them, and he stood for a moment, tall and dark and unsmiling, then he shrugged and turned to walk towards the staircase. Roger said, 'Good timing,' and smiled instead of kissing her. 'Goodnight, nut. Monday.' 'Yes.' At the front door he said, 'And don't go overboard at the houseboat.' 'I won't. Goodnight.'

As she closed the front door she realised that Connal was waiting for her at the foot of the stairs. He said, 'You should have told him it doesn't matter if you do fall overboard, you swim like a fish.' 'I don't think he meant it literally.' 'That I can well believe.' Jill's spirits were high. She had made friends with Angela and Roger again, she was looking forward to the weekend. She said, 'When do we go?' 'Saturday afternoon? Come back Monday afternoon?' 'What about the work? I took tonight off, and I would like Monday night.' 'It isn't a treadmill you're on.' She said impulsively, 'Of course it isn't a treadmill, I enjoy it. What happened today? What did I miss?' 'Do you want to know?' 'Yes.' They went to his apartment. She sat curled in the arm- chair with Tab on her lap, and he read what he'd written and they talked around it, and she was back again in the village of the Mount of the Eagle. So that when she said goodnight to Connal and went to her own room there were narrow streets in her mind, and houses cut out of the rock, rather than the wide suburban roads along which she had driven home with Roger ... The houseboat was roomy, and painted bright and gleaming, and Doreen showed Jill around with such pride of possession that Jill

would have enthused even if she had hated it. But it was delightful. She coveted it; and she always been fascinated by boats. 'We've got a four-berth launch down in Cornwall,' Doreen told her. Denis's family were boatbuilders. Connal had sailed with them from time to time. He was handy about boats, that didn't surprise Jill, and there was talk of them doing the Mediterranean coast for a month next spring. Denis was trying to get Connal to come along. 'You work on him,' said Doreen. 'You come too, of course.' 'I don't have any influence,' said Jill, but Doreen laughed, 'You've got to be joking. You've got to have influence. No one else -' she went on laughing and she might as well have said, 'No one else would have got away with what you did.' Jill had a tiny cabin to herself, and when Doreen said some time after midnight, 'Shall we call it a day and leave them to it?'—the men seemed all set to go on talking for hours—Connal kissed her lightly on the cheek and said, 'Sleep well.' She slept well. The wind had risen and she could hear the river slapping against the sides of the boat, but she slept well. They met other people that weekend. They went to a party on Sunday evening and most of the guests seemed to know Connal. Jill never found out how many of them had watched her public jilting of him, but they knew now that- she and Connal were living under the same roof, she was working for him; she stood in his shadow. She had taken it for granted that his reason for bringing her here was the reason he gave for taking her out to dinner the night he brought her back to Sweet Orchard. That he still enjoyed her company although there was no longer the remotest risk of him falling in love with her.

But maybe this was solace for his pride, showing them all that the girl who had run from him hadn't run far. One girl, with a shimmery orange dress and a model's face, did ask if there was ever going to be a wedding, and while Jill was stammering Connal said curtly, 'No.' Nobody asked again, and Jill thought wryly—Does this even the score? Because it must have seemed that she was unsure, but he wasn't. This time he had declined her before witnesses. All the same, she enjoyed herself. They were attractive, intelligent people, ready to accept her, accepting that she was attached to Connal. They all thought she was attached to Connal. One man surfaced at her side as she was talking to their host and asked hopefully, 'Do you belong to anyone?' Jill laughed, 'Don't let Women's Lib. hear you!' And the man whose house it was said, 'And don't let Connal Craig hear you either . ..' On Monday Connal was seeing a publisher in town and Jill was wandering around the shops, and having lunch with Danny. She hadn't seen Danny since he left Sweet Orchard to take this job and start paying Connal what he owed. He was paying regularly, and his phone calls home had sounded cheerful. When she'd told him where she was spending the weekend he had said, 'Connal's bringing you?' 'Yes.' Danny didn't seem to know what to make of that. Anyhow, he Would meet Jill for lunch. She knew where the toy department was, come along at one o'clock sharp.

After she left Connal she bought herself a new pair of shoes and a purple silk shirt, a rather gorgeous silk scarf for her mother, and a box of cigars for Uncle Josh. It had been months since she had had even a small shopping spree and this was pleasant. She would wear the purple shirt tonight for her date with Roger. She was regretting a little that she had suggested tonight. It could well be a rush, practically stepping out of Connal's car into Roger's. From Connal's company to Roger's company, and comparisons wouldn't favour Roger. So she must guard against comparisons, and she wondered again if she had been wise to spend this weekend in what was exclusively Connal's orbit and not hers. She should be leading her own life. It would be her own fault if the void when he went was unbearable. She went to find Danny and spotted him across the model railway display in the centre of the toy department. It was a splendid display with fields and farms and a tiny town. Little engines rushed here and there and Danny was fiddling with levers and talking to a middleaged man. Jill watched. The man was trying the controls now. Whether he was a customer or whether he simply liked playing with trains it seemed better not to disturb them, so she moved to the other end of the department and looked at dolls' houses instead. There was one fully fitted, even to the table laid with minuscule cutlery. A perfect prototype for future housewives, a home in embryo. Except that a home was more than walls and a roof and fittings and furniture. Sweet Orchard to Jill, for many reasons. To Connal it was where he was working. Danny had thought Connal would still pay the rent when he went away and keep on the apartment. His files might stay there, his books. By then the stories of the Mount of the Eagle would have

been told, but for Jill the ghosts might linger if she opened the door and walked into that room. So she wouldn't walk into that room. The door would be locked and dust-sheets brought out again. They had lived happily enough with dust-sheets for years. It would be like it was before Connal came. She was thankful she was seeing Roger tonight. With Roger she was the way she used to be, without a real enemy or a real care in the world. She decided to buy a nonsense present to make Roger laugh, and picked out a tiny puppet horse on a single string, with a wide grin and weak knees. She was paying for it when Danny tapped her on the shoulder and asked, 'Who's that for? Not me, I hope.' 'Why should I buy you presents? It's for Roger.' 'I'll bet it's what he's always wanted. Seeing him again, are you?' 'Mmm. Tonight.' 'What time?' 'Why? Seven o'clock.' 'Only Connal phoned half an hour ago to say he's going to be later than he thought. He can't get away before four.' 'Drat!' Well, it couldn't be helped. She would have to ring Roger and apologise and leave it to him whether he felt it would be worth coming round later. She said, 'Perhaps I should have bought Roger a better present.' Danny only had an hour for lunch. He rushed her to a little Italian restaurant where they knew him and the service was brisk, and ordered a good bottle of wine. Jill said, 'You'll be seeing your model engines double this afternoon.'

'Two for the price of one,' he said. She tilted her glass in his direction and drank a little, and he said, 'Everything is all right, isn't it?' 'Everyone asks me that. Yes, everything is all right.' 'I'm glad you've made it up with Sherman.' 'That's me settled. How's the model engine business?' 'You haven't asked how the acting business is.' She hadn't dared, but Danny was grinning broadly and her hand, with a forkful of spaghetti, stopped in mid air. 'Danny -?' Danny had news. An Australian tour, taking in all the big cities and lasting eight months. He had been auditioned to take the place of an actor who had fallen ill at the last moment, and yesterday had been told it was only a case now of signing contracts. Danny was immensely pleased with himself and Jill was delighted for him. He was a fine actor and nothing else gave him any real feeling of achievement. She was sorry, of course, that he was going so far away, but that was only a small shadow and for Danny it was an added bonus. He was eager to see more of the world. He ran through the list of towns where the company would be performing, stopping at Sydney to ask, "Isn't that where Jack Nelson comes from? Any message for him?' Jack Nelson was a young Australian who had come to England on holiday a year ago and been anxious to take Jill home with him when he returned. The eagerness was more on his part than hers, but they had parted friends, and her last letter from him had been just

before Connal came. She said now, 'I'll write and tell him you're coming. I owe him a letter.' Danny's news kept them talking until it was time for him to go back to his model railways. Jill asked, 'Now this job's nearly over, how has it been? Has it been boring?' 'It would have been,' he admitted, 'if I hadn't acted it. Though I say it myself, I put in a pretty keen performance as a demon salesman. Dead on the dot every morning, and my patter's one of the longest scripts I ever had.' She said lightly, 'You should have asked Connal to write you a script.' 'Perhaps he should have done,' said Danny wryly. 'The only reason I've sweated at the job was because I daren't risk losing it, because of Connal.' When she said goodbye to Danny Jill went to find a phone to phone Roger. She rang his office and was told he wasn't expected back today, he had gone to a car auction. Then she phoned his home and got no reply, so all she could do now was try again from somewhere on the way. With an extra couple of hours on hand she saw a lot more shops, and by the time she met Connal she had a lot more parcels and her feet were killing her. It was bliss to get into the car and kick off her shoes. 'Sorry,' he said, 'it was unavoidable.' 'It's all right. Did it go well?' 'Very well'

She waited until they were out of the city streets before she told him Danny's news, and then she told it bubbling with joy because Danny deserved his break. He had worked and waited and now he had the chance to use his real talent he would seize it and enjoy it and Jill couldn't have been happier for him. 'Good,' said Connal. 'Your mother should be pleased.' Jill smiled, wriggling her toes in the carpet of the car. 'Altogether it's been a lovely weekend.' 'I'm glad,' said Connal. 'There's something in my pocket for you.' 'For me?' She turned to him, but he was watching the road. 'What is it? Which pocket?' She had done this with her father and with Uncle Josh when she was a child. Memories came back faintly, adding excitement. 'The coat in the back.' It was under her carrier bags on the back seat, and Jill reached for it and rummaged and came up with a neatly wrapped square parcel. She spilled half the contents of her handbag digging for nail scissors to cut the scarlet string, then ripped at the paper and finally opened the box. It was a bracelet in heavy silver filigree. It looked antique and it looked expensive and Jill exclaimed, 'It's beautiful!' She clipped it on her wrist and it closed so that it was impossible to see where it fastened or how to unlock. Connal said, 'You have to touch the right spring to get it off. I'll show you later.' 'You shouldn't have bought this.' 'Why not? You've worked hard.'

She wished she had bought him something, although what could she have bought, what did he need? She said, 'Have a few cigars out of Uncle Josh's box.' He laughed. 'How would you explain the gap?' 'The rest's all female stuff.' She picked up the packet with the tiny puppet that she had spilled out of her handbag. 'I suppose you wouldn't like a very little horse?' With a finger slipped through the ring at the end of the string she took it from tiptoe to collapse on the edge of the dashboard. 'It's for Roger. I thought if the talk flagged I could walk it across the table.' Connal gave it a sidewards glance. 'Does the talk flag?' It didn't exactly flash when she was with Roger, but it didn't often flag, it mostly meandered. She said, 'Not often. I must phone and explain that I'll be late. Could we stop somewhere when we're a bit nearer home?' At about six o'clock he stopped outside a phone box in a Gloucestershire village and said, 'You do your phoning and I'll see if that garage is open.' She read 'The Old Forge Garage,' and asked, 'Do we need petrol?' 'The temperature gauge has just started to play up.' Jill had no idea which was the temperature gauge among all those dials. 'What does that mean?' He shrugged, 'It usually means no good.' 'Oh!' And she shouldn't have taken her shoes off. Of course her feet had swollen and the new shoes she had bought would be even less easy than the old. She winced, working her toes back into what felt

like tight little traps, and said, 'I suppose there isn't a stream around that I could paddle in while I wait? I walked miles today.' 'You'll have to go barefoot if Sherman wants to take you dancing.' She pretended horror. 'Folk don't dance barefoot in our town!' Connal reached across to open the door for her and said quietly, 'It wouldn't be the first time you'd had them gasping.' He had not forgotten. She went into the phone box and tried to get Roger. This time she got his father and the information they weren't expecting Roger home until late, so it seemed he must be going straight to Sweet Orchard. Sweet Orchard's number rang engaged, but she went on trying, putting down the receiver and re-dialling, until she saw Connal walking across the road from the garage. Then she opened the kiosk door and waited to hear what he had to say. He said, 'The blacksmith's checking.' 'The blacksmith?' 'He says it's thirty years since he went over to combustion engines, so he should know his way around them by now. Did you make your call?' 'The number's engaged.' 'How are your feet?' That sounded very unglamorous. She said, 'They've adapted, but I'm not taking my shoes off again until I get them home.' 'If you can walk fifty yards there's a hotel. You could wait there more comfortably than in a phone kiosk.'

It was on the main road, and must have been a coaching inn when the blacksmith's forebears were shoeing horses. Through an arched gateway the house was built around a courtyard of cobbled stones. Latticed windows gleamed bright and the shapes of old roofs and old chimneys were silhouetted darkly against the skyline. The high ceiling of the entrance hall was supported by black beams, a carved staircase rose to a gallery, and a stone fireplace filled one wall. Logs burned. The scent of wood- smoke mellowed the air, and a golden labrador lay full length on the flagstones, raising his head as they walked in. It was early evening and autumn, they almost had the place to themselves, and Jill sipped a drink and watched the logs burn, then petted the dog while Connal went back to the forge to see what the blacksmith was making of the car. There was no point phoning home until she knew how late she would be. If it was going to be a long job they might have to stay and have a meal here. She picked up a menu and was reading it when Connal walked in. He said, 'What are they offering?' 'This,' pointing to the menu. 'It sounds good.' 'Well, we're here for dinner. And for breakfast.' 'As bad as that?' With another man she might have been suspicious, but with Connal this was certainly not the planned prelude to a pass. He sat down. 'It's the water pump. He can get a replacement in the morning, but not tonight, I'm sorry.' Roger was not going to like it, but it was no one's fault and making a fuss would change nothing. Water pumps- whatever they were— could apparently break down in the best of cars. Jill looked around and smiled, 'We're lucky where we've landed.'

There was no difficulty booking a couple of single rooms. Jill went upstairs to freshen up, and phoned home just before seven. This time her mother answered. 'Is Roger there?' Jill asked. 'No, dear.' 'Well, he should be any minute. When he does come would you ask him to ring?' She read out the number, explained where she was and why, and Elinor tutted and said she would also let Joshua know that Jill might be late in the morning. 'Has Danny phoned you?' Jill asked. 'No.' Danny's good news took Elinor's mind off Jill's difficulties. 'Isn't it marvellous? When will he be going?' 'At the end of the week,' said Jill. 'Oh no! So soon?' 'He's taking the place of someone who was taken ill.' Elinor sounded wistful now. 'It's a long way, isn't it? I suppose it would cost a fortune to go out there and see them.' Jill feared so. A few minutes later she told Connal, 'Mother's wondering how she can get to Australia,' and although she smiled she was half in earnest. 'Promise you won't lend her the fare, or we'll never get ourselves solvent so far as you're concerned. I could have to go on typing for ever.' "That could be a grim prospect for you. Fettered to a typewriter.'

They were sitting in a couple of chintz-covered chairs beside the log fire, waiting to be told their meal was ready, the labrador still snoozing at their feet. 'Talking of fetters,' she said, 'would you show me how to get the bracelet off?' 'It's simple.' He held her wrist so that she could follow. 'Press this, and slide that sidewards.' The bracelet fell apart and he clasped it on again. 'Try it.' His fingers were cool and dry and she didn't want him to loose her hand. When he did she caught his hand and asked, 'How did you get this?' and touched the coal-dust scar. He said, 'Shifting rocks in the dark.' 'Why?' 'To get out.' 'After the explosion in the mine?' 'Yes.' She should have said, 'I'm glad you got out,' but she didn't speak because her voice might have trembled. 'I'm glad you got out. Thank God you got out.' She was not sure she could have said it lightly enough. Roger didn't phone. No call came for Miss Manning, and after dinner they went into the public bar and Connal talked with the landlord and the locals, who mostly seemed to be farmers and farmworkers. Jill was tired. She rested her head against the high corner of the settle and all the faces swam and blurred and the voices blurred with

them, and at last she yawned and said, 'I'll have to go to my room, I'm shattered.' She left the bracelet on until she was in bed, and then she had to spend a minute or two before she could get the right combination of pressure to release it. She put it on her bedside table and looked for it as soon as she woke. It was going to bring her luck, she decided. They were lucky enough with the car. It was waiting for them by the time they had finished breakfast, and Jill was back in the shop by mid-morning. Joshua had heard Danny's news. Elinor had told him with smiles and sighs. Sighs because Australia was a long way, and Joshua had had to point out that Danny wasn't emigrating and eight months was not a lifetime. Jill agreed, although she agreed with her mother too. It would be strange, Danny on the other side of the world. 'But how fortunate it is, 'said Joshua, 'that Mr. Craig is at Sweet Orchard.' 'Connal hardly takes Danny's place,' Jill protested. 'Dear me, no,' said Joshua, and wondered if he should prepare Jill for Friday evening. But the thought was fleeting. Elinor had warned him not to tell Jill, and the reasons were sound. Jill waited for an empty shop before she phoned Roger to apologise. She rang his office and got a tirade that made her glad the shop was empty. It must be audible the other side of the shelves. She hadn't expected such lung power. She said meekly when he stopped for breath, 'The car really did break down. Ask Connal.' 'I have asked him. I phoned your house a few minutes ago and got him. "You're back, then,"-I said. "I suppose Jill is too? She did say

she'd be back this morning, but then she said she'd be back last night, didn't she?" ' The sarcasm couldn't have been heavier. 'And he said,' said Roger, sounding in danger of bursting a blood vessel, ' "Don't bank on it next time. Jill's the girl who can always change her mind".' She couldn't take it in. 'And he should know,' raged Roger. 'But not with me. You'll never leave me standing again!' He banged down the receiver, leaving her so bewildered that she found herself saying foggily to the dialling tone, 'What did Connal say?'

CHAPTER NINE JILL went straight up to Connal's apartment. Her mother didn't seem to be in, the house felt empty downstairs, although she looked in no rooms and didn't call. She knocked on the door and Connal's 'Come in' sounded abstracted. He was working at the typewriter. 'Yes?' he said tersely. 'Can you spare a couple of minutes?' 'Yes?' It was important to her. 'You let Roger think we didn't come back last night because I didn't want to come back. He doesn't believe the car broke down.' 'Oh, God!' he clapped a hand to his forehead. 'I was busy, the damn phone kept ringing, and when I answered it I got that fool bawling his head off.' 'Roger is not a fool!' ' 'You're right,' agreed Connal. 'I am. I shouldn't have lost my temper with him.' She appreciated that Roger's phone call had disturbed him and that he was not the man to stand bluster, but he had made things very awkward. She said, 'It wouldn't have been so bad if it had just kept us on the houseboat, but as we had to stop overnight at an out-ofthe-way hotel the last thing I want is anyone thinking we planned it.' 'I can understand that,' said Connal gravely. To him the whole thing must be slightly ridiculous although he was trying not to smile. Her cheeks flamed, but she finished what she

was saying, although a little shrilly, 'For goodness' sake, of course we had separate rooms!' 'Of course.' He reached into his pocket and brought out his wallet. 'There's the hotel bill. You could show him that.' It was too late. Nothing would convince Roger now that she was not still involved with Connal. She said, 'A piece of paper isn't going to impress him after what you said.' The suspicion must have been there before. Certainly the jealousy was. Roger resented Connal and he was afraid of that kind of competition. The irony was that Connal was nobody's rival. He said now, 'What do you want me to do? I'll apologise to him if you like. Assure him nobody planned the breakdown and nobody profited from it. Except the blacksmith and the landlord,' She said quietly, 'You could tell him you could be marooned with me for ten years on a desert island without wanting to lay a hand on me.' He must remember saying that. He said as quietly, 'I could tell him that.' 'I don't think so,' she said. 'I think I'll just have to accept it's Flyaway-Roger-fly-away-Paul.' Pleading and protesting were going to leave her with no shred of pride, and Roger didn't matter that much. She could live without Roger. She said, 'One thing, though,' and fumbled with the bracelet, fingers a little unsteady and getting clumsier because Connal was smiling as the trick of the right pressure on the right point eluded her.

She held out her arm. 'Please get this off. I don't think I should be walking around today wearing expensive presents.' He took it off. 'Now do you feel less compromised?' 'This isn't funny.' 'Not in the least.' It wasn't important either, to him, and he was busy. He looked at the papers on the desk and Jill said, 'Sorry I disturbed you.' Before she got out of the room she heard him typing again. She didn't go downstairs right away, but went to her own room first, and sat on the bed and gripped her hands together tightly. Now Roger had gone. It wasn't too catastrophic that Roger had gone. Don Ricketts had said he would call in the shop on Wednesday and asked her what she was doing in the evening. But she wouldn't see him again because Connal had come across to their table. That didn't matter either. Neither of them mattered alone, any more than Paul had done, but together they were a warning how Connal was taking over her life. Of course it wasn't deliberate policy. What Connal felt for her was cool... The only thing I would hate is getting emotionally involved with you again, and that is never likely to happen ... I give you my word...' She didn't believe it was to save his pride either nor to square accounts. But facts were that Connal Craig dominated. While she was with him he certainly kept the rest away. This was her home, he was the tenant, the temporary one, and he would leave one day. But in the meantime, if she was going to have any separate existence at all, she must get out of his shadow.

As she came down into the hall her mother came from the kitchen and goggled at her. 'Hello, darling—you are early.' 'This isn't my lunch hour, I came to see Connal about something.' 'Isn't he in?' Elinor glanced upwards. 'Yes, he's in.' 'Good.' Elinor presumed the 'something' had been dealt with. 'Danny's coming on Friday.' She did her sad smile. 'He'll only have the one evening at home, they go on Saturday, but I suppose it's better than nothing.' 'Much better than nothing,' said Jill. 'Mother, don't let's ask a lot of people round, let's have a quiet family get- together as it's Danny's last night here for a while.' 'I wasn't going to ask anyone.' Elinor sounded as though nothing had been further from her mind. 'Except Joshua and Connal, of course.' Uncle Josh, of course, but Jill heard herself objecting, 'Connal isn't family,' and her mother looked a little shocked. 'He does live here. He is a family friend.' 'Yes,' said Jill. 'He lives here.' At the shop Joshua was chatting with an old customer, and Jill went back to tidying the shelves. A lot of books were out of place. Most of the customers yesterday must have taken down a book, then wandered around and changed their minds about buying. When his customer left Joshua came looking for her. She was on her knees with a small pile of books for the bottom shelf. She slotted a couple in and asked, 'Did they run amok? We're in a right old jumble.'

He was resigned. 'No one ever seems to put them back where they find them. You saw your mother just now?' Jill hadn't said why she wanted to go home. Joshua had been in the storeroom when she rang Roger; she had gone in to Joshua and asked, 'Could I run home for a moment? I won't be long. I'll finish the shelves when I get back.' Now she said, 'Yes. Danny's coming on Friday, he leaves on Saturday.' Joshua knew that. Danny had phoned late last night, Joshua had been at Sweet Orchard at the time. But he still seemed to be waiting, as though there was something else to say, and Jill looked up at him. Surely he wasn't wondering whether last night's breakdown had been a put-up job, but now it seemed to her that he had been preoccupied this morning. Even when he was thanking her for the cigars and saying how splendid Danny's news was he hadn't sounded carefree. She asked, 'What's the matter?' 'Matter?' Joshua jumped as if stung. 'What should be the matter?' 'I don't know, love, I'm asking you. You look as if you'd got something on your mind.' 'No,' said Joshua promptly. 'Oh dear me, no.' He went back to the desk and a letter from someone who wanted to sell their late grandfather's library and hoped that Joshua Aslett would make a good offer. Joshua picked up the letter and said, 'Perhaps you'd better go over tomorrow.' The house was in a village about ten miles away. 'All right,' said Jill. She couldn't make a firm offer, but she could make a fair assessment, and they could proceed from there.

'Perhaps Mr. Craig will take you,' Joshua suggested. 'Mr. Craig's busy,' said Jill. 'He told me that any time there were books for sale he would be interested and glad to take you along,' said Joshua. 'Not this time,' said Jill. There had been a time when Jill could get a lift from any number of folk. Now it was Connal or public transport. She said wearily, 'Uncle Josh, you're not matchmaking, are you?' 'No,' he said, and with even more fervour, 'No!' 'All right then, I don't want to go with Connal. Like Harriet said, I'm seeing rather too much of him.' 'Indeed?' A less courteous man would have said, 'Interfering old baggage.' Joshua said testily. 'There are times when I understand your mother's attitude to Harriet. She may be a good-hearted woman, but she sadly lacks sensitivity.' 'Because she doesn't like Connal?' Joshua looked severe. 'How much has she seen of him? How can her judgment be anything but superficial?' He was anxious to be fair. 'Before he took me into his confidence I was wary of him myself, but now -' 'Now you like him?' said Jill. 'Now you trust him?' 'Yes, I do.' Joshua took his stand. 'I find that he and I have much in common.' He collects old books too, thought Jill, and that's about all you have in common. She said gently, 'And what did he say when he let you into his confidence?'

Joshua had rarely spoken of that Friday to Jill since she came home, but he told her now, 'Among other things he asked me to reassure you that what happened at the register office was a closed chapter.' She bit her lip. 'Maybe the chapter's closed, but I don't think he's finished writing the book.' 'What?' said Joshua. She had muttered and he hadn't heard clearly. She said, 'Nothing, love, but if you do want me to go to Brindley I'll catch the bus.' Joshua went along himself that evening, and that evening at Sweet Orchard Jill reported for work at usual. It was as usual: Tab was there, on the chair he seemed to have claimed since Connal moved into these rooms; Connal was there, and the work was there. Tonight they didn't do much talking. She typed, and as always the village claimed her; the characters had become as real to her as anyone she served in the shop or passed in the street. She worked doggedly, but tonight when she got up from the typewriter, having put in a reasonable stint, she said, 'I want to stop.' 'What?' She had interrupted a train of thought, and he almost glared at her. Jill said firmly, 'Danny can pay off the rest that he owes you himself. I want my evenings back, I want my time to myself.' Connal groaned, 'Oh no!' Of course the last thing he- wanted was to have to find another secretary at this stage. She was almost as deep

into the story as he was, as well as being on the premises. He said, 'Is it because of Sherman?' 'In a way. Your car breaking down last night couldn't be helped, but it was my fault I was with you. What did I expect Roger to think? What would you have thought?' Connal shrugged. 1 know what I'd have done. You left an address at seven o'clock. I'd have been there before nine.' That prospect hadn't occurred to her. If it had to Roger he hadn't entertained it. She said, 'He could have given me a lift home.' 'So the man is a fool,' said Connal. She said, 'Never mind about Roger, I'm still resigning. I don't want to have to report to you each night any longer.' 'Any evening you want off you can have.' 'I want them all.' Although what she was going to do with her spare time she did not know. If it was possible she would be in even less social demand now. Roger was indignant enough to tell anyone who would listen. Connal said wryly, 'It's going to land me in a devil of a mess if you quit now.' It would be letting him down, she could see that, and she conceded, 'All right, I'll work out another week, but I do mean it. You'll have to find someone else.' 'Thank you,' he said. She was going to be homesick for the village on the mountain. She was going to miss being with him every evening, but the break must be made and the sooner the better. She said,

'I suppose you wouldn't go away?' 'Leave the house, you mean?' 'Yes.' He looked at her in exasperation. 'How the hell can I at this stage?' Everything settled in. The working routine smoothly established. Why should he disrupt his schedule on her whim? 'No,' she said. He had shifted rocks in the dark, but she was up against the immovable object. She felt an idiot urge to batter with clenched fists. 'I didn't think you would,' she said.

'I see you're in the papers again,' said the manageress of the drycleaners next to the bookshop next morning. Jill gasped, 'What?' 'Haven't you seen it?' The manageress was pleased to be first with the news. 'There's another bit about you and Mr. Craig.' Jill had her key in the lock. She turned it hastily, collected the newspapers from the mat and ignored the mail. Then she shut the shop door behind her, her stomach churning with apprehension. What could anyone have written? They weren't news any more, the story was dead, the marriage would not take place. She leafed through frantically and found it quickly. It was not front page news this time, and there were no photographs. A paragraph on the gossip page said, 'Has Jill Manning, the girl who ran from the register office minutes before she should have married writer Connal Craig, changed her mind again? Or was it matrimony she

objected to and not Mr. Craig? The couple have been inseparable since. In London last weekend Craig said there was no prospect of wedding bells, but he and Miss Manning seemed on very, very friendly terms.' Well, no one was laughing at Connal Craig now. This proved he had not been jilted. But it wasn't true. It gave a completely wrong impression. She took it upstairs and showed it to Joshua, who was finishing his breakfast, and who read it peering over his spectacles. Prefacing comment with his dry little cough, he said, 'What very odd things they do print.' 'Don't they?' said Jill. 'Now do you understand why I must see less of Connal? I shouldn't have gone away last weekend. I should have stayed here where I belong.' She said wildly, 'I might as well be walking around with a label "I belong to Connal Craig", like the man said.' Joshua was bewildered. 'What man?' 'Someone we met,' said Jill. 'I didn't mind Connal's- friends thinking that was the way it was, but I don't want everybody believing it.' She picked up the paper again, demanding, 'Although what else should I expect?' Joshua shook his head slowly and Jill stopped waving the newspaper around. Poor Uncle Josh was looking old again, she shouldn't have rushed up here probably giving him indigestion for the day. She poured him another cup of coffee, and said in quieter and more reasonable tones, 'It says we've been inseparable and we nearly have, and that's what's causing these misunderstandings.' She smiled to reassure him. 'So from now on, somehow, I'm going to see much less of Connal.' Joshua shook his head again. He seemed far from reassured.

Everyone read the newspaper, of course, and Jill felt that Angela was entitled to an explanation. She called in to see Angela on her way home, timing it before the dress shop closed so that Angela was alone. Angela started as she opened the door and let Jill in. 'I don't understand. I thought you wanted to make it up with Roger.' 'I did,' said Jill. 'I did mean to get back last night for my date with him, and that car really did break down.' 'But why did Connal tell Roger you'd changed your mind?' 'Roger shouted and Connal shut him up. Nobody shouts at Connal.' Angela believed that at any rate. She ventured on the next item. 'That piece in the paper this morning -?' 'Another misunderstanding,' sighed Jill. 'There really is nothing going between Connal and me.' 'Then why are you always with him?' asked Angela, doubtful again. 'Because I'm working for him, and because no one else asks me out. He likes me, and maybe I amuse him.' She tried to sound determined. 'But this is the end of it. I'm standing for no more misunderstandings.' 'I do see what you mean,' said Angela, too soft-hearted to mention that Roger's resentment and this morning's press paragraph were going to take a long time living down ...

Jill said, 'What are we going to do about this?' taking the newspaper in to Connal when she got home.

He tossed it into the wastepaper basket. 'Nothing. What's it matter?' 'Why won't anyone believe the truth?' 'That's a deep question. Do you want an answer now?' What did she want? She would write to Jack Nelson tonight, telling him that Danny was coming to his town some time in the next eight months. His last unanswered letter should be around the house somewhere. She wanted a man in her life who was not Connal, even if he was only a pen-friend. She said, 'I don't want to work late tonight. I want to finish before nine.' Her mother was in the drawing room in front of the television when Jill went downstairs just before nine o'clock. 'Come to fetch your suppers?' asked Elinor, eyes still on the screen. Jill usually took up a supper tray to Connal's apartment, but tonight she said, 'No, I've got a letter to write, then I'm having my supper down here.' This was a real change of routine and disturbed Elinor a little. She looked at Jill, missing the last few vital seconds of the play. 'Is Connal coming down for supper?' 'No,' said Jill. 'He's still working. He doesn't want to be disturbed.' On Friday Danny came, and Danny's plans took hilarious precedence over everything. He was still rehearsing his part, not a big one but meaty, and ran through it for them, clowning most of the time. He was good. He was good. Jill laughed and said, 'They don't know what's coming, do they? By the way, I wrote to Jack Nelson.'

'Give me his address,' said Danny. 'I'll contact him. You remember Jack Nelson,' he grinned at Elinor and Joshua, and did a wicked caricature of someone smiling and nodding and falling over the coffee table. 'Everybody's cobber.' Jack had been a friendly soul and a mite clumsy. Elinor giggled girlishly. 'Of course. A very nice boy, and an Australian, of course.' 'He never actually fell over the table,' said Jill. 'He just put his foot in the cake dish.' 'Was that it?' said Danny. 'Well, he should be good for one seat in Sydney. Anyone know anyone else?' He was asking Connal and Connal said, looking at the list of towns, 'I'll give you some numbers.' 'You know a lot of people,' said Jill. 'I've covered a lot of ground,' said Connal. There were two files in the cabinet upstairs: one for the cities, one for places with names like Rum Jungle, Daly Waters, Nimbi Springs. Of course he had been to Australia. Where hadn't he been? And next time he was going to send her a postcard. They were in the drawing room, dinner had been excellent, Elinor had surpassed herself, and now she looked around and said nostalgically, 'Do you realise that the last time we were all here together was the first night Connal came?' Jill had been remembering ... She had been so bewitched that night that she had almost believed she could talk to Connal and no one else would hear. She hadn't known a thing about him, but she had said, 'Welcome home,' when he smiled at her.

He looked at her now without smiling and Elinor said, 'Danny and Jill—I want to ask your advice.' 'Ask away, my old darling,' said Danny. Connal was still watching her and Jill thought—I know you better now. I know that the edge you put on living could cut my heart into ribbons and I shall not be safe until you are gone. Elinor said softly, 'Connal wants to buy Sweet Orchard.' Jill shouted, 'No!' But she must have whispered, because no one took any notice and Danny said, 'He does?' and asked Connal, 'Why?' Connal said, 'As an investment. These days property keeps its value more than most things.' 'But you didn't want to sell.' Danny turned to his mother. 'Wasn't that what all the fuss was about?' As soon as Jill had got her breath she had been going to say that. They could have sold months ago.. Elinor explained patiently, as though everyone was missing the obvious, 'Selling to Connal won't be like selling to a stranger. He'll let us stay here, he won't change anything. It will just mean that the house is in his name.' She smiled beatifically. 'And we won't have to worry about tiresome things like the roof or the rates, and we shall have some money.' She told them how much, producing the figure with a flourish like a rabbit out of a hat, and waiting for applause. 'Sounds good,' said Danny. 'No,' said Jill.

They heard her this time and Joshua asked mildly, 'Why not, Jilly?' Uncle Josh had known. That was why he had been looking so secretive these last few days. He had known what was brewing, waiting till Danny came. She said accusingly, 'You could have warned me.' 'I told you about the reception bills,' Joshua reminded her. 'You are somewhat inclined to fly off the handle.' 'Did you, Joshua?' Elinor murmured. Connal said, 'I'll guarantee to leave things as they are. I only need the rooms I have and the rent would be nominal.' He hadn't said a word about this either. Not even when she'd asked him to go away. He'd waited, and let Elinor break the news when Danny came, and now they were all on his side. That's generous,' said Jill. 'No.' She was the only one standing. She didn't know when she had jumped to her feet, but she was standing in front of Connal. Danny said, 'Hold on, Jilly, let's think about this. What's the alternative?' He answered himself, 'Unless Connal stays the house will have to be sold eventually, or you'll have to find yourselves another tenant. And overheads are always a problem in a property this old.' A never-ending problem and this was an ideal solution, but it would make Connal literally the man in possession. Sweet Orchard belonging to him, everything belonging to him... Her mother said, 'Exactly', pleased with Danny's neat summing up, and Jill said,

'You asked my advice, Mother, as well as Danny's; well, I don't want to live here paying Connal a nominal rent. And how do we know we won't get thrown out some day? How can we be sure things will be left as they are?' 'Your solicitors would handle that,' said Connal. Jill laughed, 'And our solicitor is an old dear, but I'm sure there are smarter lawyers and you know a lot of people.' He looked at her, mouth hard, eyes narrowed, and she said so softly that it sounded venomous, 'I don't know that I trust you.' 'Jill!' Elinor jerked straighter in her chair, 'that's a dreadful thing to say. I'm sure you don't mean that.' Jill was no longer sure of anything, except that she did not want Connal to buy this house. She rounded on Danny. 'You've changed your mind, haven't you? You don't believe any more that after what I did Connal could be our enemy?' Danny almost squirmed with embarrassment. 'We were all a bit upset, love, it was a pretty bad scene.' Connal got up there. He said coldly, 'Let's forget it. I didn't realise you had such strong feelings against selling.' don't be childish,' her mother shrilled. Jill said, 'I'm sorry. The whole idea came as a bit of a shock. Let me know what the conference decides.' She didn't run this time. She walked, and closed the door quietly behind her. Tab was stretched out at the top of the stairs, waiting for Connal, and Jill went upstairs and sat down beside the cat and began to stroke it. 'He's taken you over too, hasn't he? If I move out will you come with me?' Tab purred under the caress and Jill smiled shakily, 'I wouldn't like to put you to the test!'

It was Danny who followed; she was glad it wasn't Connal. He took the stair just below her to sit on and grinned up at her. 'All right. Let's look at it calmly, shall we?' She was calm now. She said, 'You're for selling?' 'The price is very fair and there would be a contract covering everything.' 'But Sweet Orchard would belong to Connal?' 'Why not? Who cares whose name's on the deeds? He's been a good friend to me.' When she began to say, 'I know -' Danny went on, 'Not just the money but this job. It was Connal who suggested me when Alec Foster was taken ill.' No wonder Danny was grateful, that had been very friendly of Connal, but she still had this helpless, hopeless feeling. Her hand lay heavy on Tab's head and the cat flicked an irritated whisker as the stroking stopped. Her heart was heavier, she said, 'I'm being stupid. It's just that all roads seem to lead to Connal.' 'Jilly -' she guessed what Danny was going to ask, 'is there -?' 'No.' She said it crisply, and managed to smile. 'Don't believe all you read in the papers.' She went on smiling with an effort. 'How about me emigrating? How about Australia?' Danny's grin was relieved. 'Why not? I'll check how Jack Nelson's weathered the last twelve months and let you know,' They laughed together, like old times. She must not spoil Danny's last night here, but when she tried to think of Jack Nelson she could only see Connal. All roads led to Connal.. . ***

Danny left Sweet Orchard early next morning. Connal took him and Elinor to the nearest railway station, and Jill waved them goodbye from the house. Elinor was going on with Danny to Heathrow airport, and then staying the night and perhaps a day or two with friends in Petts Wood. Jill's outburst last night, combined with the prospect of losing Danny for all those months, had left Elinor feeling fragile and the friends would cosset her. Joshua also thought that Jill had not behaved well. He felt she had no grounds at all for suggesting that Connal's offer to buy Sweet Orchard could be sharp practice, and Connal had excused himself soon afterwards and Joshua was not sure now whether the offer still stood or not. He would have been delighted to see the Georgian house become another man's responsibility, so long as the Mannings' interests were protected, and what more could anyone be asking than Connal Craig was offering? When Joshua emerged bleary-eyed from his bathroom to his living room he smelled coffee and saw Jill preparing breakfast. She gave him a diffident smile as he blinked at her. She said, 'They've all gone. I thought I might as well come along to the shop.' She could not have been at Sweet Orchard when Connal returned. She was feeling very low, even Danny had gone now, and Connal's was the only shoulder left to cry on. But he was going to dry no tears for her, so she had kept out of his way and arrived early at the shop. What was more, she was not going back until her mother came home again. There might be separate establishments in Sweet

Orchard, but they were under one roof, and if the misunderstandings were ever going to end she must keep dear of Connal. She said, 'It's a lovely day for flying. Isn't Danny lucky?' 'Very fortunate,' said Joshua. Jill was grilling bacon and after last night's rich meal he did not fancy a cooked breakfast, but it was too late now to stop her. She said, 'Connal helped him get the job. Did you know that?' 'No.' 'Danny told me.' 'Speaking of Mr. Craig,' said Joshua, 'was anything further said this morning about selling the house?' 'Not that I heard,' said Jill. 'Not by me.' 'You,' said Joshua with unaccustomed severity, 'said more than enough last night.' Jill was his dearest girl, but he had been disappointed in her. He hoped this morning would find her in a less mulish frame of mind and settled himself at the table for a quiet talk. He began, 'You were very unreasonable, Jilly.' 'Yes.' 'What reason could you have had—except perhaps pique that your mother waited until Danny was home before she discussed her plans with you.?' 'No!' said Jill.

'Then what are your reasons for not wanting Mr. Craig to buy Sweet Orchard?' Joshua was gently persistent and suddenly she understood her reasons. If Connal bought Sweet Orchard he would come back again and again, over the years. The house would be his home, his base, his point of continuing return. Once he had said, 'I am not in love with you, and if I thought there was the remotest risk I'd put the Atlantic between us.' So for him there was no risk, now or ever. The risk was Jill's, and it was more than a risk, it was certain; she couldn't see beyond Connal, and there was no place left to run. She said, 'I don't know,' and Joshua took the bacon from under the grill. 'A very unreasonable attitude,' he repeated, and relented because her face was white, sat her down and poured her coffee, and tried to eat the slightly burned bacon. Jill didn't drink her coffee; she played with the spoon for a few moments, then said brightly, 'I've been thinking I might go down to Harriet's tonight. I could have a couple of nights there, couldn't I?' 'Well—yes -' said Joshua, aware of looming problems with which he could not start to cope. 'Harriet will be pleased to see you.' 'If I could leave around five,' said Jill. 'I brought a weekend case.' When she had phoned earlier to say that she was facing a weekend on her own and could she come down Harriet had said, 'You get a taxi from the station and I'll have the supper ready.'

She had asked no questions. Nor would she. Dauntingly outspoken at times, Harriet Aslett knew better than most when to be quiet, and she was the only one whose company Jill could have tolerated right now ... It was dark when the taxi reached the cottage. The windows glowed, the lamps were lit, and Jill paid off the driver and knocked on the door, realising now she was here that her head ached and she was very tired. All she wanted was to sink into an armchair by the fire and talk about Danny, and give the messages from Joshua, and ask Harriet what had been happening to her since they had met. Any sort of talk so long as Connal was not mentioned. The door opened, and it was Connal who opened it. For a moment she could neither move nor speak, then she croaked, 'Where's Harriet? What have you done with Harriet?' That sounded insane. He stood aside, and she went in dropping her small case, and he said, 'What do you think I've done with her, thrown her down the well? She's out and she'll be back.' Jill gulped. 'What are you doing here?' 'Waiting for you.' 'I'm not coming back.' Her voice was shaking and she was shaking. 'I don't know what you think you're doing,' she said. 'I don't know why you fetched me back last time.' 'Don't you?' They had stood in this room and he had said, 'I've come to take you home.' It had been daylight then; it was lamplight now, and he was dark in the shadows.

Jill thought—yes, I know. She asked, 'Was it to show them that I hadn't run far?' 'Show who?' 'The ones who were there.' That day would scald her with shame until she died. 'You said forget it, but you didn't forget it. I saw you when you saw my wedding dress again. You remembered everyone staring and whispering, all your friends ... everyone ...' She saw his face as she had seen it in the mirror at Sweet Orchard, the lines as deep and harsh. He said, 'I remember you looking at me as though I was your executioner. I saw nobody else,' and before the expression faded she knew that it had been anguish, not anger. She said huskily, 'You—cared?' 'Don't say you're sorry again.' He sounded sick of hearing it. 'It was my fault, I should have given you more time, I knew you were panicking, but I thought you'd go through with it. Then we'd have got away and it would have been all right. I was wrong, you ran.' He almost smiled. 'I've played it cooler since.' The table was laid for three. Harriet must have asked him to stay for a meal, although what else could she do, even with a self-invited guest? It had been a cool cheek coming here, for Harriet didn't trust him. He was always cool. Since that day there had been no crack in his armour. He would never again ask her to marry him. As Danny had said, she bad called it off for ever. Jill said, 'Why are you here?' 'I'm buying Sweet Orchard.' She sat down at the table; it was easier than standing. 'You came down here to tell me that?' Uncle Josh must have told him where she

was. Didn't they realise that Danny's approval was enough, her mother would sell him the house? There had been no need for Connal to chase down here for Jill's support too. He said, 'I'll change nothing. It will still be your home.' She said thank you, nicely like a well brought up child. Without looking at him she reached for the cottage loaf on the breadboard and cut a crust and buttered it. She ought to be hungry, she hadn't eaten all day, but she wasn't. She said, 'I'm sorry I suggested you might throw us all out.' That had not been good manners. That had been a badly brought up child. He spoke quietly. 'I'm buying it so you can't throw me out.' 'You like the place that much ?' 'You live there, so that's where I am.' Jill swung round in her chair, holding the buttered crust. 'You want to stay—because of me?' 'Of course.' She stammered, 'But you said—if there was a risk of getting involved with me again—you said -' Connal shrugged. 'I'd have said anything. You'd just made it plain you didn't want to marry me, I'd have been a fool to have said I wasn't letting you go.' She put the bread and butter on a plate. He had not let her go. Everything seemed to come back or centre round Connal. She was dependent on him, she needed him. And he could have done all this

to save his pride, not because of any tenderness for her. And it was deliberate. Don Ricketts ... Roger...? She asked through stiff lips, 'Did the car really break down?' 'No.' 'What if Roger had come to fetch me?' 'He wouldn't have got you.' She was beginning to be scared. She whispered, 'You even helped Danny get a job on the other side of the world. You've left me with no one.' 'He needed the job,' said Connal. 'You can phone him.' He smiled. 'But if you fly out to Sydney I go too.' Jack Nelson wouldn't stand much chance. No man she knew would stand a chance. None of them could play it cooler or tougher than Connal. Only Harriet had not trusted him. She asked, 'How did you get Harriet to walk out and leave you here?' 'I told her the truth.' 'What did she say?' 'Now tell Jilly.' She leaned towards him, fingertips gripping the chair back until they whitened. 'So now you're telling me you're not letting me get away. I still think I could, but it would be harder now because you have taken over'... It would not only be harder, it would be impossible ... She said, 'Tell me why? Is it your pride?'

He pulled her to her feet and turned her to face him. He said hoarsely, 'I've got no pride where you're concerned. I would do anything to keep you. Anything.' She breathed, 'Why?' 'Because I love you. I always have. I always will. And one day you will marry me.' He released her as suddenly, and his voice was almost calm again. 'Harriet left a note.' An envelope was on the table. Somehow she opened it and read Harriet's scrawled line. 'I believe him, Jilly. I think you'd better.' She handed it to Connal. He glanced at it, then put it down. He said, 'You had.' 'Where's my ring?' she said. His lips smiled, and slowly his eyes. 'It's in a drawer at Sweet Orchard.' 'My bracelet?' He took that from his pocket and she held her hand towards him. He reached for her and she slid inside his arms, and before he could speak she brushed his mouth with her lips, and while he kissed her mouth, her eyes, her hair, she whispered through tears, 'Welcome home, my love...'