Dear Tyrant

DEAR TYRANT Henrietta Reid

When Mike Kendall let her down, Helen felt she had to get away from everything and try to recover-and the job as secretary to l\/lax Renton looked like filling the bill. "lt might be interesting", she said to herself, "to show Mr. Renton that there's at least one female in the world who's not ready to jump to his bidding!" Indeed the combination of Max's stimulating attitude, and the peace and beauty of the Kent countryside, did their work well, and Helen began to feel her old self again.

CHAPTER ONE AT that time of the year there were not many people in the winding, old-world streets of Medhurst. The summer season had not yet begun, but soon tourists would crowd the small souvenir shops and gaze in admiration at the beautifully preserved lath-andplaster Elizabethan buildings. The anxiety Helen Carrington had felt in the train from London seemed to melt in the warm clear air that held the scent of cosy flower-crammed cottage gardens, and sundrenched pastures. After all, she told herself consolingly, she hadn't done anything very dreadful! Well, perhaps she had not stated the whole truth when she had answered the advertisement! But after all, surely any girl who really tried could be a waitress! Even without experience, she was quite capable of taking on the job and making a success of it! At least, that was what she had told herself when she had first discovered that she was not the only girl in Mike Kendall's life! She had felt a feverish urge to get away from London and find refuge in some corner of the countryside. She had seen Mrs Jarvis's advertisement and it had appealed to her immediately. Medhurst was one of those delightful English country towns one sees in picture-postcards, and the Golden Galleon Inn had sounded nooksy and old-world. And after all, Mrs Jarvis only wanted an assistant waitress for the summer season! When she had recovered from the shock of discovering that Suzanne, her best friend, had quietly and coldbloodedly robbed her of Mike Kendall, she would be able to return to London and take up her life again, Helen told herself.

She took a taxi from the station, but as she drove through the pretty town there was a coldness at her heart as she remembered. Suzanne Dawes had been the first friend Helen had made when she had come up from Worcestershire to take a secretarial course. It was Suzanne who had suggested they should share a flat, and Helen had eagerly agreed. Suzanne had been such a happy, extrovert sort of person, who didn't take life particularly seriously, and Helen, who saw herself as rather solemn, had hoped that some of Suzanne's gaiety would rub off on her. They had settled into the tiny flat happily enough, and suddenly life had become exciting. Suzanne was always thinking up the most outlandish excuses for throwing a party, and very often the small rooms had seemed to be bursting at the seams, and throbbing with the latest pop music. Sometimes Helen hadn't altogether liked the people her friend had brought home. But Suzanne had laughed away her objections. 'Oh, you're an old stick-in-the-mud,' she would say. And Helen, who hated being thought old- fashioned, had held her tongue. Suzanne had the ability to fall in and out of love with amazing rapidity, and Helen, who was much more cautious when it came to giving her heart, was inclined to feel quietly superior—that was, of course, until she herself had fallen hopelessly in love with Mike Kendall! It had happened at the end of their course. Helen had got high marks: her speeds in shorthand and typing were excellent, and she had done pretty well too in the bookkeeping exam. On the day the results were announced she had felt she had earned a bit of relaxation and had joined a few of the girls who were going that evening to a disco.

Suzanne had not done so well in the exams, although she had scraped through, but it had been typical of her that she hadn't let the results depress her. She had had a date that evening, and she had kept it. So Helen had been more or less on her own when she had met Mike Kendall. He was apprenticed to a famous firm of interior decorators and was attending art classes in the evenings, because, as he had explained to her, he was ambitious and wanted to be at the very top of the tree in his chosen profession. He was tall and goodlooking, with a dry suave sense of humour that Helen had found fascinating. He had seemed to her very much the man of the world. His job often took him into the homes of the famous and. notorious and she had listened fascinated as he had told her of the beauty of the rooms—and had amused her with snippets of gossip about their private lives. Helen had not thought there would be any further meetings. It was a little to her surprise that she found that Mike seemed keen to carry on the friendship. Shortly, they were meeting frequently, but in the evenings, for both Helen and Suzanne had got fixed up in office jobs. In Mike's company nothing was boring—not even trips to art galleries. His enthusiasm was infectious and she found herself enthralled as he discussed painters and sculptors. He knew not only everything about their work, but also everything about their lives—and it was this that fascinated Helen. She felt proud the first time she brought Mike back to the flat and introduced him to Suzanne. It had been clear that Suzanne had

been distinctly impressed, although she had told Helen afterwards that Mike was not the type of man she would fall for. Not that Helen had worried about how Suzanne felt towards Mike! She had been too much head-over-heels in love to imagine that anything could come between them. When it had happened it had been completely unexpected. It had been a Saturday and neither of them had had to get up early for work. The day had begun, as Saturdays usually did, with their discussing their plans for the evening over a leisurely breakfast in the tiny dinette. 'By the way, I'm going to have a very special friend here this afternoon. You'll be a dear and make yourself scarce, won't you?' Suzanne had asked casually. Laughingly Helen had agreed. She would go to the hairdresser, she decided, and follow it up with a leisurely meal. But, like most plans, things just hadn't worked out that way, for Helen discovered she had left her purse behind and she had dashed back to the flat, hoping to arrive before Suzanne's boy-friend put in an appearance. When she had entered the sitting-room she had come to a halt in shocked, blank disbelief at the scene that met her. They were on the sofa together—Suzanne and Mike. Stunned as she was, Helen had noticed that Mike had never kissed her with the same ardour. Wrapped in each other's arms, they had been completely oblivious of her arrival, and it had been only when Helen had given a little muffled exclamation of misery that they had sprung apart—Mike looking hangdogs, but Suzanne amused and faintly malicious. White-faced and heartsick, Helen had turned and rushed blindly from the room.

In the days that follow Helen had felt a fierce determination to make a definite break and to get away from Suzanne and her wild and rackety way of life for ever. Somehow she must learn to put behind her those wonderful hours she had spent with Mike! Somehow she must find some way of forgetting this double betrayal, by the man she loved and by the girl she had looked upon as her best friend! Mrs Jarvis's advertisement couldn't have appeared at a better time. It had seemed the perfect answer. It was true she had hesitated when she had seen that an experienced waitress was required, but so much did she long to get away from the flat that she had persuaded herself that the main qualities needed would probably be endless energy, a good memory, and the ability to deal tactfully with difficult customers. Surely she would be able to give satisfaction ! But as the taxi drew near her destination, Helen felt a niggling anxiety that, after all, this new job might not be plain sailing. Her first glimpse of the Golden Galleon showed that it was every bit as old and quaint as she had expected. The lath-and-plaster walls and bulging bottle-glass leaded windows seemed to lean out over the streets and a stone arch under a casement window led into a cobbled courtyard. In days gone by this had been a famous coaching inn. Mrs Jarvis herself seemed slightly old-world, with her round placid face and air of beaming good-nature. She led Helen into a tiny room behind the reception desk, which obviously served as an office. And in the interview which followed she seemed to take it for granted that Helen had previously worked

as a waitress. And Helen felt decidedly guilty as she realised that Mrs Jarvis was accepting her without the smallest reservation. 'Hubert, my husband, was called away, otherwise he would have seen you himself,' she told Helen. 'I'm afraid he's very particular; no untidy hair-dos: uniforms must be spotless, and he insists on courtesy to the customers at all times. If there's one thing he can't stand it's a sloppy, couldn't-care-less way of attending. You see,' she added with obvious pride, 'the Golden Galleon is the best hotel in Medhurst. People come from miles around to dine here and they expect good cuisine and service.' Helen gave a sigh of relief. It was a good thing Mr Jarvis was absent on business. He would undoubtedly have seen through her evasive answers at once and her new job would have melted away before she had spent as much as one day in it. 'We're not busy at the moment,' Mrs Jarvis was saying, 'but the rush will begin fairly soon. At the moment there's only Jean. You'll be sharing a room with her. She's an old hand and will show you the ropes—that is if you don't rub her up the wrong way,' she added with a smile. As she spoke the door was flung open and a small, middle- aged woman with sandy hair marched in bearing a tray. She plonked it down on top of a filing cabinet and was on the point of marching out again when Mrs Jarvis said placidly, 'Jean, this is Helen Carrington, the girl we were expecting.' Helen found herself being surveyed by the sharp-faced, grimlooking little woman and stirred uneasily under the penetrating gaze. Did Jean guess she had no experience?

Then slowly the grim features creased into a smile. 'Glad to meet you,' Jean announced in a strong Glasgow accent as she shook hands. 'I told Helen you'd take care of her—for the first few days,' Mrs Jarvis said. 'Oh, aye,' Jean returned without enthusiasm. 'It's no easy to find your way around in a new place, right enough!' she added grudgingly, 'so if you need a hand you can let me know.' As Jean turned to leave the room, Mrs Jarvis said, 'Oh, and Jean, could you bring another cup. I'm sure Helen would welcome one after her journey.' With no more than a little grunt of assent, Jean went out. Later on, carrying one of Helen's suitcases, Jean showed her to their quarters at the top of the house. 'These stairs take a bit of getting used to, I can tell you,' she remarked, as she plodded ahead. And Helen, following with a second suitcase, ruefully agreed, for she was discovering that the ancient Tudor building was a warren of twisting passages and narrow time-worn stairways. When they reached the top of the house Jean threw open a door. Two shallow steps led down into a small room. Helen followed and surveyed her new surroundings with curiosity. The narrow room had time-blackened beams and the tiny lozenge-shaped panes of glass only allowed a faint light to filter through. Two small iron beds were tucked under the steeply angled rafters, and the other pieces of rickety furniture had the unmistakable look of having been at some time stored in a dusty old attic.

Jean, however, seemed perfectly satisfied with the accommodation, although something in Helen's expression made her say quickly, 'The bed's quite comfortable—though no doubt you'll find it a mite hard. But everything's spotlessly clean. I'm very peculiar in that way. On the other hand, I'm no what you'd call over-fussy, and I've a feeling you and I will get on very well together. The last girl here was completely handless—a real flibbertygibbet, with nothing in her head but boys. I can tell you Hubert got rid of her in double quick time and I must say I wasn't sorry to see the end of her. I've no time for people who don't pull their weight.' 'Mr Jarvis seems to be rather -' Helen sought for words, 'rather particular,' she concluded. Jean pursed her mouth. 'Aye, you could call him particular, right enough,' she agreed. 'But on the other hand he's no what you might call over-harsh. It's simply that he expects a girl to know her job and get on with it. If she doesn't come up to scratch, out she goes—and quite right too, if you ask me! Aye, Hubert is what you might call hard—but just, if you know what I mean.' Helen felt her heart sink. She went over to the dressing- table and laid down her handbag as she felt a sudden inability to meet Jean's shrewd, penetrating glance. But the little Scotswoman had other things in mind. Already her thoughts were on the duties that lay ahead and when she had told Helen that she would be expected to wear the white nylon coat hanging behind the door, and had reminded her to pin her hair back, she hurried away. Left to herself, Helen took stock of her surroundings.

She crossed the floor to the window and looked out on to the street. Through the tinted window it was as if she was seeing the steeply canted roofs of the old shops and the lath- and-plaster houses through water. The little town looked depressingly quiet, she thought. She had the feeling that life in this famous beautyspot was going to prove dull and monotonous. But she had only herself to blame! She had been determined to get away from her old life, and she had succeeded only too well! Too late, she realised that she had placed herself in an extremely awkward position by not telling Mrs Jarvis the whole truth. She knew also that she must put in an appearance in the dining-room soon. She had the feeling that if she were to linger much longer here in her bedroom, Jean's remarks when she eventually plucked up courage to go down would be extremely peppery. She crossed to the rickety dressing-table and brushed her hair until the red highlights gleamed: she applied a light touch of lipstick. The white nylon coat didn't fit her, she noticed: it had obviously been intended for someone more hefty; probably it had been used by the flibbertygibbet of whom Jean had spoken so scathingly! To hide the fact that it was several sizes too large, Helen searched in her cases for a broad leather belt. She fastened it tightly around her waist and rolled the sleeves above her elbows. When she went downstairs she found Mrs Jarvis bustling about among steaming pots and pans. She looked up as Helen came in. 'There are not many here yet! Only a table of regulars and one or two casuals,' she remarked. In a moment or two Jean erupted into the kitchen and in no time Helen found herself scuttling between kitchen and dining room, doing her best to keep up with the pace set by Jean.

To her relief she made no very bad blunders. The 'regulars' turned out to be good-natured and bore her slight mistakes without complaint. To Helen's relief Jean when she was not actually serving took a lively part in the gossip and with her attention occupied did not notice Helen's slowness. It was when lunch time was nearly over that two women walked into the dining-room and took their places at a table in a corner. And Helen making her way to the kitchen with a laden tray paused for a moment before she pushed her way through the swing doors. There was something that drew her attention to these newcomers. One was elderly with a homely and gentle face: she was expensively, though fussily dressed: a large hat of pink silk petals was placed on a froth of white curls, and her dress of a deeper hue was heavily befrilled. But it was her companion who drew all eyes. She would be about her own age, Helen decided; tall and strikingly beautiful, with smooth, raven-black hair against which her luminous white complexion and scarlet lips stood out dramatically. Helen had the feeling she was well aware of the impression she was making, but she stared ahead, her dark blue eyes remote and faintly disdainful. Mrs Jarvis must have eyes in the back of her head, Helen was thinking. 'Do you know who have just come in?' she said when Helen returned to the kitchen, 'Corina Manville and Mrs Reynolds! Corina is the daughter of Ronald Manville—you may have heard of him.' When Helen shook her head, Mrs Jarvis went on, 'He's the wealthiest person in Medhurst—a tycoon, you could call him, I suppose, with business interests all over the country, and on the

Continent too. Oh dear, I do wish Jean were free,' she continued, peering into the dining-room where Jean was still engaged in attending to her cheerful group of regulars. 'Corina Manville is so hard to please, and Jean is an old hand.' She regarded Helen doubtfully, and Helen knew that her deception had been seen through, as Mrs Jarvis said, 'I do hope you'll be able to manage.' 'I've managed all right, so far,' Helen said defensively. 'Oh, I don't deny you've been doing your best, but it's plain to me that whatever your job was, you've never worked as a waitress before. But we won't go into that just now! You'd better go out and take their order. We must show them that the Golden Galleon can give them as good cuisine as they're likely to get anywhere. It would be wonderful if Corina would begin to come here and to bring her friends. It would make all the difference during quiet times.' Some of Mrs Jarvis's nervousness had rubbed off on Helen and she found her self-confidence ebb away as she approached the table in the corner where Corina Manville and her companion had settled themselves. She waited while Corina studied the huge white menu headed by an embossed golden galleon. Mrs Reynolds had a friendly smile for Helen as she quietly gave her order, but Corina, a slight frown between her smooth dark brows, continued to study the menu. It was clear she had difficulty in finding anything to her taste. When at last she came to a decision, she gave her order without looking up, and with a faintly contemptuous air that Helen found infuriating. Even if she had been rude it wouldn't have been so bad, better at least than being totally ignored!

When she returned to the kitchen there was a slight delay because Mrs Jarvis, flustered and over-eager, was determined to show the wealthy Miss Manville that the Golden Galleon could hold its own with the best hotels. When at last the items were assembled and Helen returned to the table, she was met by Corina's blue, glacial eyes. 'You've been simply ages,' she said, glancing impatiently at her tiny gold watch. 'We haven't all day to take this meal. I have an appointment in an hour and if things go on like this I'll either have to give up lunch or arrive late. But then what could one expect from a seedy little place like this!' she remarked, glancing across at her companion. Mrs Reynolds looked distinctly uncomfortable. 'Oh I don't know,' she said soothingly. 'The service is usually very fast at the Golden Galleon. Mr and Mrs Jarvis run it themselves, you see, and the cooking is really excellent.' Corina shrugged. 'Perhaps! I'll be able to tell you what I think of it when I've sampled it. Don't take all day with the next course, like a good girl!' she added, turning her attention to Helen. Helen turned away abruptly, trying to stifle the words that rose to her lips. If it weren't for Mrs Jarvis she'd tell this arrogant, spoiled girl just what she thought of her! After that things went fairly smoothly, until, at the end of the meal, Corina ordered a raspberry mousse. Mrs Reynolds decided against it, and with a friendly smile confided to Helen that she was doing her best to slim. Feeling almost light-headed at the realisation that the meal was almost at an end, Helen marched back to the table. She had

managed pretty well, she was telling herself. Corina, even if she thought the service was slow, would have to admit that Mrs Jarvis's cooking was superb. Corina gave no sign that she was aware of Helen's arrival. She was leaning forward, deep in conversation with Mrs Reynolds, and as Helen attempted to place the dish before her, she raised her hand in an emphatic gesture. The consequences were disastrous. Some of the pink creamy concoction was jerked upwards and fell upon her buttercup- yellow trouser suit. For a moment there was a shocked silence, then Corina Manville sprang to her feet, her face taut with fury. 'Of all the stupid, clumsy -!' she began shrilly, as she gazed down unbelievingly at her ruined clothes. Helen, numb with shock, was vaguely aware of Mrs Jarvis hurrying forward. She seized a table-napkin and began to rub energetically at the stain, but her efforts served only to spread the pink stickiness over an even wider area. Furious, Corina snatched the napkin from her hand and tossed it to the floor. 'Can't you see you're doing more harm than good?' she grated. 'How you could employ such an incompetent, bungling girl is beyond me!' 'I'm terribly sorry, Miss Manville,' Mrs Jarvis apologised. 'But she's a new girl. She arrived only today and isn't quite into our ways yet.' 'The lunch has been a disaster,' Corina informed her. 'I've never seen such slow, slatternly service in my life!'

As Corina began her tirade Mrs Reynolds had thrown Helen a sympathetic glance, and Helen, aware that every eye in the room was riveted upon them, wished that the floor might open and swallow her. But at this last remark of Corina's her spirits revived. This was unfair, and she said so. 'If you hadn't thrown out your hand, just as I was serving you -' she began, only to be interrupted by Corina. 'You're not suggesting this was my own fault, by any chance?' she demanded. 'If you'd only paid some attention to me, instead of ignoring me as if I didn't exist -' Helen began. 'You're not suggesting that I've been bad-mannered?' Corina asked with dangerous calm. 'You've been rude. Horribly rude,' Helen cried. 'I only hope that if I'm ever in your position I shall never treat anyone as you've treated me!' It was at this point that a small, wiry man came hurrying across the dining-room. 'What's the racket?' he demanded of Mrs Jarvis. 'I could hear ructions going on as I came through the door.' 'Oh—oh, there's been a slight accident, Hubert,' Mrs Jarvis told him. She seemed half pleased, half apprehensive at the unexpected appearance of her husband. 'I'd hardly call this a slight accident,' Corina said sharply. 'It's perfectly clear that this girl hasn't the slightest idea of how to serve at table, and now she has nerve enough to suggest that it was all my own fault. It seems I've been bad-mannered.'

'What?' Hubert Jarvis sounded as if he couldn't credit what he heard. He drew in his breath in a hiss of dismay as he saw the full extent of the damage to Corina's clothes. The glance he cast in Helen's direction was venomous, but it changed to one of humble supplication as he turned to Corina. 'The Golden Galleon will recompense you in full, of course, Miss Manville.' 'I should hope so,' Corina returned coldly, then gathering up her gloves and handbag she strode off across the room, followed by Mrs Reynolds and accompanied by Hubert Jarvis, who kept up a stream of apologies. It was a relief to Helen to be able to follow Mrs Jarvis into the kitchen. Here she was out of sight of the curious eyes which had followed every action in the little drama with avid interest. She felt grateful to Jean, who said nothing, but tactfully made a great business of bustling about her duties. But shortly Hubert joined them in the kitchen, his face red with anger. 'We get your type all the time,' he said furiously. 'Pretending to be what you aren't. One glance, and I could have told!' He turned to his wife exasperatedly. 'I'd have known right away that she was useless. Not only that, but she has the cheek to say Corina Manville was rude to her! Well that's the end of any hope that she'll come here again and bring her crowd with her.' 'It was my fault,' Helen said honestly. 'I didn't tell Mrs Jarvis the truth. Your wife didn't know I hadn't done this sort of work before.' 'Aha, so you deliberately lied!' Hubert Jarvis exclaimed. 'No, not quite,' Helen began.

But before she could utter another word, she was interrupted by him as he said fiercely, 'Get out of here immediately!' Helen stared at him. 'You mean—you mean immediately?' That's exactly what I mean. Now get your things together and clear off.' Helen felt a growing panic as she saw the small eyes glare at her implacably. 'But—but I've nowhere to go!' she protested. 'That's not our concern,' he told her grimly. 'Just a minute, Hubert,' Mrs Jarvis intervened. 'I've some say in this, remember. After all, it was I who hired her.' Her husband looked taken aback, and Helen guessed that he was not used to his wife taking the reins into her own hands. When he attempted to speak again Mrs Jarvis silenced him with an air of quiet authority. 'I agree, of course, she'll have to go, but I'm not putting out any girl, not unless she has a place to go to. You can stay on here for a day or two,' she told Helen, 'until you've found some other place. You'll get a job easily enough in one of the cafés. They're all opening up around now for the summer, and they take on untrained staff—students and the like. And what's more,' she added, casting a defiant glance in her husband's direction, 'I'll give you a good reference, for you're willing and anxious to learn and with a bit of training you'd be quite useful.' It was with heartfelt relief that Helen found herself relegated to the kitchen as general dogsbody. Later on she slipped out and bought a local newspaper at a newsagents in die Main Street. Back in her room she sat on the side of her bed and studied the Situations

Vacant column. It made extremely gloomy reading and, later on, when Jean joined her, she did nothing to lighten her spirits. 'I'm afraid you'll find it hard to get a nice place at this time of year,' she told Helen pessimistically. 'Most of the hotels are fixed up and when the tourists begin to arrive you'd be worked off your feet at one of the cafes in the Main Street. It was a terrible pity you got mixed up with Corina Manville. She's a right besom. Her father spoils her silly; thinks the world should dance attendance on her.' 'I wish I hadn't lost my temper,' Helen said ruefully. 'I've really dished myself completely. Jean's sharp little face crimped into a smile. 'Well, all I can say is, it did my heart good to hear her high-and-mightyness getting ticked off for once in her life.' But it was small consolation for Helen. 'There seems to be nothing but adverts for combine harvesters and pedigree dogs,' she said gloomily. Jean regarded her thoughtfully, then sat down with deliberation. 'Now what about telling me the truth?' she said sternly. 'I kenned fine from the first moment I saw you stacking a tray that you didn't know the first thing about the job.' 'All the same, I did serve from the left,' Helen said, with a weak attempt at a joke. 'And that's about all you did know,' Jean told her crisply. 'What did you really work at? You must have done something—unless, of course, you're a lady of leisure, an heiress to a great fortune and doing this just for the kicks.'

Helen smile ruefully. 'My job was pretty ordinary. I was a shorthand-typist.' Jean gazed at her in surprise. 'Then why on earth arc you not shorthand-typing?' 'Oh, I felt like a change, I suppose, away from the bright lights!' But Jean was unconvinced. 'I expect there's more to it than that, isn't there?' she said shrewdly. Helen nodded. All the pent-up misery she had suffered since she had discovered Mike and Suzanne in each other's arms seemed to overwhelm her. She longed to confide in someone, and Jean, she felt, was a good-hearted and loyal person. 'Sometimes it's good to talk things over,' the little woman said gently. 'Whatever happened, it will do you no good to bottle it up in your heart. I don't suppose I'll be able to help you, but at least I'll be someone to speak it over with. I think that's what you've missed, isn't it?' Helen nodded. And suddenly in a rush of hot, heartbroken words she was telling Jean all. She kept nothing back. Once again she relived—as she had done so often in her own mind—that hideous moment when she had burst into the sitting-room of the flat and had realised that she had been doubly betrayed. When she had finished Jean said nothing for a while, and then she said, 'And now you feel that you'll never fall in love again? That you'll never again allow yourself to care, isn't that it? That's really why you wanted to get away! And this time to be careful of your heart!' 'I'll never let another man make a fool of me,' Helen said fiercely.

'Just as I thought,' Jean pronounced. 'Well, you couldn't do anything more foolish, my girl!' This remark was so unexpected that Helen said tartly, 'You mean I should let myself fall in love again, I suppose?' 'Well, perhaps not at present, but you should leave your heart open so that when the right man comes along there will be no bitterness.' 'Never again!' Helen told her. 'Even if I do fall in love again I'll take care not to let him know it.' 'You think you're the first girl who has ever come up against this heartbreak,' Jean said quietly. 'You're not the only girl in the world who gave her whole heart to a man. It happened to me too, you know.' She gave a little self-deprecating laugh, as she saw Helen's look of surprise. 'Oh, I know it's hard to believe now, but I was quite pretty when I was young and, like you, when I fell it was wholeheartedly. I trusted him completely. But in my case it was different. You see, I found out he had been married for years: he had a wife and children tucked away safely in the background. Well, like you, I built up a wall of bitterness. I made up my mind I'd be suspicious of any man who showed the smallest interest in me, so that when someone I could have loved came into my life, I turned him down. I flung aside my chance of happiness because I wouldn't put my bitterness aside. When all I had to do was to reach out for love: it was there for the taking.' But Jean's words were wasted on Helen. 'Don't let's talk about it any more,' she said. 'The past is past. Now I want to start afresh, and the best way I can do it is by getting a different type of job in a completely different place.'

Jean sighed resignedly. 'All right! I know people never learn from other people's mistakes. I'm wasting my time. But if you are determined to stay here, why don't you look for a job in your own line of country? There are sure to be some ads in the Office Workers column. Medhurst isn't such a backwater as you think. There's probably someone just waiting to snap you up.' There was something infectious about Jean's enthusiasm, and Helen picked up the paper again. The first advertisement that met her eye at the top of the column was for a shorthand-typist in an estate manager's office. To her amazement she saw that it concluded, 'Applicants must take a genuine interest in their work. Clock-watchers need not apply.' 'Well,' Helen exclaimed, 'Mr Max Renton of Ladyfields Lodge seems to think he's living in the dark ages!' 'Max Renton?' Jean repeated in surprise. 'He manages Ronald Manville's estate out at Ladyfields. They say Corina's sweet on him, but then she's man-mad, if you ask me!' 'I don't know how any girl could be sweet on a man who sounds as horrid as Mr Max Renton,' Helen said acidly. 'Is he really as disagreeable as he sounds, I wonder?' I'm afraid I don't know much about him,' Jean replied. 'They say he's a Canadian, but he hasn't been here very long. But he's not the only fish in the ocean. There must be other people looking for typists. It's plain you wouldn't be happy there. He sounds a bit of an ogre, if you ask me.' But to Jean's surprise, Helen said slowly, 'I don't think I'll look any further.'

Her face had tightened and there was an ominous glitter in her eye that made Jean glance at her uneasily. 'But why should you take this job if you don't think you'll be happy in it?' 'I'm not looking for happiness at present,' Helen replied dryly. 'But I think it might be interesting to show Mr Renton that there's at least one female in the world who's not ready to jump to his bidding. Where exactly is Lady- fields, Jean, and how do I get to it?' 'Well, if you ask me, I think you're making a big mistake,' Jean said doubtfully. 'How do you know what you're getting yourself into? This Max Renton might be quite a tough proposition, you know!' 'Possibly,' Helen retorted, 'but I feel quite capable of dealing with even the toughest proposition!' 'Oh well, since you're bent on it, there's nothing like striking while the iron is hot,' Jean replied. 'Ladyfields is on the other side of town. You can't miss it. It has big wrought-iron gates and two enormous things that look like pineapples on each pillar.' 'I see he's interviewing applicants this evening! I think I'll go right away and get it over,' Helen told her. She felt exhilarated, as though accepting a challenge. Jean smiled. 'It's clear you don't believe in letting the grass grow under your feet, but if I were you, I'd think twice about it. It seems to me you're biting off more than you can chew in getting mixed up with Max Renton.'

'After all, he can't eat me,' Helen smiled. 'Don't be too sure of that,' Jean said grimly. 'Oh, I may not get the job anyway! But I'll have a good try. Anything would be better than having to face Hubert's scowling face, as I'll have to if I hang on here.' Jean got to her feet. 'I'll push off. I expect you'll want to titivate yourself before bearding the lion in his den.' When she had gone Helen put her mind to the problem of what outfit she would wear for the interview. It was important to look spruce and businesslike. She had the feeling, from the tone of the advertisement, that Max Renton was not the type of man who would take on a girl who turned up for her interview with shoulder-length hair and wearing a granny dress. She tried on. a few outfits before deciding on a crisp frock of cinnamon-coloured linen-finish fabric. She tucked an emerald green scarf into the rather low neckline. When she glanced at her wrist-watch she realised with dismay that she had given herself very little time to get to the other side of the town. From Jean's description of Lady- fields it seemed that it was some distance out of Medhurst. She would take a taxi, she decided. She had seen a taxi- rank directly opposite the railway station. She ran downstairs and as she passed the door of the lounge, Hubert Jarvis came out and favoured her with a scowl, and she hurried out of the Golden Galleon determined to get this job. All her hopes of reaching Lady- fields looking cool and detached were destroyed as she raced along the street in the direction of the station.

As she drew near she saw through the railings enclosing the station yard that a train had drawn in to one of the platforms and that passengers were getting off: at the same moment she realised that there was only one taxi in the rank. She put on an extra spurt of speed. If she didn't reach the taxi in time it would be snapped up. Breathless and with her cheeks flushed, she raced towards it and was actually putting her hand on the door, when a tall, burly figure, briefcase in hand, emerged from the station, crossed the yard with a few rapid strides, and pulled open the opposite door.

CHAPTER TWO HELEN plumped herself down. 'Ladyfields, please, and do hurry,' she told the driver, and then realised that the newcomer had taken his seat at the other side of the taxi and showed every signs of claiming it for himself. The driver surveyed Helen steadily for a moment, then turned to his other passenger, 'Are you two together?' he asked with an air of patient long-suffering. 'We most certainly are not,' Helen said quickly. 'I was here first.' Even as she spoke she realised how childish the words sounded. 'Now there I don't agree,' her companion demurred. 'I should say we arrived neck and neck.' Helen looked at him doubtfully. He could not, by any standard, be considered good-looking, she noted, but his jutting jaw and dark, observant eyes stamped him as a man to be reckoned with. 'I'm quite certain I reached the taxi before you,' she said hotly. 'I'm afraid not,' he returned. 'But don't let's quarrel about it. I have a solution to suggest—that's if you'll simmer down and listen to me.' Helen glared at him, but he seemed completely unaffected by her resentment. 'What I suggest is that we share the taxi. The driver can take you to Ladyfields right away.' 'Well -' Helen considered this.

'Look, miss,' the taxi driver put in exasperatedly, 'why don't you make your mind up and do as the gentleman suggests? There are plenty of fares waiting for me, you know.' He indicated a small group of people who had emerged from the station and who were looking about impatiently for the arrival of taxis. 'Very well,' Helen agreed hastily. She retreated into her corner of the taxi and gazed out at the passing scenery with an air of absorbed interest. But it was almost impossible to ignore the stranger because, for one thing, his burly frame took up so much space, and there was something about his presence that compelled attention. No doubt, Helen told herself acidly, he was the type of man who, when he entered a room, was immediately the focus of all eyes. 'So you're going to Ladyfields!' he remarked conversationally. 'It's a lovely place, isn't it? But perhaps you haven't seen it before?' 'No, I haven't,' Helen admitted. 'But you have.' She regarded him curiously. 'Do you know Mr Max Renton, by any chance?' 'I suppose in a way I do,' he replied slowly. 'I believe he's looking for a shorthand-typist at the moment.' 'Oh!' Helen replied. It was clear that her companion knew Max Renton quite well. This might be a wonderful opportunity to arm herself with some information before the interview began. 'I'm going for an interview,' she vouchsafed. 'And I must say I thought his advertisement was very strangely worded. I didn't know that nowadays there were people who looked upon employees as—as sort of—of serfs,' she concluded weakly.

The dark eyes regarded her steadily. 'But if you've formed a poor opinion of the man, why are you considering working for him?' 'It so happens that I need this job badly,' she admitted. 'You mean you're prepared to put up with a man who you already consider an overbearing despot?' Helen tilted her chin aggressively. 'If I do get the job I certainly shan't let Mr Max Renton bully me, you may be sure, I'm quite well able to take care of myself.' 'I don't doubt it.' He sounded amused and Helen glanced at him suspiciously. Was he laughing at her? she wondered. How foolish she had been, to confide in a total stranger! She turned away her head, feeling annoyed with herself. But now they were driving by high enclosing walls overhung by the thick foliage of ancient trees, and in a moment these gave way in a wide, crescent-shaped sweep. Here high piers were surmounted by what Jean had so aptly described as stone pineapples. So this was the entrance to the Manville estate, Helen thought. The wrought-iron gates stood open, and the taxi swept into the broad drive bordered by tall beech trees. Far ahead, Helen caught a glimpse of a big Georgian mansion, and assumed that this was her destination. 'Better take the turn on the left,' her companion's voice said quietly from the corner of the taxi. And as Helen glanced at him, he went on, 'Surely you didn't think that Ronald Manville's estate manager would be ensconced in the master suite at the main house? No, I'm afraid he lives at the Lodge.'

Helen found that as the taxi took the turn to the left it plunged down into a dense shrubbery of dark bushes, and banks of rhododendron, their blooms already faded. Very shortly they stopped before a two-storied Victorian brickbuilt house with bay windows, set back from the drive and backed by tall conifers and flowering shrubs. When she stepped out of the taxi her companion got out too. Helen glanced at him in surprise. 'You're calling at the Lodge?' she queried. 'Yes indeed! In fact, I live here,' he told her coolly. For a moment she stared at him blankly before the truth dawned. 'Why—why, you're Max Renton!' She was mortified to hear that her voice quavered a little. All too clearly she was remembering the remarks she had made about him in the taxi! He had deliberately led her up the garden path, she was thinking with burning indignation. She turned away and pulled open the door of the taxi. Not for worlds would she work for this man—not that it was likely she would get the job after her uncomplimentary remarks. She was on the point of stepping in when she paused. But could she afford to take such a high-handed course? she was asking herself. Vividly before her mind's eye came the picture of Hubert Jarvis's scowling face. Were she to return to the Golden Galleon now she would be to all intents and purposes living on Mrs Jarvis's charity. The thought was so galling that she drew back. 'Look, lady,' the driver said with exaggerated patience, . 'are you or are you not getting in?'

'I'll settle this,' Max Renton put in. He caught Helen by the arm and pulled her clear of the door. He then paid both their fares and—to judge by the driver's broad grin— added a substantial tip. The taxi pulled away and Helen found herself being marched towards the house. It was clear that Max Renton's return had been eagerly awaited, because the door was pulled open immediately and a middle-aged lady addressed him excitedly. 'Thank heaven you've arrived, Max! Ondine has gone off again! I've been frantic with worry. I'm perfectly sure she's with those dreadful hippies. On the other hand, one can never tell what Ondine's going to do -' She stopped, her eyes on Helen, and it was then that Helen realised that the woman's face was familiar. But on the last occasion they had met she had been wearing a pink petal hat on top of her mop of snowy curls. 'You're the young waitress at the Golden Galleon!' she exclaimed with a smile. 'I know nearly everyone there, but ' although we've already met I still don't know your name.' 'Helen—Helen Carrington.' 'I shall call you Helen,' Mrs Reynolds said decisively. Max looked from one to the other inquiringly. 'What's this, Aunt Alice? Do you two know each other?' 'Yes, indeed we do!' Alice Reynolds replied. 'You see, Corina and I had lunch today at the Golden Galleon and somehow or other Corina got raspberry mousse all over that silk trouser suit she's so fond of. And it was you who did it, wasn't it?' she inquired of Helen mischievously.

Something in Helen's expression must have told her that this was a faux pas, because she immediately added, 'Not that you meant to do it, of course! It was just a horrid accident.' 'This is becoming more and more mystifying,' Max Renton remarked. 'What has this girl got to do with Corina getting raspberry mousse on her trouser suit—even if she is extremely fond of it?' 'Oh, Max, you really are impossible!' Alice Reynolds exclaimed. 'Corina was dreadfully upset. She actually talked of suing the Jarvises for the price of it.' 'That sounds like Corina all right,' Max Renton remarked. 'But I still don't understand this. You mean,' he turned to Helen, 'that you're actually a waitress at the Golden Galleon?' 'I was a waitress,' Helen said emphatically. 'That's not the point,' he replied. 'What I'd like to know is what you're doing here applying for a job as a shorthand- typist. It takes more than the ability to sling raspberry mousses at the customers, you know.' 'But don't you understand,' Alice Reynolds put in placatingly, 'that she didn't really mean it. She was new, you see.' Max Renton ignored this. 'I suggest you and I go into the study and talk this over quietly,' he said to Helen. 'Thanks! But I don't see any point in staying,' she said stiffly. 'Well, I certainly don't intend to let you go until you've explained yourself,' he told her bluntly.

And somehow or other Helen found herself being ushered into a room at the back of the hall. 'Oh, but Max,' Alice Reynolds called, the anxious look returning to her homely face, 'what about Ondine? It really is dreadfully worrying, you know.' He stopped and glanced at his aunt impatiently. 'It isn't the first time this has happened. Surely you're getting used to it by now.' Alice Reynolds took out a small lace-bordered handkerchief and sniffed disconsolately. 'Oh, I know Ondine is difficult, but somehow I can never reconcile myself to her mixing with those awful, rough, dreadful people.' 'They're probably not as awful as you imagine,' Max dismissed the subject. 'Anyway, they'll probably rub some of the raw edges off her and bring her to her senses!' With this, he ushered Helen into a small, book-lined room. 'Now let's get this whole matter cleared up,' he remarked when she had seated herself. 'And first of all, your name, please,' he asked, settling himself behind a large oaken desk. 'Helen Carrington,' she replied. She felt ill at ease. There was something unnerving about his thoughtful regard. 'It seems to me extraordinary that a waitress should apply for a job as a shorthand-typist,' he went on. 'Oh, but I'm a fully trained shorthand-typist,' she put in quickly. 'Then why were you working at the Golden Galleon? Surely a girl with your qualifications would have been able to get a job!'

'I was working in London,' she admitted, 'but I wanted to get away to—to—well, I wanted a change,' she ended feebly. There was a short pause. He drummed his fingers on the desk. 'I'm afraid that's not good enough. If you really want this job, you'll have to give me a more convincing explanation, you know.' It was clear he was not going to be put off with vague excuses. She steeled herself to tell him the whole miserable story. When she had finished she did her best to avoid his eye. What a fool he must think her for weakly leaving the field to Suzanne, instead of standing her ground and fighting for her happiness. She found her gaze fixed on his drumming fingers. His hands, she noticed, were broad and powerful, like the man himself, she thought vaguely. When he did speak, his reply was completely unexpected. 'But surely a pretty girl like yourself could find another boy-friend easily enough! Surely nowadays no girl need suffer from a broken heart, and bury herself in the country'!' 'I shouldn't call working at the Golden Galleon burying myself in the country,' she replied tartly, needled by the unmistakable mockery in his voice. 'And what more, I'm not broken-hearted. It's simply that I wanted to get away and— and think things over quietly.' 'I see,' he nodded. 'Well, if you genuinely want a quiet life, it's all right with me, although I won't guarantee that you'll find it in this household.' 'Shall I be staying here? That is, I mean, if—if you think I'm suitable,' Helen asked. Somehow she hadn't thought of that aspect of the matter.

'There's a fiat over the stables. You'll have it to yourself. You'll probably like it better than -' But to Helen's disappointment he wasn't allowed to finish this tantalising remark. The door opened and Mrs Reynolds entered bearing a laden tray. She smiled at Helen. 'I thought you'd like some refreshment. Max is inclined to put people through the mill, you know.' 'Now you're taking away my character! And you know perfectly well you shouldn't be serving tea in the middle of an interview,' Max told her with pretended severity. Alice Reynolds placed the tray on a low table, then sank into an armchair. 'I really must talk to you, Max. I've had a letter from Eunice this morning. She's planning to join Kim in Zambia for the next three months and she wants us to take the twins off her hands.' 'Oh, does she, indeed!' he said curtly. 'Well, no go! Once bitten, twice shy!' Alice nodded. 'That's exactly how I feel! I've enough to do running the house without being responsible for the twins. They really are a handful, especially Tobin. Jonathan would be quite well-behaved if Tobin didn't continually lead him into mischief. But all this must be double Dutch to you!' she said, turning to Helen. 'Max's sister, Eunice, is married to an engineer. His work takes him to all parts of the world, and she likes to be with him as much as possible. The last time she joined him she left the two boys with us, and they really were a handful.' 'Why she can't stay at home and mind her kids instead of traipsing off to the back of beyond with Kim, I don't know. He's well able to

take care of himself, without her dancing attendance on him,' Max said irritably. Alice smiled as she poured tea into delicate gold and white china cups. 'That's a typical man's remark! It's natural for a woman to want to be by her man's side no matter what the hardships might be. Don't you agree, Helen?' she asked as she handed a cup and saucer. No, she most certainly didn't, Helen told herself fiercely. But they were waiting for her answer. 'I expect it depends on the woman,' she said demurely. 'Some women are so dependent on men!' 'But you're not, of course?' Max said quietly. 'No,' she returned emphatically, 'I most certainly am not!' 'In that case,' he said smoothly, 'you must lead a very placid life.' 'I only wish Ondine's was more placid,' Alice interposed fretfully. 'Oh, I know you think I fuss too much, but she has been away all day, and goodness knows what mischief that dreadful family of drop-outs are getting her into! I know I can confide in you, now that you're going to be one of the family,' she said to Helen. 'How do you know she's going to be one of the family?' Max put in. Alice smiled knowingly. 'I just got that feeling when I came into the room. You know how sensitive I am about these things, Max!' 'Well, let's put your feelings to the test!' He turned to Helen. 'What about it? Are you going to take the job?'

She hesitated. She would dearly have loved to tell him that she hadn't the smallest intention of accepting. But she was practical enough to realise that if she took this particular job all her worries would be disposed of for the time being. 'I suppose I'd better,' she replied without enthusiasm, then couldn't resist adding, 'I promise not to be a clockwatcher.' 'Good!' he replied briskly, ignoring her sarcasm. 'As long as you apply yourself to the job I expect we shall get along quite well.' 'I do hope you're enjoying the cress sandwiches,' Alice remarked placidly. 'Ondine is one of those food faddists and I made them especially for her. But it doesn't look as if she's going to turn up this afternoon,' she added disconsolately. 'Your crystal ball is in need of an overhaul,' Max said dryly, glancing towards the open french windows, 'for here's the prodigal in person!' Alice put her teacup down with a little crash and jumped to her feet. 'Ondine darling,' she exclaimed dramatically, 'you gave me such a dreadful fright! Where on earth have you been?' 'Oh, don't fuss, Mummy,' replied the apparition who stood lounging against the windows. 'You'd think I'd been to the North Pole, or somewhere.' Ondine was about seventeen, Helen judged. But it was hard to tell her age, because long, straggling hair fell down on either side of her podgy face. A long tattered caftan practically covered her bare feet. 'Why don't you stop posing and come in?' Max said sharply. 'You're not a thing of beauty, you know!'

The girl slouched forward, threw herself back in one of the leather chairs and glared at him through her curtain of lank black hair. 'Ondine dear,' her mother said placatingly, 'won't you have tea? You really must eat more. I made these cress sandwiches especially for you.' 'No tea, thanks,' Ondine replied shortly. 'It's strictly against our rules.' But Helen noticed that she leaned forward and helped herself to a cress sandwich, which she munched sulkily. Mrs Reynolds turned to Helen as if feeling an explanation was necessary. 'You see, Ondine has all sorts of theories about our modern way of life. She feels our values are all wrong. I'm not certain I understand it all,' she added with an air of bewilderment. But Helen saw with secret amusement that the girl was helping herself to another sandwich. As Mrs Reynolds chattered on in her inconsequent way Helen gathered that her chief concern in connection with her daughter was that she had taken a violent fancy to the society of a family of drop-outs who had set up camp not far from Ladyfields. Helen also noticed that Max listened to his aunt's remarks with an air of amused indulgence. But Ondine was not amused. She jumped to her feet. 'It's not funny, Max,' she exclaimed. 'This is something I really and truly do believe in, and I think it's horrible that you just dismiss it all, as if I were a silly foolish child!'

He glanced at her exasperatedly. 'All right, all right! So you're dedicated to the simple life! But meanwhile do you think you could have the good manners to let me introduce you to my secretary, Miss Helen Carrington?' Ondine had the grace to look shamefaced. 'I'm sorry,' she mumbled to Helen. 'I didn't mean to be rude. You see, I had a pretty good idea who you were. Max has had that advertisement in the papers for a couple of days and there've been all sorts of people wandering in and out.' 'Well, now that's settled,' he went on, 'I want you to take Helen around to the flat and show her her quarters.' 'Oh, very well!' she agreed grudgingly. 'You're the boss!' 'Sometimes I wonder about that,' he told her dryly, as Ondine, her draperies billowing, led the way from the room. Helen followed her through the kitchen and as they emerged by the back door of the house she found herself in a stable yard. It was clear that in Victorian days the occupant of the lodge had kept a horse and carriage. But now the coach-house had been transformed into a double garage. Above the stable portion a second storey had been added, which was approached by an outside stairway of wrought iron. As they passed the stable there was a soft whinny and Helen saw that a white horse was resting its head on the half door and was gazing at them with soft melting eyes that seemed to have a look of gentle inquiry. 'Darling, darling Samite!' Ondine ran her fingers through his silky mane. 'Did you think I'd forgotten you?'

She felt in the voluminous folds of her caftan and held a lump of sugar towards him on the palm of her hand. The horse nuzzled it, twitching its muzzle which was as soft as suede. Helen was astonished at the change in Ondine. With a flick of her hand she had flung her hair back and the young, podgy face was no longer sulky. She turned to Helen, her face radiant. 'Isn't he beautiful? He's my only friend. Aren't you, Samite darling?' She laid her cheek against his satiny neck. 'Samite! It sounds a beautiful name. But why do you call him that?' Helen asked. 'Don't you remember? It's that bit from the Morte d'Arthur. It's the only thing I really learned off by heart. It's where Sir Bedevere flings King Arthur's enchanted sword into the lake and an arm rose above the surface of the water, "Clothed in white samite, mystic, wonderful," and drew the sword down to the bottom of the lake.' Then, as though ashamed of showing a weakness, she said gruffly, 'Come on! It's time we were looking at your place!' Helen followed Ondine up the wrought-iron stairway and as they entered the sitting-room of the flat, it was Helen's turn to be enchanted. The room she found herself in was surprisingly large, stretching the full length of what had previously been the stable area: the walls were decorated in a pale shade which held a faint subdued gleam—like silver birch, Helen decided: against this, the furniture was upholstered in a glowing foxglove, with matching curtains on the picture window. Ondine sank into one of the chairs. 'Well, go on! Take a look around,' she suggested ungraciously, her face sullen once more.

So on her own, Helen surveyed the remaining rooms. The bedroom walls/were a pale apricot and here the cushions on the lounging chair and the spreads on the twin beds were in a rich antique gold. The tiny kitchen was gleamingly clean and fitted with up-to-date electrical equipment. The small bathroom, tiled in white and tangerine, with its shower unit, completed her tour of inspection. 'Why, it's perfectly lovely!' Helen told Ondine enthusiastically as she returned to die sitting-room. 'I didn't dream it would be so attractive!' 'Oh, you find it attractive?' Ondine said critically. 'Personally, I consider it awful.' 'You don't like it?' Helen asked in surprise. Ondine slumped back against the cushions. 'I think it's frightfully bogus and inky-dinky,' she pronounced contemptuously. Then, surveying Helen from head to toe, she asked unexpectedly, 'Do you always dress like that? Or is this for Max's benefit?' Helen looked at her doubtfully. Then, convinced that Ondine didn't clearly realise how rude she was being, she replied, 'Well, perhaps I did dress a little more carefully than usual for my interview. But I need the job pretty badly.' 'What a perfectly stupid way of spending one's life!' Ondine exclaimed with a snort. 'Do you realise you'll be stuck in that ghastly room with Max all day long during the most perfect time of the year?' 'You sound as if you didn't believe in work! What do you do for money? I suppose you do have a job,' Helen smiled. Somehow it was impossible to take Ondine seriously.

'I should jolly well say not,' Ondine replied. 'Mummy's pretty generous and if I run short I do a spot of jewellery work, or weaving, or something,' she ended vaguely. 'All the same, I wouldn't dream of doing it unless I was absolutely stony broke!' 'I don't suppose you'd earn much money that way,' Helen said doubtfully. 'Perhaps not,' Ondine returned indifferently, 'but I'm doing my thing! And anyway I don't understand how you can consider working for Max. You've no idea how rotten he can be sometimes. I'm just telling you so that you'll know what you're getting into before it's too late. Take Joyce Cartwright, the last girl he had, she was a terrific friend of mine. We saw eye to eye in practically everything. Well, the next thing, he was laying down the law about what a bad influence she was—just because Joyce suggested we might brighten up the flat a little when he was away for a few days. It looked simply terrific. We painted the two end walls black and it looked marvellous, especially as the other two walls were a sort of deep rich mauve. Of course there was ructions when he got back. He tufted Joyce out and got the whole place redecorated. He had it done by one of those stuffy old-fashioned decorating firms who know how to charge. It must have cost him a mint. And serve him right too!' she ended with satisfaction. 'Of course he thinks I don't know the real reason why he got rid of her!' She paused dramatically. And Helen, knowing it was expected of her, asked, 'Well, why do you think he did it?' 'Because Joyce was nuts about him, that's why. Although how anyone could fall for Max is a complete mystery to me. But in the end she became a bit of a bore. She used to moon about the flat

staring into the distance, and that sort of thing. I suppose he got sick of it, for she was always waylaying him. Anyway, Joyce was simply heartbroken when she left.' Well, that was one mistake she was hardly likely to make, Helen thought bleakly. She felt as though her heart were encased in a sheet of ice. Unlike her predecessor, she was armed against all heartbreak. Ondine regarded Helen suspiciously. 'You're not going to fall for him, are you?' she asked. 'It would be really rotten if you did. It's frightfully depressing to get friendly with a girl and then find she's all moony about someone like Max.' 'There's not the smallest possibility that I'll fall in love with him— or with any man, for that matter,' Helen said. 'You mean,' Ondine asked, intrigued, 'that you've had a terribly, terribly tragic affair and have become hopelessly embittered?' 'Nothing so dramatic!' Helen returned. 'Just let's say I've learned my lesson.' Ondine slumped back, evidently disappointed with Helen's matterof-fact attitude. 'But why do you stay here, if you dislike your cousin so much?' Helen asked curiously. 'I haven't much choice, really!' Ondine told her. 'When Daddy died there wasn't an awful lot of money, and Mummy had no place to go. When Max got this job, he needed someone to manage the house, so we moved in. Mummy was awfully pleased, of course! Not,' she added after a moment's thought, 'that I actually loathe

him or anything like that. It's simply that we don't see eye-to-eye about my particular life style.' She got to her feet and stretched languidly. 'Well, if you're all through here, perhaps we'd better get back to the house.' As they crossed the yard to the kitchen Helen felt her spirits rise. Not for one moment had she expected such a beautiful little retreat all to herself! It was here she would make a fresh start, she told herself. She was unaware of how her face glowed as they rejoined Max and his aunt. 'So you like it,' he said quietly. 'It's written all over you.' Helen nodded, her eyes sparkling. 'It's a little gem,' she said enthusiastically. 'Well, how would you like to settle in tonight?' he asked abruptly. 'I'd like that,' she replied happily. 'That's a splendid idea,' Alice put in. 'I'll get bed linen right away. It won't take me long to make things habitable.' 'In the meanwhile I'll drive you back to the Golden Galleon and you can collect your traps,' said Max. She was on the point of agreeing when his eyes met hers. They were warm and quizzical and interested and instinctively a warning signal seemed to sound in her heart. She must not show the smallest chink in her armour because all too easily she could fall in love with Max Renton.

'No, thanks,' she said coldly. 'I'll get a taxi.' His face tightened into a grim mask. 'Just as you wish,' he replied, and turning, strode from the room. 'Good for you!' Ondine crowed. 'That put Mr Max Renton firmly in his place. He thinks he can arrange everyone's life to suit himself, you know.' But Helen, as she was driven back to the Golden Galleon, felt no sense of satisfaction. Instead she felt as if in some way she had chipped a little gilt off her new-found contentment.

CHAPTER THREE 'WELL, how did you get on?' Jean asked eagerly, when she arrived at the inn. 'I got the job,' Helen told her, basking in Jean's obvious pleasure in her good fortune. 'Not that it surprises me!' the little woman continued when she had congratulated Helen. 'The only thing I regret is that you're going so soon. I've the feeling in my bones that we might have been right good friends if you'd been able to stay here longer.' 'But why shouldn't we be friends?' Helen returned. 'After all, I've only moved a few miles out of Medhurst. I've a wonderful flat. The rooms are quite big and you could come and stay any time you get a few free days.' Jean's face brightened. 'Well now, I'd like that fine. I could call along some day and we could have a wee chat.' 'And I'll make you oatcakes for your tea and you'll think you're back in Scotland,' Helen said mischievously. They were laughing together when Mrs Jarvis joined them. 'Don't tell me! I can see you're all fixed up!' she exclaimed. 'Well, you couldn't have got a nicer place, for Mrs Reynolds is a real lady and I know she'll do her best to make you happy. When do you start work?' 'The sooner I get settled in the better, I suppose,' Helen replied. 'Then you'll want your things! You go up and help her pack, Jean, and I'll brew up a cup of tea.'

'Oh, Mrs Reynolds brought in tea in the middle of the interview,' Helen told her. 'It was just as well, I suppose, because Max Renton can be pretty formidable when he wants.' 'Well, all's well that ends well,' Mrs Jarvis said placidly. 'I'll ring for a taxi while you're packing.' Later, when Helen's cases had been packed Jean extracted from the top of the wardrobe a package wrapped in plastic. She rummaged mysteriously in its interior and produced a zipped writing-pad of imitation leather. It was adorned with crudely painted sprigs of white and purple heather. 'I'd like you to have it,' she told Helen. 'I got it for Christmas from a niece, but it's that seldom I write letters that I put it away with my bits and pieces. You'll make better use of it, no doubt,' Jean added gruffly. Guessing that Jean, with true Scottish dislike of sentiment, would be embarrassed by any show of emotion, Helen swallowed the lump that had arisen in her throat. 'I'll keep it for my most important letters,' she assured Jean, as she slipped in into her handbag. 'And every time I use it I'll remember I've a friend at the Golden Galleon.' Jean beamed. But all she said was, 'Well now, it's time we were getting your cases downstairs, or the taxi man will be kicking up ructions.' Later, when her luggage was being stowed in the taxi Mrs Jarvis appeared on the scene. 'And don't forget to call in for a cup of tea any time you're passing,' she invited. 'And no charge!' she added with a chuckle.

And as Helen drove away Mrs Jarvis and Jean were in the doorway to wave her a friendly goodbye. And as the taxi sped through the town and emerged on the country road leading towards the Manville estate, Helen was thinking that it was a good thing that the bad-tempered Mr Jarvis had not put in an appearance. His presence would quite have spoiled her parting from the Golden Galleon. As it was, her heart warmed to the thought that in Mrs Jarvis and Jean she had two loyal friends. No matter what lay ahead in the new life she was taking up, she had always them to rely upon. As she entered the sitting-room of the fiat, Helen was met by the delicious scent of coffee, and in the kitchen she found a percolator cheerfully bubbling and cups and saucers set out upon the white enamelled table, with slices of sultana cake. So Mrs Reynolds had kept her promise to make things what she called 'habitable.' There was a slight sound from the bedroom and when Helen went in she found Alice Reynolds spreading snowy sheets on the bed. 'Ah, there you are,' she said cheerfully. 'I'm giving you some of our linen sheets, because I'm not dreadfully keen on those modern coloured ones. They may look pretty, but there's nothing to beat the crisp, cool feel of freshly laundered linen in my opinion.' Then, in her usual inconsequential way, she added, 'You know, I'm so glad Max decided on you! I've a feeling you'll be a good influence on Ondine. The last girl was really not at all suitable. It really took a weight off my mind when I heard you accept. You look so sensible and steady.' So that was how she appeared to Alice! Had she also struck Max as being sensible and steady? Perhaps that was why she had got

the job in the first place! The idea was distinctly depressing. Surely that horrible moment when she had discovered Suzanne in Mike's arms had not aged her beyond her years! Covertly Helen glanced at herself in the mirror above the mantel. But a small pointed face with large inquiring eyes stared back at her. She looked more like an overgrown schoolgirl than someone who had already suffered the miseries of a broken romance. She glanced away, feeling rather foolish. But Alice had not been paying the smallest attention. 'I think we'll have a coffee now,' she said placidly. 'And I know I simply won't be able to resist the sultana cake. It's a special favourite of mine, although I know it does nothing for my figure.' Over coffee, Alice chattered away, jumping with bewildering rapidity from one subject to another, and Helen found her mind wandering. When Alice had gone, she was thinking she would write to Suzanne and ask her to send on some things from their flat. It wouldn't be an easy letter to write, she realised, but she longed for the little personal objects that would complete her domain and make it warm and familiar. She particularly wanted her collection of dolls. She had brought most of them with her from Worcester, and had added to it gradually. It had started with an aunt presenting her with an antique wax doll. Bit by bit she had collected others; dolls from all parts of the world, dressed in the national costumes and complete down to the smallest detail. They had provided a talking point; something to break the ice when friends had visited them— although as far as Suzanne was concerned the ice very seldom needed to be broken. But they had definitely become a sort of background to their lives, placed here and there throughout the flat, and she knew that Suzanne had almost begun to regard them as her own.

When at last Alice had departed, Helen drew up a chair to the small teak writing-desk and taking up Jean's writing- case, she unzipped it and prepared to compose a letter. She had several tries before she decided on something that would be sufficiently cold and detached. There could be no exchange now of the idiotic postcards they used to send each other when either of them had been away from the flat for a few days. When she had finished, instead of her usual wild scrawl, she signed her name in a neat, formal hand. Suzanne would probably not reply, she thought as she sealed her letter, but anyway, she had tried and it was a relief to have the business over. She placed it on the mantelshelf. On the following morning before she began work she would leave it in the hall for posting. That night, as she lay in bed, she had a clear view of the house across the yard. It was a bright moonlit night. The walls were shadowed but the light in the study window was like a piece of bright cut-out orange paper. Max must still be working. He would be a difficult man to know, she decided. There was suppressed power behind his easy, outgoing manner so that even those nearest to him would find it difficult to know what was going on behind those dark, quizzical eyes. Well, that was how she liked it, she told herself drowsily. The less she knew of him the better! Nothing must disturb this wonderful sense of having found a haven of peace! Vaguely she was aware of Samite stirring restlessly in his stall. She had a feeling she would grow dearly to love the gentle creature, and she smiled as she drifted off to sleep.

Mrs Reynolds had seen that her tiny kitchen was well stocked and on the following morning, after breakfast, Helen crossed the yard, went around the side of the house and entered it by the front door. Alice Reynolds would probably still be busy in the kitchen at this time in the morning, and Helen felt she would rather wait until she knew the household better before entering by the back door. She found Max waiting for her. He was dressed in well-worn tweeds and was standing by his desk flicking through what appeared to be a pile of Government pamphlets. 'Oh, there you are!' he looked up. 'I'll just run through what I want you to do today and then I'll have to be off. I've to visit one of the farms and I'll probably be away some time.' So much for Ondine's prophecy that she would be stuck in the same room with him all day! Helen was thinking. He picked up a mug of coffee that stood on the desk and sipped it thoughtfully. 'Most of the work here will be strange to you, so you can take it quietly for the first two days. After that, beware!' He said this casually enough, but Helen was not deceived. She noticed how the light slanting through the long french windows accentuated the strong jutting line of his jaw and the hollows beneath his cheekbones. It was not the face of a man who suffered fools gladly. She listened attentively as he outlined her work programme for the day.

'And now I'll leave you to it,' he said at last, 'I probably shan't be home for lunch, but you can have it with the others or here by yourself, whatever you prefer.' He picked up some papers, but before he could leave there was the sound of hurried footsteps and Corina swept into the room. She drew to an abrupt halt and stared at Helen in disbelief. 'This is Helen Carrington, my new secretary,' Max said easily. Then, as he caught the expression on Corina's face, he said, 'Do you two happen to know each other?' Corina laughed shortly. 'I should think we do. This girl is a waitress at the Golden Galleon—and an incompetent one to boot. What she's doing here is beyond me.' 'She happens also to be a trained shorthand-typist,' he told her. 'I don't care what she is! She simply ruined my clothes with her carelessness.' 'Oh yes, we've heard all about that!' 'Well, what are you going to do about it?' she demanded, her face stormy. He leaned against the desk. 'My dear girl, what do you suggest I do about it?' 'Sack her, of course!' she snapped. 'You're being utterly unreasonable, Corina. I haven't the slightest intention of doing any such thing.'

'You sound bored,' she said tartly. 'Frankly the subject is becoming boring. It's fairly obvious it was an accident. You've got the whole thing out of proportion.' He glanced at his watch. 'I'll have to push off. You seem to forget 1 should be attending to your father's affairs. These futile discussions are completely time- wasting.' To Corina, this remark appeared to be the last straw. With a swift movement she swept up a heavy, amber-tinted ash-tray that rested on a small table and hurled it in his general direction. Her aim was bad, however, and it flew straight through the open window and landed with a thud in a flower-bed. 'There! Look what you've made me do!' she exclaimed furiously. But Max seemed completely unperturbed by the incident. 'I'm visiting one of the farms,' he told her. 'Why don't you come with me? A long drive is just what you need. It will help you to simmer down.' But Corina's rage had evaporated as quickly as it had arisen. 'I'd rather you drove me into Medhurst. I've some shopping to do.' 'Sorry, no go! I can't neglect your father's business just because you have a taste for the bright lights of Medhurst.' 'Max, you're impossible!' She swayed across the room towards him and tucked her long slim fingers into his arm. 'All right, darling, I capitulate. Let's go and count Farmer Jones's cattle. I'll probably find it fascinating.' 'That I very much doubt,' he said dryly.

'I don't care what we do, as long as I'm with you.' Corina's voice throbbed with a depth of feeling that Helen found embarrassing. Corina was behaving as if she and Max were alone together in a world of their own, and Helen felt it a faint troubled sensation which she found hard to define. She had armoured herself against love and all show of emotion, and yet, seeing these two together, she felt deprived, an outsider. This was not for her—and never would be again if she could possibly help it. The realisation seemed to lie on her heart like a heavy weight. She watched them as they walked past the flower-beds towards the car parked in the driveway. Corina had her hand still tucked in Max's arm. Her head was resting against his arm. Her pencil-slim figure was in marked contrast to his burly frame. Corina was unusually tall, and it struck her what a magnificent couple they were, physically well matched! Maybe in time she would discover whether they were as well matched in other ways! As the morning wore on, Helen discovered to her chagrin that she was not getting through the work as quickly as she had expected. There were all sorts of unfamiliar agricultural terms and references that sounded like double Dutch to her. And when Alice Reynolds announced that lunch was ready Helen decided to have hers in the study and to push on with the work as quickly as she could. Alice, however, had no intention of letting slip an opportunity for a gossip and when she had placed the tray on the desk plumped herself cosily down into one of the leather armchairs. 'You look worried, my dear,' she said sympathetically. 'I suppose the work is strange to you. It must be different from working in an office.' 'I expect I'll get into it, in time,' Helen returned.

She had intended to have a quick lunch and then to resume work, but Alice gave every sign of being a fixture for some time to come. 'I expect there are a lot of things here strange to you— including Corina Manville. I thought I heard raised voices when I was passing the door this morning. And that's putting it mildly, for when Corina's in a rage you can hear her for miles around.' 'She does seem a little—temperamental,' Helen said cautiously. Alice chuckled. 'Temperamental! If you ask me, the girl is spoiled silly. She's Ronald Manville's only child and of course he thinks the sun, moon and stars revolve around her. It's my opinion he bought Ladyfields in the hope that she'd settle down and act as hostess to his friends and business associates. But she's hardly ever in that big old house. She spends her time rattling around the countryside with a wild young set who are always getting their names in the gossip columns.' 'But is there no one she cares for? No one she'd think of marrying?' Helen asked. 'She seems to be—well, she gives the impression of being interested in Mr Renton.' She felt a little mean as she said this, knowing that she was deliberately pumping the older woman. But for some reason or other she felt an overwhelming curiosity concerning Corina's relationship to Max Renton. Alice considered. 'I don't know whether she's really in love with him, or whether she's simply interested in him because he's older. And then, of course, a man with his background is bound to attract a girl like Corina. But then you wouldn't know about that, would you?' She cast a sly glance at Helen. So she hadn't been so subtle, after all, Helen was thinking. Alice had guessed that she was deeply interested.

'It all began years ago,' Alice pursued. 'And as far as wildness goes, Max could put Corina in the halfpenny place. His father was fairly wealthy: he had a large farm and many interests besides. But he had set his heart on Max going to agricultural college, and taking over from him when the time came. But Max had other ideas. He couldn't stand the idea of a regimented life. And one day off he went and the next thing my sister heard from him was that he was in Canada. He'd taken a job as manager of a ranch. And made a great success of it too!' Alice concluded proudly. 'Then why did he come back to England?' Helen asked. 'Now that's a question I can't answer. But I suspect it was because he thought it was time he married and settled down, and he wanted an English bride. But who knows?' Alice ended. She got to her feet. 'Well, I'll leave you to get on with your work. I'll bring you in a cup of tea later on. I'm for ever brewing up pots of tea, you know,' she added with a little self-deprecating laugh, as she closed the door behind her. When she had gone, Helen began to work again. Well, she told herself, her conversation with Alice had solved one mystery concerning her boss's character. His strange, restless life no doubt accounted for that hint of arrogance in his manner. He had always had to take care of himself and fight his own corner, and it was second nature with him to insist on having the upper hand in any encounter. As the days slipped past Helen found the work easier. Max was seldom home for lunch, because he frequently spent the afternoons visiting the outlying farms, and Helen during her early days at the Lodge usually joined Alice and Ondine in the dining room at lunch time.

But she quickly realised what a mistake this was, because if Ondine happened to be present, she and her mother exchanged an endless stream of complaints. It was hardly much better if Ondine happened to be absent on one of her mysterious excursions, because then Alice harped on her daughter's shortcomings. In desperation, Helen acquired the habit of having her lunch served in the study where she could dawdle peacefully over her meal with her favourite paperback propped in front of her tray. The food was always delicious and beautifully served, although she had difficulty in convincing Alice that she really preferred to be on her own. One Saturday morning as she lay in bed drowsily watching the sun motes dancing on the ceiling, she was telling herself that she must plan the day carefully. First she would have an early breakfast, then dress in her smartest outfit and walk into Medhurst. There were a few purchases she had to make, and she would also do a bit of window-shopping. The souvenir shops, she had noticed were packed to bursting point with novelties and knick- knacks of all sorts. Some, of course, were utterly useless, she told herself severely. But all the same they had a fatal fascination which she found impossible to resist. There was only one small cloud on her contentment and that was that she had had no reply from Suzanne. But had she really expected one? she wondered. That part of her life was over for good—and with it had gone the dolls, which had once been so dear to her. She enjoyed the walk into Medhurst, passing the gardens of the cottages, bursting with peonies, lilac and laburnum. She made her own prosaic purchases fairly quickly, but when it came to dawdling about the souvenir shops, she found them already packed

with early visitors. She wasn't able to wander around at her leisure and handle the goods as she liked to do. Afterwards she dropped in to have a chat with Jean and Mrs Jarvis and then collected her parcels and began to stroll back to Ladyfields. She was almost at the gates when, rounding a slight bend, she came upon a car drawn up to the side of the road. Bending over the engine was a slim young man with rather tousled brown hair. And as she approached, he gave a sudden exclamation and snatched his hand from under the bonnet. Helen gave a gasp as she saw it was covered with blood. She hurried towards him. 'Let me have a look at that,' she said quickly. 'It's nothing! Just a scratch,' he said lightly. He took a none too clean handkerchief from his pocket and wrapped it roughly about the wound, but the material instantly became soaked with blood and Helen noted that in spite of his disclaimer there was a distinct greenish tinge to his face. 'You'd better come in and let me bandage it,' she told him, without noticing just how peremptory she sounded. Then she added, 'I work here,' indicating the open gates of Ladyfields. 'I live only a short way down the avenue. I shan't keep you long, and it's best to get that cut disinfected and bandaged immediately. It looks very nasty to me.' He hazarded a rather watery grin. 'O.K.! If you insist! I think I know who you are. You're Max Renton's latest girl Friday, aren't you? Well, as I don't seem to be able to get this thing to go, I may as well take you up on your kind offer.'

With his left hand he lowered the cover of the bonnet and fell into step with her as they turned into the drive. 'By the way, in case you're wondering who you're acting the good Samaritan to, I'm Jim Madison, the local vet.' 'And I'm Helen Carrington,' she told him a little primly, aware that she was being examined with more than passing interest by those light blue eyes. 'But then you told me you knew who I was.' 'Only that you're Max's latest!' 'That sounds as though Mr Renton's secretaries come and go pretty quickly,' she told him acidly. He grinned. 'Yes, I suppose some of them do, and I must say I wasn't surprised when Joyce Cartwright took her departure. She cut a swathe through the men in Medhurst —apart from driving Max nearly round the bend.' 'You seem to know quite a lot about Max Renton's affairs.' He shrugged airily. 'Those things get around, you know. But I see from the looks of you that your stay will be much longer.' 'Thanks,' Helen returned dryly, as she led the way up the side stairs. 'You seem to be quite a judge of character.' But Jim Madison wasn't listening. He was staring around the sitting-room with an air of blank surprise. 'Well, I must say there've been great changes since I was here last. Joyce Cartwright went in for black and mauve walls. A bit startling at first glance, but in a funny sort of way they suited her.'

'And I suppose you assume that this decor suits me!' Helen decided that she did not at all like this assumption that she was dull and conventional. She went into the kitchen and prepared a basin of warm water and, in a well-stocked medicine cabinet, she found bandages and disinfectant. As she bandaged his hand she was aware that he was watching her closely. 'Do you know, it's very nice to be attended to for a change—especially by such a pretty girl!' But this was a line that came easily to Jim Maddison, Helen guessed. 'I expect you said that to Joyce Cartwright,' she said dryly. 'No, why on earth should I? She never bandaged my hand, you know. She wasn't the hand-bandaging type.' 'There you go again!' Helen said with exasperation, as she tied the last knot. He raised his eyebrows. 'What on earth do you mean?' 'You manage to make me seem as mousy and dull and conventional as you can,' she replied. 'Mousy!' he exclaimed. 'How could you imagine such a thing? Why, you're one of the prettiest girls I've come across. And that's what makes it so difficult for me to make my departure,' he went on, getting to his feet reluctantly. But Helen had noticed how clearly his freckles stood out against the pallor of his face. 'You're not going until you've had a cup of tea,' she told him firmly. 'You look quite done-in.'

He sank back gratefully on to the cushions. 'I admit a cup of tea would be more than welcome. I've never yet seen the cow or the horse that had gratitude enough to offer me any refreshment!' As Helen went back again to the kitchen she saw him lean his head against a cushion and close his eyes, and she realised that, in spite of his flippancy, his hand must have been paining him very much. She arranged a tray with the pretty pink and gold tea- set with matching tea-pot and filled a biscuit barrel with assorted biscuits. When she brought it into the living-room, she found him sitting up alert and obviously pleased that they were to be together a little longer drinking tea. She didn't notice the minutes slipping by. She found Jim Madison an entertaining companion. He had a way of lightly touching on the amusing side of his life at Medhurst, sketching in the local characters with a sure, deft touch. Jim Madison was the type of man who would put himself out to flatter a girl. By his very efforts to appear amusing he would impress upon her how much he valued her approval. Had Joyce Cartwright too experienced his deliberate charm? she wondered. Yet, when he glanced at his watch and stood up, she felt a distinct sense of disappointment. 'It's time I was shoving off,' he said regretfully. 'I'll walk into Medhurst and get someone to send for the car.' Just then there came the sound of horse's hooves on the cobbled yard and glancing out Helen remarked, 'It's Ondine on Samite! Isn't he a beautiful animal?' But to her surprise, Jim had turned away indifferently and was apparently engrossed in examining the books on the shelves that were set into each side of the fireplace.

Next came the sound of footsteps running up the stairs and Ondine bounded into the living-room. She was looking her best in wellfitting riding clothes, her hair tied back with a wide ribbon, her eyes glowing with pleasure. 'Oh, Helen, I've had the most glorious ride -' she began, then stopped abruptly as she caught sight of Jim. 'This is Jim Madison,' Helen began. 'Thanks! I already know him,' Ondine said harshly. The glow had faded from her face and her eyes had become hard and antagonistic. Jim turned and regarded her calmly. 'Yes indeed. Ondine and I know each other very well.' This reply seemed to infuriate the girl. 'Too well, as far as you're concerned, no doubt,' she retorted. Jim spoke to Helen. 'Thanks for everything. I think it's time I was taking my departure.' 'Don't leave on my account,' Ondine put in angrily. 'I haven't the slightest intention of inflicting my company on you. If I'd known you were here I shouldn't have come up in the first place. But then I didn't realise you made friends so easily,' she added, darting a hostile glance in Helen's direction, before turning and running swiftly down the stairs. Helen gazed after her in bewilderment. 'Now what was all that about, I wonder?'

Jim Madison shrugged and smiled wryly. 'Sorry about that rather embarrassing scene. But I shouldn't have come in the first place. Well, I'll be off now. Thanks for the tea and attention. Being a vet I'm not used to being fussed over. We're supposed to be such selfreliant people that people seldom bother, and -' 'Just a moment,' Helen interrupted. 'Why shouldn't you have come here?' He hesitated, then said, 'I'm afraid I can't go into it, but it seems I'm not a favourite person at Ladyfields. In fact, my relations with Max are strictly professional. We see as little of each other as we possibly can.' 'But you're my guest,' Helen protested. 'But on Max Renton's property,' Jim pointed out. Helen felt her ire rise. 'I was given this flat for my use. Naturally I understood I could invite whom I wished. Mr Renton has nothing whatsoever to do with whom I do or do not invite.' Jim laughed. 'My dear girl, you sound naive. You'll soon discover that Max Renton makes all the decisions around here.' 'Well, not in my life he doesn't,' Helen said firmly. 'I'll invite anyone I wish, and Max Renton or anyone else won't stop me.' But Jim Madison was already taking his departure. He had lost his air of angry bitterness as he said, 'I shouldn't count on it,' as she followed him to the door. 'It may not be immediately obvious, but Max Renton is rather an autocrat in his own way.'

Puzzled, she waited as he crossed the yard and left by a gate that bypassed the house. As though aware of her regard Jim turned and waved up to her, before walking off down the avenue. From where she stood Helen had a good view of the window of Max's study in the main house and she caught a fleeting glance of Ondine striding up and down the room and waving her hands as though angrily expostulating to someone unseen. She was evidently complaining to Max, telling him, no doubt, that she had encountered Jim Madison in the flat. Uneasily Helen closed the door. What in the world had the girl against Jim? she wondered. And Ondine's anger evidently extended to anyone who had the effrontery to invite him past the gates of Ladyfields. Helen had the feeling that her evening meal with the family would not be a comfortable one. Nor was she mistaken. When she had changed into a soft linen dress, she crossed the yard to the house. As they took their places around the long oak table with its centrepiece of cream and white roses in a crystal bowl the atmosphere was distinctly strained: Max seemed abstracted, while Ondine, stormy- eyed, deliberately avoided looking in Helen's direction. 'What a pretty frock, my dear!' Alice said, with artificial brightness. 'It looks so cool arid fresh. Don't you agree, Ondine?' she added nervously. Ondine, frowning, looked up from her plate and regarded Helen. 'If you ask me, it's too utterly conventional.'

'No doubt, compared to your usual get-ups it may appear conventional,' Max put in evenly, 'but there's no necessity for rudeness.' Ondine glared at him. 'Why don't you ask her why she invited Jim Madison up to her flat?' 'I shall do nothing of the sort,' Max said coolly. 'I hope when Helen gets to know us better she will realise that there are certain people in Medhurst who are not welcome.' Why did he speak as if she were not present? Helen thought resentfully. 'I hadn't realised that when I was given the flat it would mean you would select my friends,' she told him sharply. There was a long and rather unnerving silence. 'Aren't the roses simply lovely this year!' Alice put in fatuously, in an effort to bridge the rather awesome pause that followed this remark, and Helen had the satisfaction of knowing that Max was regarding her with a look of new intentness as though, she told herself triumphantly, he was realising for the first time that, far from being the meek and mild menial, she had a mind of her own. Even Ondine glanced at her in surprise as though amazed at her audacity. 'We must remember that Helen hasn't been here very long and that she can't be expected to realise that things are not as simple as they appear to her. There are wheels within wheels.' 'I do wish you'd stop speaking about me as if I weren't here!' Helen said angrily.

But Max paid no attention to this outburst and turning to Alice he coolly changed the subject. Helen listened fuming. She would have preferred he was angry with her, but instead he said to Alice, 'I suppose you did write to Eunice telling her not to send the twins here?' Alice's fork dropped into her plate with a little clatter. 'I wrote the letter, but I forgot to post it!' she exclaimed. 'Oh, how like you, Mummy!' Ondine said crossly. 'Now Eunice is sure to send on those two tiresome children! Last time they were here they went through my room and nearly wrecked it!' The rest of the meal was spent by Alice and Ondine in recounting the iniquities of the twins, and Helen, listening, was forced to the conclusion that they did indeed sound a pretty handful. Unless Alice and Ondine were exaggerating grossly, it would be as well if the twins were not to arrive. Later, when the meal was over and Helen was crossing the hall, the doorbell rang. Helen went forward to answer it. As she threw the door open she found herself looking down into two brilliant blue eyes under a mop of tousled hair. The child held by the hand another little boy, a smaller and paler edition of himself, and Helen could not but realise that the twins had arrived. In the background she was vaguely aware of Ondine's fearsome scowl and Alice's little exclamations of dismay. Making off along the drive she could see the rear end of a taxi, and around the children cases were piled. 'I'm Tobin and this is Jonathan, and he was sick in the taxi and I think he's going to be sick again,' Tobin announced in a loud, shrill voice. 'No, I'm not!' Jonathan piped indignantly.

'Why are you standing out there? Why don't you come in?' Max invited in a resigned tone of voice. 'Now tell us how you managed to get here.' 'Mummy put us in a taxi and told the man where to take us,' Tobin replied airily. 'So this is what is called a fait accompli!' Max said dryly. 'I must say I think Eunice has a frightful nerve!' Ondine began indignantly. Alice glanced at the twins. 'Hush, Ondine! Not in front of the children!' 'Oh, I heard her,' Jonathan said calmly. 'And so did I!' Tobin agreed, nodding at his brother. And the two little fellows stood nodding sagely in unison which made Helen smile. 'It's no laughing matter, I can assure you,' Alice said dolefully. 'Me and Jonathan wanted to go to Africa with Mummy and Daddy, didn't we, Jonathan?' Tobin announced. Jonathan nodded. 'But it's too far for us to travel this time. They have giant spiders there, you know, and Jonathan and me wanted to see them. Didn't we, Jonathan?' Again Jonathan nodded, but this time with less conviction, Helen noticed.

'Well, spiders, or no spiders,' Alice said with a slight shudder, 'I think you'd better have something to eat, and then we can find somewhere for you to sleep tonight, because I've no preparations made. Ondine, take them down to the kitchen and give them a meal.'

CHAPTER FOUR 'OH no, I'm doing nothing of the kind,' Ondine replied firmly. 'You may as well know, right from the start, I don't intend to spend the summer catering for those two little monsters.' 'We're not monsters, are we, Jonathan?' Tobin asked with interest. Jonathan obediently nodded and then, thinking better of it, shook his head. 'No, we're not monsters,' he said doubtfully. 'You're very rude, and what's more you tell fibs,' Tobin accused Ondine indignantly. 'It's horrid to say we're monsters when we're not, you know!' 'I'll take them,' said Helen, laughing at the comic look of indignation on Tobin's face, and the scowl of annoyance on Ondine's. But once in the kitchen, Helen found it difficult to find her way around. After some searching she discovered in the pantry the remains of a ham and when she had gathered together bread, butter and milk, she plied the twins with sandwiches and huge glasses of milk. While they tucked into the food, Tobin regaled Helen with his views on practically everything. She discovered, early on, that he didn't like Ondine. 'She's much too cross,' he announced, 'And anyway, she doesn't like us, does she, Jonathan?' Jonathan, who had opened a sandwich and was suspiciously investigating its contents, nodded absently.

'She says awful things about us,' Tobin assured Helen solemnly. He lowered his voice. 'You won't believe this, but she says we're incorrigible relatives.' 'Yes, I suppose that is pretty bad,' Helen agreed when she had found her voice. 'But maybe she didn't really mean it.' 'Oh yes, she meant it all right. Ondine hates us. The only one she likes is Samite, and she won't let us ride him, although Jonathan and I ride beautifully. We ride like the wind, don't we, Jonathan?' Jonathan, his mouth packed with ham sandwich, found some difficulty in replying, but again nodded loyally. Alice came into the kitchen. 'I've looked out sheets and blankets and spread them out to air. But what we're going to do with these two for the afternoon I really don't know. Would you like to play in the garden?' she asked with such an air of defeat that Helen was not at all surprised when the twins promptly turned down the suggestion. Alice sighed. 'So difficult to know what to do with children nowadays! Now in my young days we were content with simple pleasures. But nowadays all children are looking for is novelty. The old-fashioned pastimes no longer interest them. But anyway, this is all beside the point. I've been through their cases and I've discovered, of course, that Eunice hasn't packed nearly enough for the children. Fancy sending them with no change of socks! But then that's Eunice all over!' 'Mummy meant to buy them, but she forgot,' Jonathan piped. 'Well, all I know is there's no change of socks for you to wear to church in the morning! And just look at what you've on! What on earth have you been doing?'

Helen saw the twins look down at their grubby socks with an air of pleased interest. 'I suppose there's nothing for it but to go into Medhurst and see if I can find something suitable,' Alice said fretfully. 'I'll go if you like,' Helen offered. 'May we come with you?' Tobin instantly seized on this opportunity. Helen hesitated. 'Oh, very well! But only if you'll promise to be good!' 'Oh, we'll be as good as gold,' Jonathan assured her. 'Do you really think you'll be able to control them?' Alice asked doubtfully. 'I mean, you've really no experience of the twins.' 'I'm sure I shall,' Helen said confidently. Secretly she was thinking that the twins had been rather maligned by the family, for apart from being incorrigible little chatterboxes, they were far less unruly than had been predicted. 'Well, I do hope you'll be able to manage,' Alice said without conviction as she left the kitchen, 'otherwise you're in for a most unpleasant afternoon.' Helen looked at the twins. 'I'm going upstairs to fetch a coat and I expect you to wait quietly until I come back,' she told them sternly. Alice's parting words had knocked a little dent in her confidence and for the first time she was feeling slightly uneasy. But the twins gazing back at her looked the picture of wide-eyed innocence.

'We'll be as quiet as mice,' Jonathan assured her. 'We'll even fold our arms and sit in silence until you get back.' Solemnly the twins, in unison, folded their arms and pursed their lips tightly, and once again Helen found it difficult to restrain a laugh. At the start of the walk the twins kept sedately on either side of her, their hands in hers, and then gradually in the fresh bracing air they darted and capered about in front of her, full of childish energy. They were surprisingly docile in the small draper's shop where she took them to buy socks. They begged her to let them choose their own and she was rather appalled by the vivid colours they selected, bright orange and purple and striking emerald green. But after all, she told herself, children had as much right as adults to indulge their tastes. She had the feeling that Alice would make no particular objection. The twins, delighted with their purchases, clutched their parcels as they moved off along the street. Helen stopped to gaze into the windows of the novelty shop. And immediately the boys were attracted by the display of cruet sets: they pointed at one set which was made in the shape of squat little Mexicans in enormous pink sombreros and crimson ponchos. Helen weakly agreed when they begged her to let them see it at closer quarters, and when she had warned them sternly not to touch anything they went into the shop. But their interest in the Mexicans- soon waned and in a few moments they were grabbing toys and winding them up, chattering excitedly as they moved from stand to stand. And, to make matters worse, they separated, each picking up and examining anything that appealed to him, while yelling remarks to his twin across the

shop. Helen discovered with anxiety that while she was keeping an eye on one of them the other would be up to worse depredations. Things came to a head when Jonathan became intrigued by a revolving stand of postcards. He began to spin it faster and faster until a bundle of cards came showering down on the floor. Redfaced with embarrassment, Helen got down on her knees and hastily began to gather them up. Then, as the manageress appeared on the scene, she found herself gazing up into the woman's angry face. 'I'm afraid you'll have to take these children out immediately, unless you intend paying for any damage they may do,' she announced angrily. Helen hastily replaced the bundle of cards in their allotted slot and clutching the children firmly by the arm marched them out of the shop, relieved to get them away before they had broken anything. She paused to lecture them severely, but the twins were too excited to pay any attention. They seemed to be in a wild, intractable mood and even while she was speaking to them Tobin's eyes were darting about in search of fresh adventure. 'Oh, look at the pigeons! Come on, Jonathan, let's feed them!' he exclaimed, and before Helen had time to stop him, he had darted away followed by Jonathan. Helen frantically gave chase and saw that they were headed for a little square in which elderly people were seated on benches, some of them feeding the pigeons that fluttered about their heads, others staring thoughtfully into the distance. Then, with a sense of panic, Helen realised that the children would have to cross the street before reaching the square, and as she darted along in the wake of their flying figures she shouted, 'Come back, Tobin!' and thrust out

her hand to catch the end of his pullover, as he hesitated for an instant on the edge of the pavement. But deftly he evaded her and plunged out into the traffic, almost in the path of a low yellow sports car which was cruising along the main street. The car drew up with a jerk and Tobin, momentarily daunted, drew back and darted off along the pavement, disappearing into the stream of passers-by. And Helen, who had taken a few steps out into the street, found herself gazing into the driver's angry eyes—the eyes of Mike Kendall. 'What are you doing here, Mike?' she gasped. 'You ought to know what I'm doing here,' he replied. 'You went away without as much as a word to me. You must have guessed I wouldn't let you go as easily as that!' 'You came here to see me?' she asked confusedly. 'That's exactly why I've come. Do you find it so extraordinary? After all, we were in love, weren't we?' When Helen could find no reply to this, he went on, 'We'd better find somewhere where we can talk.' As Mike drew the car to the edge of the pavement and got out Helen found that she had been rejoined by the twins. They stood, one of either side of her, gazing up into the face of the stranger. It was clear that when Tobin had found Helen had given up the chase, curiosity had made him wander back to investigate the situation. While Mike parked the car, Helen had time to draw her breath and she had a question ready for him when he returned. 'How did you know where to find me, Mike?'

'You wrote to Suzanne giving her your new address,' he reminded her. 'I see. And she showed you the letter,' Helen said flatly. Then, as she noticed that the twins were listening with absorbed interest, she fell silent. 'I think the best thing we can do is to fill these two characters up with ice-cream and lemonade,' Mike said briskly. 'Then we can talk. Who are they anyway?' 'We're twins: I'm Tobin and he's Jonathan,' Tobin informed him with dignity. 'They're the children of my boss's sister,' Helen told him. 'I agreed to let them come shopping with me, but I can assure you I regret it bitterly.' Tobin appeared completely unmoved by this statement. 'There's a cafe along the street,' he volunteered eagerly, 'that has very good ice-cream. It's got a nice name too. It's called The Humming Kettle.' 'In that case, let's head for it,' Mike ordered. As soon as they arrived at The Humming Kettle, Mike established the children at a table by themselves and he and Helen took a nearby table. When he had ordered the coloured sundaes the children clamoured for, and coffees for himself and Helen, he turned to her and said in a low voice, 'Can you forgive me, Helen? You know, it wasn't altogether my fault. Suzanne—well, to be quite honest, she was set on ousting you. There are some girls like that, you know. Oh, I'll admit I was flattered when she seemed to fall for me, but after a while I realised that it wasn't a simple matter of her being interested in me. She was proving something to

herself, I suppose—that she could get any man she set her eye on, perhaps. When I realised what type she was, it was too late. Nothing could make up to me for losing you. I was frantic until Suzanne showed me your letter. I suppose she had no idea of what you meant to me. Probably she wanted me to know that you had gone out of my life for ever. But when I saw your handwriting, suddenly I realised that I simply must see you again. I wanted so desperately to patch things up, for I knew that you were the only girl in the world for me.' Helen looked at him doubtfully. Now that he was before her, his eyes gazing into hers, she knew that familiar clutch at her heart as she felt how attractive he was. The love she had once had for him seemed to flow back in an overwhelming tide. But now she was not confident and elated: instead, she felt troubled and confused, too uncertain of herself to give the impulsive answer he so obviously longed to hear. 'You do understand how it was, don't you? I was weak and it was unforgivable, I know, but with girls like Suzanne—well, they're clever at confusing a man. I suppose I was living in a sort of dream-world, not realising how dangerously near I was to losing you—for I haven't lost you yet, have I?' He stretched out his hand and placed it firmly over hers and once again she felt his magnetism. This was the man who had swept her off her feet, the man she had intended to marry, yet something still held her back from saying those few words that would restore intimacy and warmth between than. 'I don't really know how I feel, Mike,' she told him miserably. 'I think too much has happened. I'd really need time to sort my feelings out.'

He nodded resignedly. 'Very well! Take your time! I shan't rush you, but don't think for a minute I'm giving you up, Helen. I'll be back again when you've had time to turn things over in your mind and to give me a definite answer.' It was at this time that Helen became aware that the twins' long glasses had been scraped clean and that they were sitting up, ears pricked, alert to everything that went on at the nearby table. 'I think it's time we were getting home. The twins only arrived today. Their mother and father have gone off to Africa and I expect it will take them a day or two to settle in,' she said hastily. It wasn't true, of course, because the twins had immediately made themselves at home, but she wanted to bring the conversation back to a more mundane level. Mike, sensitive to her moods, nodded wryly. 'All right, I'll go now, but remember I haven't the remotest intention of letting you escape from me again.' The twins accompanied them to the spot where he had parked the car and watched wide-eyed as before he drove away, Mike drew her head towards him and gave her a quick kiss. Then as the low, rakish car drove along the street, the twins waved affably, evidently highly satisfied with the doings of the afternoon. Helen noticed that on the walk back they began to drag their feet. So even their apparently inexhaustible energy was beginning to flag! As they reached the house Max was on the point of driving away. He wound down the window. 'And where have you two been?' he asked the twins.

Instantly they broke into a babble of description of their adventures during the afternoon. 'We bought the most gorgeous socks and we had simply enormous ice-cream sundaes,' Jonathan was saying. 'Really! I hope you haven't been foolish enough to wine and dine these two characters,' Max said to Helen. 'I should warn you that if you give them their heads, they'll eat you out of house and home.' 'Oh, it wasn't Helen who bought us the ice-cream,' Jonathan told him. 'It was the man who nearly ran Tobin down in his beautiful yellow car. He took us to The Humming Kettle and I had a chocolate sundae and Tobin had a pineapple glory. Helen and the man were sitting at a different table and they had coffee, but they didn't drink much of it. They were talking together nearly all of the time. But I think they were whispering, because I couldn't hear a word they said. Could you, Tobin?' Tobin shook his head. 'I expect they were telling secrets,' he said sagely. 'And then the man kissed Helen and drove off in his yellow car.' There was a short silence after this, and Helen became aware that she was the focus of a long and disconcerting glance from Max. She found herself avoiding his eye, for some reason or other feeling extremely uncomfortable. Of course, it was all nonsense that she should feel embarrassed, she told herself. It was no business of Max Renton's whom she met or, for that matter, who had kissed her. But all the same, when he started the car and drove off suddenly she found herself standing in the drive, looking after him, for some reason or other feeling distinctly at a disadvantage. Slowly she followed the twins, who had run eagerly into the house and were busily engaged in recounting their adventures to Alice.

There was no sign of Max at dinner that evening and afterwards when they had settled in the small sitting-room where the family often gathered after dinner, there were faint sounds of thuds and bangs from the upper floor which announced plainer than words that the twins, while they might have retired to their room, had certainly hot settled down for the night. 'If only I hadn't forgotten to post that letter to Eunice,' Alice mourned. 'On the other hand, I don't believe it would have done much good, for Eunice is one of those people who have no consideration for anyone else. She's completely wrapped up in that husband of hers. I do believe she'd follow him to the ends of the earth. And I must say, now that the boys have arrived, I feel Eunice carries things rather too far. Don't you agree?' But Helen's own feelings were in too much confusion to permit her to give a decisive answer to this question. 'Perhaps she's very much in love with him,' she prevaricated. 'Nonsense!' Alice snorted. 'Love's all very well and good, but when it means you're going to saddle someone else with the twins, it boils down to plain selfishness, I think.' At this point there was a reverberating thud and Alice started and glanced apprehensively at the ceiling. 'Perhaps if I read them a story, they'd settle down,' Helen suggested. 'After all, this is their first night here and they're bound to feel a little strange.' 'I suppose you could try it,' Alice replied without conviction. 'Although I really must say nothing seems to make any difference. And as to feeling strange—I think it's the exact opposite! Perhaps if they felt a little more strange, things would be more peaceful.

Anyway, you could try! Eunice has put a couple of story books in their luggage. I'll fetch them, if you like.' She returned with two brightly-illustrated, glossy- covered books, but when Helen brought these to the twins' room she quickly discovered that they had nothing but disdain for their mother's choice of literature. 'Little Red Riding Hood and The Three Bears! That's only for babies!' Tobin said scornfully. 'Well, it's the book your mother has packed for you,' Helen pointed out. 'Oh, Mummy thinks we're only infants,' he replied. 'She doesn't know we're quite grown up now.' 'Well, what sort of story do you want?' Helen asked resignedly. 'A story about a bandit,' Jonathan put in excitedly. 'But not a horrid one! I like them to be good at the end,' he added virtuously. So Helen pulled up a chair between the two beds and composed a highly improbable adventure story, partly inspired by the sombreroed characters of the cruet set in the novelty shop. It concerned an extremely naughty Mexican bandit who, at the end, became a reformed character and dived into a raging torrent to save his friend from drowning. This seemed to satisfy Tobin without frightening Jonathan and the two children settled down. Jonathan was already drowsy as Helen dimmed the light and for a moment she paused, looking down at the small round face. How innocent, even angelic, he looked with those long dark lashes like a silken fringe against his softly flushed cheeks. It was hard to

remember what a little imp of mischief he could be in his waking hours. She was turning away when Tobin suddenly sprang up, threw his arms about her neck and gave her a swift and rather sticky kiss. Then, as swiftly, he disappeared beneath the sheets, leaving Helen feeling pleased and strangely touched, as though for the first time she had received a hint of the happiness she would feel when a child of her own would fling his chubby arms about her neck. She walked slowly down the stairs. Perhaps that day might never come, she told herself disconsolately. Her feelings for Mike were so confused and ambiguous! There was really no man in her life now, and the realisation filled her with a sense of failure and blank depression. As she entered the sitting-room Alice looked up with a smile. 'Obviously you've been wonderful with the children! That dreadful thumping stopped immediately, but I'm sure you're completely worn out.' 'I suppose I'd better be getting back to the flat,' Helen agreed. But as she passed through the deserted kitchen and came out into the yard, she hesitated. An enormous full moon cast an icy silver light over the surrounding countryside and she fancied she caught a whiff of the scent of roses from the bed of crimson velvety roses that Alice had planted when she first came to Ladyfields. Instead of crossing the yard, Helen opened the small latticed gate that led into the garden. It was such a beautiful night! Perhaps a stroll in the garden would help her to sort out her tangled thoughts. The silver moonlight seemed to cast on the garden an air of enchantment and Helen bent down and pressed her cheek against the cool fragrance of one of the half-open blossoms. The perfume

of these early summer flowers was quite different from that of the wide full-blown roses of midsummer, she decided, for she could distinctly smell the green, twiggy scent of the stem and leaves. She broke off a partly-opened bud and tucked it in her dress, and as she did so she realised that she was not alone. There was the sound of movement in the shrubbery, and the rustle of leaves as someone approached, and she felt uneasy at the realisation that an unseen presence had been watching her actions. Then a tall figure emerged from the shadows, and she gave a little sigh of relief as she saw it was Max Renton. 'So you like red roses!' he said. 'Not everyone does, although they're supposed to symbolise love!' Helen laughed a little awkwardly. 'I hadn't realised you were here. I thought I was alone.' He nodded. 'So I gathered! There's a bench set in an alcove in the shrubbery and I sometimes sit there and brood a bit, especially when I have a particularly awkward problem to solve. I hope,' he added gravely, 'that it wasn't a knotty problem that forced you to take a walk tonight.' He was teasing her, she knew, and she answered in the same vein. 'I haven't been here long enough to have problems. It was simply that I couldn't resist the roses.' 'Then you must have some more.' Swiftly he snapped off a bunch of the red velvet beauties and laid them in her arms. 'You must feel free to take anything you want from the garden. It will help to brighten that flat of yours.'

In a companionable silence they fell into step and began to stroll on the paved walks between the rose-beds. It seems you're very good with the twins. Alice has been singing your praises. But I think she's rather surprised. Apparently she expected you to come a cropper.' It was pleasant to bask in his approval and she stifled an impulse to tell him of the debacle in the novelty shop in Medhurst. 'Oh, it was nothing,' she said airily, and then made him laugh as she recounted how the twins had refused to listen to Little Red Riding Hood on the grounds that it was too old-fashioned, and had demanded a story about a bandit. 'That's all very well and good,' he said, 'but caring for the twins is not part of your duties. Ondine should have shouldered the responsibility, but she seems to do nothing to justify her existence but ride about on Samite.' 'Ondine's a strange, complex sort of girl,' Helen ventured. 'Strange and complex,' he agreed, 'but then what else could you expect from a girl with a name like Ondine?' 'It's an unusual, romantic name,' Helen remarked. 'Has it a story?' 'Ondine means a water-nymph. And the people of Venice like to think that their city was built by the sylphs and ondines. But it's also the name of the heroine of a story. Undine or Ondine is the story of a water-nymph who received a soul when she fell in love with a human being. As it is, Ondine is rather fey, rather out-ofthe-world. It seems to me it would do her a lot of good if she could care for someone other than herself—I mean really care, instead of being merely jealously possessive.'

But he didn't enlarge on this, and Helen was secretly thinking that Ondine bore little resemblance to a water- nymph. If anything, with her broad, muscular build, she resembled Diana, the huntress. 'I think it must be wonderful to have such a romantic name,' she remarked. 'You needn't envy Ondine,' he returned, 'for your own name is as romantic in its own way. Helen was the wife of Menelaus, King of Sparta in Greece. Her beauty was so famous that it was heard of in distant places such as the city of Troy, which was also called Ilium, across the Aegean Sea. Paris, the King's son, enticed her away from her husband. The Greeks went to war and a thousand war vessels set sail for Troy. For ten years the war went on until eventually Troy met its fate in flames—all because of the beauty of Helen.' And then he quoted softly: ' "Was this the face that launched a thousand ships And burnt the topless towers of Ilium. Sweet Helen, mike me immortal with a kiss."' Helen made a great play of rearranging the rosebuds on her arm. 'I must go now,' she said hurriedly. The conversation was taking a line that both enchanted and frightened her. She must not let her heart become enmeshed now, now that Mike had returned into her life! As she turned away, Max said quietly, 'May one ask who the mysterious stranger was, the one who gave the parting kiss? Or would that be too much of an impertinence?' 'Oh, just a man I used to know!' she replied airily. 'Not, by any chance, the man who jilted you?'

She stiffened. 'Why?' 'Oh, because I suppose you're like all women. Your vanity will be flattered by the thought that he's come back to pursue you. But let me warn you, if you fall for him again, you'll once again be involved in the same situation. You may be sure of that.' 'I can't imagine what makes you think I've fallen for him again,' she replied icily. 'But then I don't suppose you credit me with much sense, do you?' 'No woman has any sense where her heart is concerned.' 'That part of my life is over. Nothing could ever be the same again,' she told him unconvincingly. 'But is it over?' he asked quietly. 'Of course it is,' she replied. But it was not altogether true, she knew. In her heart she was still clinging to the past. She had even sent to Suzanne for her collection of dolls—something that would be a link with former days—and with Mike! She turned and almost ran from him, fearful that she might betray more than she intended. For now she knew that the past was not something that you could lightly push behind you. It bound you with chains even when you thought you had fled from it for ever.

CHAPTER FIVE THAT night Helen had gone to bed and was just dropping off to sleep when there was a ring at the doorbell which seemed to resound through the flat. She sat up, suddenly aware of how far away from the house the flat was. Perhaps the sensible thing to do would be not to answer the door. But curiosity overcame caution. She got up and switched on the light that shone on the stairs outside. Then she went to the sitting-room window, drew aside the corner of the curtain and peered out. There, outlined in the light, was Ondine in her dressing-gown. What could the girl want by visiting her at this time of the night? Helen wondered. Surely Ondine, eccentric as she was, had not chosen to call at this hour to continue her quarrel! Then she heard Ondine's voice sounding rather pathetic and lost. 'Open the door, Helen. I simply must speak to you.' The words held a note of desperation and Helen, reluctant as she felt for an encounter, knew that she simply couldn't turn her away. She opened the door and Ondine came in in a flurry. 'I just slipped across to say I'm sorry. I couldn't sleep a wink remembering the beastly things I said. But you see, I care so terribly about Jim!' As she saw the expression of distraction on Ondine's face, Helen felt her heart soften. 'I'll get you coffee,' she said. She slipped into the kitchen and put on the percolator. When she returned to the sitting-room she found Ondine crouched in one of the chairs.

'You are sweet, Helen,' she said. 'I felt I simply had to try to make things up with you. You see, I know I'm not an easy sort of person to get along with, but at the same time I don't keep things up. I'm truly sorry when I say such horrid things—sometimes almost as soon as the words are out of my mouth.' 'But what happened?' Helen asked, knowing that Ondine was now only too willing to discuss her affairs. 'It began almost as soon as Jim came to Medhurst,' Ondine said in a rush. 'Before that I'd never really cared for anyone—not until I met him and then it happened right away. You see, Samite went lame and we sent for the vet— a man who'd been at Medhurst for the past thirty years. But instead Jim came—it turned out he was the new assistant. Well, I must say I was pretty miffed. You know how much Samite means to me! I wasn't any too gracious, but when I saw how good Jim was with animals—well, I felt differently. Afterwards we had coffee together in the kitchen, just the two of us in the middle of the night. I made up some sandwiches out of bits and pieces and we drank out of odd mugs. It was fun; a sort of adventure for me. You see, we got to know each other right away: there was no breaking of the ice and I simply didn't have time to feel shy or awkward, or to remember how dreadful I must look in an old waterproof and Wellington boots. Right away it was as if we'd known each other all our lives—oh, that sounds a bit of a cliché, but it's true, you know. Afterwards, whenever we'd meet we'd go into one of the little cafes that are open in the Summer and have a coffee and talk a bit, and after a while he used to take me sometimes to the Golden Galleon. Then, when my birthday came, he took me to the Oast House for dinner. It was wonderful.' Ondine's voice dropped and a little tremble came into it as she said, 'I was so sure he was going to propose that evening, but instead, that was the very last time we ever went out together.'

'But why?' Helen asked in amazement. Ondine shook her head hopelessly. 'I simply don't know. It must have been something I said, I suppose, but -' Again she shook her head in a bewildered fashion. 'Oh, Helen, I simply don't know what happened. I'm not very clever with men, you see. He probably was growing tired 6f me, and I simply didn't realise it.' Helen got up, and on the pretext of going to the kitchen to fetch coffee, left the sitting-room. As she was putting cups on the tray and pouring hot, strong coffee suddenly there came into her mind Max's remark concerning Ondine, that it would do her a lot of good if she could care for someone other than herself instead of being merely jealously possessive. Could that have been what had caused the breach between Ondine and Jim? She could so easily imagine Ondine making it only too plain fairly early on that she expected a proposal on the first evening when he had invited her to dinner. Rushing things in her impetuous, wilful way! Poor Ondine! Too inexperienced in the ways of men, and too impulsive, to know that such behaviour would be sure to frighten him off! Ondine stirred her coffee slowly. 'You see, I felt so sure he was beginning to care, and it wasn't just wishful thinking.' Helen glanced across at the pudgy, troubled, still-childish face. 'Maybe that was it—he was only beginning to care,' she said gently. Ondine looked surprised. 'What do you mean?'

And Helen felt her heart sink as she thought that the girl across from her had no idea that if she had been more subtle in her approach she could probably have got what she wanted so badly. 'I suppose the man usually likes to be the hunter,' she hinted. 'You mean, I rushed things?' Ondine asked doubtfully. 'Well, maybe I did, but you don't know what it's like to be like me. You're so pretty, Helen. You must have had lots of men in love with you. But I'm plain and awkward and I'm not attractive to men. And that's why when Jim cared for me it meant such an awful lot.' Ondine did not notice the shade of bitterness that crossed Helen's face as she spoke of her prettiness and her attractiveness to men. Little did Ondine know that the man she had loved so much has casually thrown her over at Suzanne's first sign of encouragement! Oh, it was true that Mike now regretted the affair, but would she ever be able to think of him in the same way again? Would she herself ever really be the same again? What Mike and Suzanne had done to her had scarred her self-confidence—something that perhaps time would heal—or perhaps it had gone too deep ever to be effaced! 'But why am I saying all this to you? I suppose you must think I'm an awful fool,' Ondine went on, putting down her coffee cup with a little crash on its saucer. Her young face was sullen and Helen felt a growing pity for her. 'Don't feel bad about giving me your confidence,' she said gently. 'You see, I know only too well how you feel, because something very nearly the same happened to me! for a while, I too lost the man I loved. I know he regrets it now. But nothing can take away the heartache.'

'Well, Jim doesn't regret it,' said Ondine, the sullen look returning to her face. 'He's been out with other girls since, and now it looks as if he's making a play for you.' Helen sighed. 'Really, Ondine, how can you be so silly?'. And she recounted how Jim had hurt his hand on the fan of his car and how she had insisted on bandaging it for him. When she had finished, Ondine's eyes were bright. 'Thanks for telling me, Helen!' she said earnestly. 'I feel ever so much better. I'm sorry now I was so horrid to Jim today, but of course I hadn't an idea of what had happened. And thanks for telling me about what happened to you. It makes a sort of bond between us, now that I know you really do understand. It makes me feel I can always come up and talk things over with you.' Helen could hardly suppress her exasperation. They were both girls who had been let down by the men they loved, she was thinking. If this was to make a bond between them, then it was a bitter and humiliating thought! How like Ondine in her crude and selfish way to express it like this! Nor did Helen look forward to the future. Did Ondine intend to make a sort of mother-figure of her, and confide in her all the affairs she got involved in? But Ondine, totally wrapped up in her own problems, stopped in the doorway to say thoughtfully, 'So you too think I was too pushy! You know, Helen, Max said that to me at the time, but I didn't believe him. I felt he couldn't possibly understand. You see, Corina is so mad about him. He's a person who never has to exert himself where women are concerned, and I felt he couldn't possibly understand what things were like for me where Jim was concerned. But I must say Max was wonderfully loyal to me, whatever he thought. He showed Jim he was no longer welcome—

as a friend, that is, because Max always has Jim to take care of the animals. He's by far the best vet for miles around, and Max is fair enough to admit that.' When at last Ondine took her departure Helen switched off the lights. This interview with Ondine, exhausting as it had been, had thrown new light on Max's character. Tiresome as Ondine could be, yet Max had taken her part. Grudgingly Helen conceded that at least this was in his favour. On the following morning when Helen went to the study, she found Max eyeing her closely. 'You're tired!' he pronounced. 'No, not really!' she said unconvincingly, because her eyelids were heavy and she felt weary and out of sorts. 'Yes, you are tired,' he insisted. 'There are blue shadows under your eyes. And no wonder! Ondine didn't leave until nearly two o'clock in the morning.' 'How do you know?' she began, before remembering that he had probably been working late and that the window of his study was right opposite the flat. 'I saw the light go on outside the flat and Ondine go in,' he said. 'I suppose she was telling you all her troubles.' 'We talked,' she said evasively, determined not to betray Ondine's confidence. 'You talked. And I think I know what you talked about. But don't take Ondine too seriously. I think that's one of your problems, isn't it?' 'What do you mean?' she asked.

'I mean you're the sort of person who shoulders other people's worries. But, as I said, don't take Ondine too seriously. She's completely self-engrossed and has obviously worn you out with her revelations. I suggest you take part of today off. I have to see about renovations on one of the farms and you can come along for the ride.' She hesitated for a moment. The suggestion definitely appealed to her. In fact she felt a little dismayed at the surge of happiness she felt at the idea of spending the day in his company. 'Well,' he smiled, 'you seem doubtful. But perhaps you're a glutton for work. Well, if that's the way you want it, I won't insist.' 'But I'd love to go,' she said hastily, suddenly fearful that he would drop the whole idea. 'All right then, that's settled! But I think you'd better pop over and get a coat of some sort. The farm's on the edge of Romney Marsh, very bleak and sinister. But I expect you'll find it highly romantic.' 'Probably not! I'm much more practical and down-to- earth than you imagine.' Later, when she had joined him at the car, the twins appeared. They were trailing after Ondine, who was looking anything but pleased at their company. The children were instantly diverted as they saw Max and Helen get into the car. 'Where are you going?' they clamoured. 'May we go too?' 'Most certainly not,' Max told them.

Ondine hesitated and frowned suspiciously, 'You're not leaving me with these two kids, are you?' 'And why not?' Max countered. 'I'm not going to be stuck here all day with these awful brats, you know.' 'We're not brats,' Tobin told her indignantly. 'That's a fib, Ondine, and you know it is.' 'Yes, like the time you said we were monsters, and that was a naughty fib too,' Jonathan put in reproachfully. 'And why shouldn't you take care of them?' Max demanded. 'Anyway, why can't they play in the garden for a few hours?' 'You know perfectly well if they're left alone in the garden they'll get up to the most appalling mischief,' Ondine returned sulkily. 'I don't see why you can't take them with you.' 'Because I'm going on business to a farm and I've no intention of having them hanging around making a nuisance of themselves.' 'You're going to a farm,' Tobin exclaimed brightly. 'But we'd love that, wouldn't we, Jonathan?' 'Oh yes.' Jonathan nodded vigorously. 'Tobin and I are naturelovers, you know.' 'Well, you can do your nature-loving here,' Max told them disagreeably, as he prepared to drive off. Helen saw the eager look fade from their bright faces at the adamant tone of his voice.

Jonathan turned big appealing eyes in her direction. 'You'd like us to come, wouldn't you?' he coaxed. She hesitated. It was hard to resist the twins when they were in their most wheedling moods. Apart from that, she realised she was far too happy at the prospect of spending the day with Max. She must build a wall around her too vulnerable heart. The presence of the twins, voluble and high-spirited, would manage very effectively to eradicate any sense of intimacy between them. 'Let's take them with us,' she said impulsively. 'What?' She saw him stare at her in surprise. 'Do you really want them?' She nodded. 'Yes, I'd like them to come.' He hesitated a moment, then said, a little grimly, 'Well, if that's what you want! I only hope you don't live to regret it.' The twins instantly revived, like drooping flowers after a cool shower of rain. They jumped up and down excitedly. 'We'll be very good! As good as gold!' they chorused. 'Oh, very well!' Max leaned back and opened one of the doors. 'Hop in. But if I hear as much as a squeak out of either of you, I'll dump you on the road.' The twins giggled delightedly at this dire threat and scrambled in with alacrity. They sat demurely on the edge of the back seat. 'Where are you going anyway?' Ondine asked curiously, sticking her head in at the window.

'I'm taking Helen to Kirkby's place.' 'Well, rather you than me,' Ondine told Helen, as she withdrew her head, all interest in the expedition evaporated. 'I can't imagine a drearier or more desolate place than the Marsh.' It was clear that the twins didn't share Ondine's attitude. 'Oh, the Marsh!' they exclaimed delightedly. 'We can play at being smugglers.' 'And what are you going to be today?' Max asked as they drove off. 'Owlers or Blues?' 'Blues,' Tobin replied instantly, 'And I'm going to be Captain Batts. And slip away through the mists of the Marsh,' he added in a sepulchral voice. 'You'll do nothing of the sort!' Max informed him grimly. 'I was only saying that!' Tobin exclaimed. 'It's a lovely clear day.' 'Clear or otherwise, we'll keep this game strictly to the imagination,' Max said sharply. He glanced at Helen. 'We could lose these two in just a few minutes in the wastes that begin just beyond the Kirkby place.' 'Owlers and Blues! I'm afraid it's all double Dutch as far as I'm concerned,' Helen told him. 'The Owlers were the very early smugglers on the Marsh,' Max told her. 'The Blues got their name because they used blue lights as signals. Their leader was the dashing Captain Batts—a suitable name under the circumstances, I think.'

'It's very exciting being a smuggler,' Jonathan pronounced gravely. 'I'd have been a smuggler, if I'd lived long ago.' 'And you needn't have lived so very long ago at that!' Max told him. 'It still went on in Victorian days. It seems to me the ladies weren't nearly as prim as they are reputed to have been. In those days they would smuggle in brandy under their crinolines.' Helen burst out laughing. She suddenly felt happy and relaxed. She sat back and let the warm Summer air eddy through her hair. She cast a sidelong glance at Max. His eyes were firmly fixed on the road ahead and he was humming softly under his breath and she suddenly realised that he too was enjoying this drive through winding lanes and cosy villages, the cottage gardens bursting with a riot of blossom. For the rest of the journey Max regaled the twins with tales of the daring exploits of Captain Batts and the story of his great running fight across the marshes against Captain Joe McCulloch of the coast blockade. How many of these thrilling tales were true or legendary, and how many of them Max made up on the spur of the moment, Helen could not tell. But the twins were enthralled and this was obviously proving to be a red-letter day for them. As Helen listened she was struck by how kindly Max was to the twins, good-humouredly putting himself out to make this a happy outing. As they drew near to the farm Helen was delighted to see how the surrounding countryside was carpeted with wild- flowers. The farm seemed snug and cosy, but Helen wondered what it would be like to live here when the mists of autumn and the cold, icy winds of winter blew through the long grasses, and there was nothing to

be seen but the great semicircle of the horizon far away across the flat lands. On this summer morning the stone-built house looked secure and sturdy, well able to withstand all sorts of weather. But it had, Helen thought, a curious effect of hunching itself against the elements, for the vast extent of marshy ground intersected by channels and dykes was intimidating and even faintly sinister. The farmer's wife gave them a hearty welcome, evidently delighted at their arrival. After a few moments she told the boys that a clutch of chickens had just hatched out in the incubator. Would they like to see them? Instantly the twins were all enthusiasm. 'How many are there?' they asked eagerly. Max glanced at Mrs Kirkby. 'Now how shall we count them? Let's say, "Ickham, pickham, Penny Wickham, Cockalorum jay."' The farmer's wife joined in and they finished the old Kentish counting rhyme together, "Eggs, butter, cheese, bread, Hich, stick, stone dead."' 'Now off you go, and remember to behave yourselves!' Max admonished the boys when the laughter had died away. Helen accompanied the twins as Mrs Kirkby brought them to see the chickens while Max went off to discuss repairs to a wall with

the farmer. Then Mrs Kirkby took Helen and the twins into the kitchen and, slicing homemade bread, made up delicious mutton sandwiches which the twins devoured with enthusiasm, washing them down with fresh milk. When Max returned to the kitchen with Mr Kirkby he surveyed them for a moment, then said, 'I might have known the twins would begin eating at the first opportunity !' 'The sandwiches are delicious,' Helen remarked to Mrs Kirkby. 'I've never tasted mutton like this.' 'The Romney Marsh sheep are pretty special!' Max remarked. 'You see,' he added to Helen, 'the salt in the Marsh gives that certain something to the meat.' Mrs Kirkby immediately set about preparing a fresh batch of sandwiches, and brewed more tea in the large brown pot. 'I've never seen a yellow hen,' Jonathan said thoughtfully, as he reached for another sandwich. As the farmer's wife looked puzzled, he said, 'They're all yellow chicks, aren't they? They must look funny when they're grown up.' Mrs Kirkby burst out laughing, 'Oh, but the yellow feathers will fall out and red feathers will come in their place.' 'They're going to be red hens,' Tobin exclaimed delighted. 'Well, bronze really,' said Mrs Kirkby. 'When they're fully grown they'll be a very pretty russet sort of colour.' 'I'd like to see them,' Jonathan said regretfully, 'but when Mummy and Daddy come back we'll have to go home.'

'Then you must make sure to come back again before you go home,' the farmer said hospitably. And as his wife joined in warmly in the invitation, the twins appealed to Max. 'May we?' they begged. 'Well -' he hesitated, smiling. Then, as the twins became more vehement, he agreed. 'It's a promise, isn't it, Uncle Max?' Jonathan asked very solemnly. 'It's a promise,' he agreed, and the twins, satisfied, applied themselves to polishing off the apple tart with cream which Mrs Kirkby had supplied for 'afters'. Sated at last, they climbed down from their seats and scurried through the door and for a while Helen forgot about them, because Max and the farmer were involved in a business discussion which she listened to attentively. If she were able to understand die practical side of Max's work the letters and memos she typed so assiduously would not appear so incomprehensible. It was when they were about to leave that they discovered the twins were missing. Mrs Kirkby looked for them in the yard and outhouses and when she returned to the kitchen with the news that they were nowhere to be seen, Helen saw Max's face set grimly. Their eyes met and the same thought struck them—so the twins had decided to re-enact some of the exploits of Captain Batts and had strayed on to forbidden territory! Helen felt a little crawling chill of fear as she saw that the farmer was taking their disappearance seriously. He exchanged a few words with his wife in a tone too low for Helen to overhear and then, with Max, he strode out of the kitchen.

Helen sank into the wooden armchair which Mrs Kirkby pushed towards the fire. But when the farmer's wife offered her the usual panacea, a hot, strong cup of tea, Helen found that her appetite had completely fled. As she stared into the red glowing heart of the fire, she fought to prevent her imagination running riot. She must not let herself picture the twins lost in one of those dark sinister channels that snaked through the sodden marshes. Her first niggling sense of alarm had grown to intolerable fear when the kitchen door burst open, and Max appeared with a sheepish Tobin. Tobin was wet and muddy and informed them that he had slipped into a pool in the marsh outside the boundaries of the farm. Jonathan followed with Mr Kirkby. He, however, was unscathed and appeared to have thoroughly enjoyed their adventure. 'I helped to pull Tobin out, didn't I, Mr Kirkby?' he demanded shrilly, then stopped suddenly as he received a withering glance from Max. 'Do you think you could help me to get this young villain dried off?' Max asked Mrs Kirkby, who hurried forward, her usually placid face full of concern. 'As luck would have it,' she exclaimed, 'I have some of my grandchildren's clothes. They left them behind when they visited us at Easter, and one of the suits should fit Tobin to a T. But first we'll get him dry.' In spite of Max's hardly suppressed wrath, it was clear that Tobin was thoroughly enjoying being the centre of attention. He was not the smallest bit contrite, and in fact seemed delighted at the novelty of being dressed in clothes belonging to one of the Kirkby's grandchildren.

When at last they drove away, sated with adventure and Mrs Kirkby's mutton sandwiches, they curled up like puppies on the back seat, and were soon fast asleep. 'I should have known better than to bring them!' Max grated. 'We've been nothing but a nuisance to the Kirkbys. And it was the merest chance that Tobin wasn't drowned. Luckily we've had a long spell of dry weather and the Marsh was not at its most virulent. All the same, we might have searched for ages without finding them. Even people very experienced in the marshes can come to grief if there's the slightest carelessness. Well, that's the last time I bring the twins in this direction!' Helen glanced at his grim profile. Once more he was the brusque stranger of her first interview; a man with no discernible soft spots. 'You don't really like children!' she accused. He glanced at her. 'So you think I'm too harsh; is that it?' 'Yes, I think you're intolerant. You don't understand children. You're not going to make any effort to get under their skin.' 'I understand them, all too well,' he replied dryly, for I was a bit like Tobin myself at his age, reckless and adventurous, with no idea of the dangers into which I was running. Yes, as a matter of fact, Tobin and I have quite a lot in common! And Jonathan's quite as bad in his own way! He's more than willing to follow Tobin in any scrape. In fact, the pair of them make an explosive combination!' Helen's face was rebellious. 'But you promised you'd take them back! And a promise to a child should never be broken.' 'Not even when it's for their own good?' he asked ironically.

Helen sat in silence, her face stiff with resentment. Her thoughts were in confusion. Why should it matter so dreadfully that he should keep his promise to the children? Was it because she hated the thought that Max had reverted to his original implacable character? It was hard to remember that this was the same man who had recited that ridiculous counting rhyme amidst the twins' shrieks of laughter. He glanced at her. 'Don't let's quarrel, Helen. And we shall certainly do that if you begin arguing with me about what's best for the twins.' But she was not to be placated. 'I shouldn't have spoken about it. After all, it's none of my business.' But if she had thought he was going to contradict her, she was mistaken. 'Very well then! Let's change the subject. What do you think of the Kirkbys' way of life? Who knows, perhaps you'll marry a farmer and settle down there on the Marshes.' 'Oh no, I certainly shan't,' Helen told him firmly. 'Not even if you were very much in love with him?' 'I can't imagine love surviving the winters there. There's nothing of the pioneering woman about me. I'd simply hate it.' 'So love would fly out of the window when the mists came over the Marshes,' he smiled. 'Exactly,' she nodded.

'I suspect there's more of the pioneering woman in your make-up than you realise, Helen.' 'What's a pioneering woman?' came Jonathan's sleepy inquiry. And Helen turned to discover that he had awakened and was immediately all curiosity. 'Never you mind!' Max told him as they drove through Medhurst. 'Then it must be a naughty word,' Jonathan said severely. Max and Helen burst into laughter, and immediately the antagonism that had grown between them seemed to evaporate. Tobin was awake now too and the twins sat with their faces pressed against the window. As they approached the gates of Ladyfields a long yellow rakish car drove out. The twins waved energetically at the driver. 'There's the nice man who bought us the ice-cream!' they shouted excitedly. And Helen, following their gaze, saw that Mike Kendall was at the wheel of the other car. He came to an abrupt stop as his eyes fell on the children and moved from them to her. Max drew up too. 'Well, why don't you pop out and have a chat with your friend?' he said. 'We'll wait for you.'

CHAPTER SIX HELEN had no particular desire for a chat with Mike. But, on the other hand, she had the feminine wish to show Max that there was a man in her life. Mike rolled down the window as she approached. 'Where on earth have you been?' he asked rather peevishly. 'I've been waiting ages.' 'I'm sorry, Mike,' she said stiffly, 'but you don't really expect me to sit at home until you condescend to call, do you?' She had the satisfaction of seeing him look rather startled. 'Ah, but wait till you see what I've brought you,' he said mysteriously, and reaching into the back seat he picked up a large box and passed it to her. 'These are the dolls. I had a sticky time trying to get Suzanne to part with them—she seems to have taken them all to her heart. But I talked to her like a Dutch uncle and in the end she coughed them up— very reluctantly, however. And now, aren't you sorry you were so nasty to Uncle Mike?' he concluded banteringly. 'Oh, Mike, I'm so glad!' Helen glowed. 'I had the feeling Suzanne mightn't part with them. I'm simply delighted.' 'In that case, I've the right to claim a reward.' 'What sort?' she asked warily. 'Nothing very horrible! Simply that you'll have dinner with me next week.' She hesitated, and his eyes narrowed. 'But then perhaps you're not sufficiently grateful,' he said dryly.

'Oh, but I'd love it, Mike,' she put in quickly. But there was a reservation in the back of her mind. Did she really want to get seriously involved with Mike again? She was quite prepared to meet him as an amusing companion, but this was obviously not what he intended. This was Mike's idea of 'patching thing's up' between them, as he put it. But did she really want things patched up? Perhaps now was the time to let him know that in future they must meet on a different footing. But she had no time even to hint at this. 'This day week, then,' Mike was saying, as though suspecting her intention. He revved up and roared off towards Medhurst. Helen walked back to the car, the big parcel clasped in her arms. The incident had taken only a few minutes. 'What's in the parcel?' the twins chorused. 'That's none of your business,' Max told them sternly. 'Dolls,' Helen told them. 'Dolls!' they echoed. 'But only little girls play with dolls,' Tobin protested. 'Yes, and you're a grown-up lady!' Jonathan pointed out. 'These are sort of dolls for grown-ups,' Helen was beginning, realising that the twins' literal minds made explanation a complicated matter. Then Max's deep voice broke in as he drove through the gates and turned towards the Lodge. 'You have a lot to learn about grown-

ups,' he told the twins. 'You see, there are some women who are little girls all their lives. They need dolls to play with, even when they seem to be quite grownup, because they keep looking back to the past.' There could be no mistaking the sardonic tone in his voice. So Max had assumed that she had fallen for Mike again! Perhaps, watching them, he had imagined that they were on better terms than they actually were. But it wasn't like that, she told herself. It was true she had agreed to meet Mike on the following week, but then it would have been difficult to get out of it, considering the efforts he had made to prise the dolls from Suzanne's acquisitive hands. Mike rang her to arrange a time and when he arrived to pick her up she was ready in the most glamorous outfit she possessed. She was glad she had taken trouble over her appearance when she found they were to dine at the Oast House, a quaint old building which at one time had been used for hop-drying, but which had been converted to become a fashionable restaurant. It was situated on the road between Medhurst and London, and Helen found herself mixing with a fashionably and expensively dressed crowd. Mike put himself out to amuse her, but she found she couldn't respond. She could not feel about him as she had once done when she had had the uncritical attitude of a young girl, in love for the first time. Perhaps something had died in her heart. Perhaps she would never again feel as she had done in those breathless moments of what had been for her a first-ever love affair. Not that Mike seemed to be aware of her attitude. As the meal drew to a close it was clear that he seemed to think he had succeeded in restoring things between them to their old footing.

But as far as she was concerned, it was as if a precious vase had been shattered. The pieces might be gathered together and the vase skilfully repaired, yet never again would it have its first breathtaking beauty. Yet she knew she enjoyed Mike's company. It was fun to be out with him, and there was the added satisfaction of being with a man so handsome. She was honest enough with herself to know she was looking her best, and that they made a striking couple, and she was not surprised that heads were turned in the direction of their table. Afterwards, when they were strolling back to Mike's car, Helen was surprised to hear a friendly voice call, 'Hello, Helen!' It was Corina and she was leaning out of her car, smiling pleasantly. As they drew near, she said brightly, 'Won't you introduce me to your friend?' And she looked up at Mike with her sophisticated smile. So Mike was the attraction! Helen was thinking as she introduced them. Corina would probably have avoided this meeting had Mike not been with her, she was thinking acidly. But Mike was so handsome, and had such an air of a man who was going somewhere, that Corina found this a challenge. Every handsome man was a challenge to her. In a few moments Helen found herself rather relegated to the background as Mike towered over Corina's low sports car, chatting animatedly with her. Corina was asking him what he did, and Mike was telling her that his interest was interior decorating. Instantly Corina began to tell him that she was determined to have Ladyfields House redecorated. 'Daddy is such an old fuddy-duddy,' she was saying indulgently. 'He actually likes it as it is, whereas, as far as I'm concerned, it's

perfectly ghastly; full of grotty old antiques simply gathering dust!' And Corina shuddered elaborately. 'But, Mike, I'm sure you'd see such possibilities in it, if you looked it over.' Already they were on intimate terms, for Corina belonged to a world where instant friendships were formed. He glanced at Helen. 'I could make a few suggestions— for what they're worth,' he said a little awkwardly. 'You'll love the drawing-room, Mike. It's L-shaped, and I'm sure you could do marvellous things with it,' Corina was saying. 'Of course—any time,' he agreed readily. 'Why not now?' she asked swiftly. 'Well -' he hesitated. 'Oh, do, Mike,' Corina begged. 'I've absolutely nothing to do. I'm quite at a loose end. After all, you'll be driving Helen back to Ladyfields. What's to stop you coming into the house for a little, before you return to the Lodge?' Helen found that Mike was regarding her hopefully. 'It needn't take long, and I'm sure you'd be interested -' he began. Helen read the plea in his eyes and agreed. So it was that shortly afterwards she found herself in the car with Mike, while Corina drove ahead in her own car. 'You know, Helen, I've the feeling that tonight I've struck oil,' Mike was saying. 'Fancy my being given the job of doing over the

Manville house! And believe me, if I don't get the commission, it won't be for want of trying!' As the tour of the house began it became only too clear what he meant, for he danced attention on Corina. What was not so clear was why Corina was anxious to have Mike's suggestions, because it soon became apparent that she had very definite ideas of what she wanted. 'Dark chocolate curtains, of course,' she was saying, 'and the chairs upholstered in the palest possible shade of maize, and just here a single flash of peacock blue as an eye- catcher !' Mike, who had previously suggested maroon and dark grey, instantly agreed that this was a much better idea. Helen, as she trekked from room to room in their wake had the curious feeling that she had been in this situation before. It was impossible, of course. But, as she saw his look of open admiration and his deferential manner towards Corina, it struck her that Mike was a man who would always be attracted by the successful. Corina's beauty, and the aura of wealth that surrounded her, drew him like a magnet. Instantly she herself had been relegated to the background. Was Mike on the point of throwing her over for Corina, just as he had thrown her over for Suzanne? And did he imagine that when Corina grew tired of him, he could come running back to her once more? Helen turned away, walked swiftly across the wide hall of Ladyfields House and went out into the summer evening, conscious that Mike and Corina were continuing their inspection of the house, unaware that she was no longer with them. It was a beautiful evening, the trees in their freshest green. She took the long way back to the Lodge. It was a path that brought her

through a lovely little copse of young birch trees, and as she approached the house she heard a strange sound which turned out to be that of an axe biting into wood. She moved forward and could now see a tall, broad-shouldered man dressed in the colourful checked mackinaw shirt which she recognised from pictures she had seen of loggers in the Canadian woods. The man was swinging an axe with deceptive ease as he chopped logs. She drew to a halt, feeling startled and surprised, for she recognised the figure as that of Max. Somehow she had not imagined him in the role of the outdoor man. But now it was easy to visualise him in more primitive surroundings, able to fend for himself in the vast spaces of Canada, to hunt and fish, even to provide shelter if need be with his own hands. She was suddenly aware of him, as she had not been before, and wished he had not turned to face her just at that moment. He tossed the axe on to a pile of newly cut logs. 'You seem startled,' he remarked. 'I—I didn't recognise you at first,' she admitted, trying to sound casual. 'Somehow you look different! It's probably the clothes.' He nodded. 'Probably the clothes,' he repeated. She wondered if she detected a hint of mockery in his voice. 'I know, at any rate, when I do this, it reminds me of the days I spent in Canada, and I forget for a moment that I'm not surrounded by thousands of acres of rolling prairie and forest. You see, ranching in Canada is very different from farming in Kent. There you have to come to grips with nature, if you want to survive. In a country the size of Europe, with a population comparatively small, you have to be independent

and strong.' He spoke swiftly—almost roughly—as if to blot out any hint of regret. 'You were happy there?' Helen ventured. He gazed at tie ground, frowning, 'As happy, I suppose, as a man can be when he's alone, without roots or family.' Had Aunt Alice been right? Helen wondered. Had Max returned to England because the future seemed bleak and pointless without marriage and a permanent home? Had he left, perhaps, because he wanted to break an emotional tie? In either case, it was typical of him that once he had made up his mind, he had cut the traces and had started afresh. Helen was silent, not realising how eagerly she waited for an explanation. Looking up, Max said suddenly, 'I've no intention of boring you with the story of my misspent youth. What about yourself? What have you been up to?' He had smiled and for the first time she realised how very white his teeth were against his tanned skin. He spread his jacket along the broad trunk of a tree which was lying on the ground, seated himself and patted the space beside him. 'Come here. I want to know how you spent the evening. I see your escort isn't with you. Don't tell me you're all on your own and that your swain has deserted you already for the bright lights?' 'No, he hasn't gone back to London,' she said evasively. He raised his eyebrows. 'Then what are you doing, wandering about on your own? I should have thought he'd have been dancing attendance on you. After all, he has a lot of ground to make up. He

should be paying you compliments, and generally muttering sweet nothings into your ear.' 'You seem to have a very low opinion of the type of conversation I enjoy,' she said crossly. 'Not really! I admit that too many years in the wilds of Canada have not turned me into a ladies' man. Now, am I forgiven?' Helen nodded a little primly and sat down on the log beside him. 'I had dinner with Mike at the Oast House, and when we came out, we met Corina -' She hesitated. How mortifying to have to describe Corina's quick conquest of Mike! She decided to treat the whole sorry matter in as flippant a manner as possible. 'Well, to cut a long story short, Corina discovered that Mike is an interior decorator and she invited him—and me too, of course—to Ladyfields House to look it over.' She shrugged. 'Of course, it was a stroke of luck for Mike, the sort of job he loves, with plenty of space to work on, and -' 'And an unlimited stream of money,' Max put in dryly. 'Corina wants only the best. And naturally Mike's pleased that he will be able to splurge and not have to scrimp and save, or to cut corners.' 'Naturally!' he repeated. 'You don't like him, do you?' she accused. 'That young man doesn't interest me one way or the other! But, as you are my secretary, I feel a certain proprietorial interest in your welfare, and it seems to me he's not exactly playing the game.

After the big reconciliation scene I should have thought he'd be hovering around waiting for a gracious word to spill from your lips. Instead, I suspect, he and Corina formed a cosy twosome and that you found yourself odd-man-out and decided not to play gooseberry.' 'Nothing of the sort!' she said quickly. 'It was simply— well—I realised that Mike and Corina wanted to speak business, and I know nothing whatsoever about interior decoration. I had nothing to contribute to the conversation. And then, Mike is ambitious and this is a wonderful opportunity for him. I didn't want to spoil things by sticking my oar in. I'm frightfully happy for him.' 'Are you? You don't look particularly happy to me.' 'You're completely mistaken,' she said swiftly. 'Mike would never—would never -' She had been about to say, would never let me down again. But she hesitated, remembering how he had looked at Corina. Mike was in love with success and wealth, she was thinking. Women who had the forthright, commanding manner of Suzanne and Corina would always attract him, and in Corina's case there was the added fascination of her wonderful beauty and privileged background. 'You're in love with him still,' he remarked quietly. 'No matter how he treats you, it won't make any difference. What fools women can make of themselves when it comes to a man!' There was something in the tone of his voice that put her on the defensive. 'It's not like that at all,' she protested. 'It's—well, I'm confused, I suppose. But I'm certainly not going to spring to any wild conclusions, simply because Mike is ambitious and is cultivating a prospective client.'

'So you don't know how you feel! In other words, you admit that your heart rules your head. It's not an admission you should be particularly proud of, you know.' 'Well, I for one prefer it to the other way around,' she said hotly. 'Why must you sound so—so superior—as if you knew all the answers?' This was no way to be speaking to her boss, she realised, but somehow it didn't seem to matter. Max was completely unperturbed by this outburst. 'You know, Helen,' he said quietly, 'this evening you asked me why I did— this.' His hand indicated the pile of logs with the shining axe on top. 'Perhaps the answer is that I came out here to think something over. I've found when one is doing simple things like logging, or fishing, one's thoughts seem to run clearer. It's as though all the knots were ironed out, and it's much easier to make decisions then.' 'I'm afraid I shouldn't be much good at logging—or fishing, for that matter,' she said a little wryly. 'Perhaps not,' he agreed, 'but why not treat your time here as a sort of holiday? Make no efforts; make no decisions now! Let life swim by you, and you'll find in its own good time all your problems will fall into place.' His eyes gazed into hers, level and grave and she had the feeling that here was a man on whose broad shoulders one could lay one's problems, and worries; a man whose strong hands would be able to smooth out all the complexities of life. In the silence that followed came the sound of a car driving along the avenue, and a moment later the bang of a car door and Corina's voice as she talked gaily to Mike.

'This sounds like your erring beau,' Max said dryly, as he stood up. 'I suppose it's time we were going.' They walked around the side of the house together and Helen was surprised how disappointed she felt that her conversation with Max was so swiftly over. Corina, her hand tucked into Mike's arm, was walking towards the house, and Helen got the distinct impression that as her eyes fell on them, Corina was taken aback at finding them together. Her eyes moved swiftly between them. 'Well, and what have you two been up to?' she demanded, with an air of spurious gaiety. 'I don't know what Helen has been up to,' Max replied easily, 'but as for me, I've been engaged in some honest work. I've been chopping wood.' 'Chopping wood!' Corina trilled in her high light voice. 'Imagine you Max, of all people, chopping wood! Still I suppose it makes a change from being waited on hand and foot by adoring females.' And here her eyes moved very deliberately towards Helen. There was an instant's silence and then Corina rushed on, 'Max, the most wonderful thing has happened. It seems that Mike is an interior designer and, would you believe it, he has agreed to do over Ladyfields. Such an extraordinary coincidence that I happened to meet him just when I was planning all sorts of changes to that old mausoleum of a house! But I forgot, you don't know each other, do you?' 'Not officially,' Max agreed gravely. 'Although we have had some near misses in the past.' 'Really, Max you are in the strangest mood!' Corina trilled.

As she introduced the two men. Helen noticed Corina's air of almost feverish excitement. It puzzled her because she knew Corina to be a sophisticated woman of the world and knew that the idea of having Ladyfields House completely redecorated would hardly account for her brittle and artificial manner. Then the reason was made quite clear as Corina continued, 'Now would you believe it, Max darling, Mike has promised to do everything at the double, so I'm insisting he move into the house as our guest until the work is completed.' Her eyes searched Max's face eagerly, as though watching for his reactions. So she was trying to make Max jealous! Helen thought with surprise. 'And how does your father feel about this arrangement— or haven't you consulted him?' Max asked dryly. Corina shrugged and gave her high tinkling laugh. 'Oh, I haven't spoken to Daddy yet, but you may be sure he'll agree. He knows how frightfully keen I am on modernising the house, and I admit he rather spoils me. Anyway, I'm not at all worried as far as Daddy's concerned. I can wind him round my little finger, you know.' 'Just as you do all men!' Max replied enigmatically. And Helen, listening intently to this little passage of arms, thought she detected a trace of bitterness in his voice. He loves her! she thought. He knows her faults, but in spite of them, he can't resist her. And the thought brought with it a strange little pang. She felt ashamed and faintly contemptuous as she saw how thrilled Mike was by the commission. And the fact that Corina had as good as made it a condition that he stay at Ladyfields House and dance

attendance on her for the next few months seemed to be an added boost to his ego. Corina with her hand on Mike's arm drew closer to him and gazed up into his face. 'I'm going to see Daddy does the fair thing by you, Mike. He's not really mean, you know, but he's a business man and simply loves getting the better of people where money's concerned. But I'm going to demand that you get a fine fat fee.' Mike, Helen noticed, had the grace to look faintly embarrassed. It was typical of Corina to express herself without the slightest attempt to gloss over the fact she was doing him a favour. She was used to speaking her mind and getting away with it, and would certainly not spare a thought for Mike's feelings. But then Mike seemed content to put up with it! Helen thought. He was getting what he wanted, and was prepared to swallow his pride. He didn't reply, but his eyes met Helen's for a moment in a look of sheepish appeal. 'And Helen, my dear,' Corina went on, 'you needn't worry that I'm going to monopolise your boy-friend. He'll have plenty of opportunity of slipping down to your dear little flat and having a cosy chat with you.' Corina laughed slightly to show that this was in girlish fun, and Mike joined in sycophantically. But Helen felt that whatever Corina might say she was not the sort of woman to share a man. There could be no doubt that Corina was attracted by Mike's smooth good looks, and by his light sophisticated line in conversation. But Helen didn't doubt that her main motive in engaging Mike and in insisting that he stay at Ladyfields House during the business of redecoration, was a none too subtle attempt to make Max jealous.

As the weeks passed Helen found that what she had suspected was only too true, because she very seldom saw Mike. In fact, she often told herself bitterly, he might as well be living in London for all she saw of him. Often when she was returning from the village the smart yellow car would speed past along the avenue. More often than not Corina would be sitting beside him and he would make no attempt to stop for a chat, but with a quick wave of his hand, would drive on towards Ladyfields House. It was plain to see he was in his element, travelling up to London for samples of materials, or eagerly searching the surrounding antique shops to pick up some special item he had set his heart on. It was obvious that he revelled in his new job. It was lucky for her that she no longer cared deeply for Mike, Helen was thinking, or she would have been grievously hurt by this second betrayal. He had travelled to Medhurst, had pleaded with her to forgive him and to renew their old association! How fortunate that some warning note had rung in her heart and she had not allowed herself to fall a second time! As it was, her pride was now suffering a blow, but her heart was no longer capable of being seared by the bitter pain she had suffered when he had first flung her over. Not that she believed that Mike had truly fallen for Corina. For, if Mike was capable of loving anyone but himself, it was she he had loved. But he cared more deeply for wealth and privilege and position. It came natural to him to pay court to any rich woman who would further his ambitions. Had she been foolish enough to marry him, this was the sort of experience she would have had to face over and over again. But life for her was fairly lonely.

She began quite to look forward to the time she spent with the twins. Ondine on every possible occasion dumped them on her and flew off about her business. But Helen did not mind! She found that the twins' quaint sayings and liveliness kept her amused. On other days she would while away her leisure time by strolling into Medhurst and popping in upon Mrs Jarvis or Jean.

CHAPTER SEVEN As summer passed Helen noticed half absently that Jean was looking more and more smart. Helen met her in the streets of Medhurst one day and saw that her hair had been newly shampooed and set and that she was wearing a dress of a soft filmy blue material that was extremely flattering. On the shoulder was pinned a pretty brooch with tiny pearls set in the pattern of a little nosegay. It was when she went along to the Golden Galleon a couple of weeks later that the secret of Jean's new lease of life was revealed. They were seated in the little office: the door was slightly open and Helen saw Jean glance into the lounge where a middle-aged man could be glimpsed seated in an armchair, idly watching TV. 'Doesn't he look lonely?' Jean whispered conspiratorially. 'I must ask him in for a glass of sherry later: it will break up the evening for him.' 'But who is he?' Helen inquired. 'He's Jack Bell. After his wife died he thought he'd come back to Medhurst, where he grew up. But it's not working out so well for him. Most of his friends have married or have moved away, and the poor fellow spends most of his time on his own.' As she spoke she fingered the same brooch Helen had seen her wear previously. It was now pinned on her uniform dress and a suspicion crossed Helen's mind. 'Tell me, Jean,' she asked quietly, 'who gave you the brooch you're wearing?'

Jean glanced down at it shyly. 'Well, actually Jack did,' she said softly. 'You see, there's no one to keep him company, so we've gone out together a few times. He has nothing to do in the evenings and now he's retired, time hangs heavy on his hands.' As Helen could hardly keep from smiling, Jean said quickly, 'Not that there's anything in it! It's just—well, I'm sorry for the poor chap. Who wouldn't be?' 'I could almost have guessed he gave you the brooch by the way you keep fingering it,' Helen told her. 'Now you're talking daft!' Jean said with Scottish bluntness. But Helen could see that she was secretly pleased to be teased concerning her new friend. 'Well, and how are you getting along with your boss?' Jean asked later as they had tea. 'He's all right,' Helen returned. 'He's a perfectionist, of course, but I can manage. In fact, I'm quite getting into his ways now and apart from an occasional spat—when I give as good as I get you may be sure, we pull along all right.' 'So you haven't fallen for him?' Jean remarked. Is that it?' 'Of course not,' Helen said quickly. 'Why, the idea is utterly -' 'Utterly ridiculous!' Jean ended. 'Well, that's a good thing, perhaps, because it seems he's pretty fascinating.' She was silent a moment, then said, her tones serious, 'You know, Helen, I've often thought of what you told me—before you took up this job, I mean, and I must say I think you should look around and get a boy-friend for yourself. It's not right that a pretty girl like you should be mooning around on her own, taking care of the twins, or coming here to chat

with me. You need some interesting company—a young man of your own age!' 'A new boy-friend!' Helen mused. 'That's easier said than done. Besides, my old one is right here in Medhurst.' 'Do you mean he has turned up, asking you to take him on again?' Jean asked. 'That was the original idea,' Helen admitted. 'He asked me to—to overlook what had happened and that we should begin afresh, but -' 'But you turned him down!' 'Not exactly,' said Helen. 'I said I wanted to think it over. And a good thing I did,' she added in a low, bitter tone, 'because in no time he took up with Corina Manville, and once again I'm left out in the cold.' 'Just a minute,' Jean said thoughtfully, 'do you mean that Mike Kendall character? The one who's going around everywhere with Corina Manville? Is he your ex-boyfriend?' Helen nodded. 'Then you're better rid of him,' Jean said emphatically. 'He's not your type, if you ask me! What you need is someone entirely new: someone reliable and trustworthy.' And here Jean unconsciously fingered her brooch again. As she turned out of the Golden Galleon Helen was thinking that there was a lot in what Jean had said. It was no fun going everywhere on one's own. And while she was glad for Jean's sake

that Jack Bell had come into her life, yet somehow it seemed to make her own loneliness more intolerable. Helen was walking past the last few houses on the outskirts of Medhurst when a gate opened in a neat suburban garden and Jim Madison stepped out. He was looking fit and prosperous, and her impression was proved right when he said, nodding in the direction of the tidy suburban house from which he had just emerged, 'I'm in the gravy at the moment. The lady here keeps no fewer than six pedigree pekes and is in a constant state of anxiety about their health. The little bounders are as hardy as fieldmice, but she is convinced they are as fragile as Dresden china. Still, I can't complain, since they keep me not only in bread and butter, but also in cake. But, speaking of cake, when are you going to ask me to tea?' 'Should I?' she asked demurely. 'You certainly should! I'm a lone male and you're a lone female! What could be more natural than that we should have tea together, and discuss this and that over the muffins?' Helen drew her breath to tell him that she had no intention of discussing anything over tea and muffins, when a little demon of mischief whispered in her ear and instead she said quickly, 'Yes, do come to tea. Let's say, tomorrow. I'm free when the afternoon's work is over.' She was amused to see the look of surprise that flashed across his face. It was clear that he had not thought she would succumb so easily, and that he was slightly embarrassed by the unexpected success of what had been no more than idle banter.

As she strolled on, Helen was filling in the details of her plan. She had decided to invite not only Jim, but Ondine. Perhaps if they met unexpectedly at her flat, they would make up, she thought hopefully. She felt a warm glow as she visualised an emotional scene of reconciliation. She ran into Ondine almost immediately. Ondine was mucking out Samite's stable and when Helen invited her to tea on the following afternoon, she accepted with none too good a grace. 'To tell the truth, tea isn't much my line of country,' she said grudgingly. 'But I'll have nobody to show off my cream sponge-cake to,' Helen protested. 'It's about the only thing I'm really good at in the cooking line.' 'Oh, very well,' Ondine agreed. 'If you insist, although I shouldn't be eating cream sponge-cake. It will probably put pounds on me,' she added gloomily. That evening Helen donned an apron and, collecting all her ingredients, prepared to make her piece de resistance. It was a pleasure to work in the small, spotless kitchen with its array of shining modern equipment. The mixer whipped the eggs to a delicious lightness and when she took the sponge cake out of the oven it was done to the proverbial turn. When it was cool she took out the icing equipment and piped snowy rosettes on top and finished off the decorations with angelica and glace cherry. Her currant scones were also highly successful and as the weather was very warm she decided to have cucumber, cress and tomato sandwiches. Then she wrapped everything carefully in foil and put it in the fridge, all ready for the next day. She decided to use a tea-cloth she had discovered in one of the drawers. It was prettily embroidered with yellow and pink

garlands. She would use the pink and gold china, and on the following day she would collect a little centrepiece of pink and white roses. She was giving a final polish to the tea-pot when she began to feel a slow, creeping sense of apprehension. Suppose, after all, things didn't work out as she had planned! It was all very well to imagine a heart-warming kiss-and-make-up scene between Ondine and Jim with herself standing by, smiling smugly and feeling like a clever little peacemaker. But should things turn sour, she could imagine the wrath of both parties—and it would all be directed at her! Her worries didn't evaporate after a night's sleep. On the following morning she woke up feeling decidedly anxious. How could she have been so foolish? What if it were to end disastrously? Life was not like a fairy tale with a guaranteed happy ending! It was possible this ill-conceived tea-party would be the means of creating a final breach between Ondine and Jim. As the day progressed she became more and more apprehensive, and this had a noticeable effect on her work. On several occasions she bungled phone calls, could not remember numbers she had had off by heart, and made a host of silly mistakes. Eventually Max said irritably, 'What on earth is the matter with you, Helen? You're not paying attention to what you're doing. What were the last words I dictated? I bet you can't tell me.' Helen gazed down helplessly at her shorthand notes, but was unable to decipher the illegible scrawl on the page. 'Just as I thought!' he exclaimed. 'Your mind's on something else, isn't it?'

'Well, yes,' she had to admit. 'You see, I'm afraid I've done something that's going to make trouble.' 'Well, out with it! Don't keep me in suspense.' Helen swallowed, then hurried on, 'I've invited Ondine and Jim Madison to tea this afternoon.' 'I must say I'm surprised to hear it,' he replied after a moment, 'I hadn't heard that everything was on again between them.' 'Oh, but it isn't,' Helen informed him, then added shamefacedly, 'You see, I met Jim and invited him first, and then I asked Ondine. I thought, you see, that if they met unexpectedly -' She stopped: it sounded naive and rather foolish. 'Why did you choose to meddle in what doesn't concern you?' She stiffened defensively. 'I consider the flat my own particular territory and I'll invite whom I please. Besides, I know Ondine is still in love with him.' 'Did she tell you that?' he asked very pointedly. 'More or less—that is, she hinted! And I thought, if they could meet on neutral ground, perhaps things could be patched up between them.' 'All I can say is you've probably made a frightful mistake in doing this. Do you really see yourself in the role of peacemaker?' 'Not really,' Helen said miserably. 'And I admit I'm horribly worried.'

'And you have every need to be,' he said unsympathetic- ally. 'Interfering with other people's love-lives is one sure way of bringing a heap of trouble on your head.' 'What I'm afraid of,' Helen admitted, 'is that it would put between them, instead of bringing them together.' 'There is that possibility,' he said dryly. 'But you can't back out of it now. And you've only yourself to blame if there are ructions. It's hardly likely they're going to fall into each other's arms. Knowing Ondine you should have been wary!' Helen was silent. Her heart sank. Every word he said only confirmed her own belief that she had made a disastrous mistake. 'You'd better go early and get things in order for your tea-party, horrific as it may turn out to be,' he said. 'You'll be good for nothing until you get this over. I only hope it will be a lesson to you to keep your meddlesome little nose out of other people's love lives. After all, your own hasn't been such a smashing success, has it?' Then, as though dismissing the whole affair from his mind, he briskly began to dictate, and Helen buried her nose in her notebook, wishing the earth would open up and swallow her. But it was much too late now to back out, and she determined to pursue her plan doggedly. She left Max, who was in anything but an amiable humour, and returned to the flat to put the finishing touches to the tea-table. When she had finished she stood back and ruefully surveyed her handiwork. It was all so pretty and attractive, from the pink and gold china to the vase of pink and white roses. What a pity it would probably be the background to a horrible scene!

Ondine was the first to make her appearance and so soon as she arrived, Helen's heart sank, for although for once she was in excellent humour, Ondine was looking her worst. 'I had a wonderful ride,' she told Helen happily, 'and when I'd seen to Samite, there was only time to dash across to the house and drag the brush through my hair. I meant to put on something pretty, but I didn't want to keep you waiting. And I know you don't care a dash how I look. You're not the kind of girl who bothers about silly trifles like that.' As she spoke she picked up a currant scone and buttering it lavishly, marched up and down the room munching. 'Who's the other?' she asked vaguely, seeing that places had been set for three. 'Corina, I expect! Well, all I can say is I'm glad I didn't bother to dress up if she's to be here. There certainly wouldn't be any chance of poor little me being in competition with the glamorous Corina.' Helen was on the point of falteringly telling her the truth when, to her relief, Ondine broke in again, 'I do hope she hurries. I'm simply ravenous, and that cream sponge-cake looks simply delicious! Oh, here she is!' she exclaimed, darting to die window at the sound of a car drawing into the yard. She threw open the window and was on the point of calling out when she pulled it to with such a resounding crash that Helen was amazed it didn't instantly shatter. 'It's Jim Madison!' she said huskily. 'And he's coming up. So it was he you invited! How could you have done such a rotten thing, Helen? Look what mess I'm in! I simply can't face him! Well, if you think I'm staying, you're vastly mistaken.'

She dashed towards the door in headlong flight just as Jim reached the top of the stairs. And as she catapulted into him, he caught her in his arms. Helen watched breathlessly. For a long moment they clung together and she saw how Ondine looked up into his face. Then Jim released her, saying quietly, as though having Ondine fling herself into his arms was an everyday occurrence, 'Well, it's nice to see you again. It has been a long time, hasn't it?' Ondine looked irresolute and it was obvious she was considering whether to continue her headlong and undignified flight or to accept the situation with as good a grace as possible. The next few seconds would settle everything, and Helen waited anxiously for her decision. But it was Jim who took the situation in hand. He caught her firmly by the arm and led her towards the teatable. 'We've both come to tea. It would be extremely discourteous to desert our hostess at this point.' And before she knew quite what had happened to her, Ondine found herself ensconced in a chair, while he took his place across from her. Watching Ondine's face as she looked at him, Helen knew her gamble had come off. It was plain she was very much in love. Now if only he would give the smallest hint that he cared for her! But as Helen poured tea, Jim kept the conversation on a light and bantering note. Ondine seemed tongue-tied and gauche and Helen found herself making all the responses to his gambits. Then, slowly but surely, Ondine began to unbend and appeared more at her ease, and as Jim told stories about his work, illustrated by energetic mime, Ondine burst into laughter, especially at the one

he recounted concerning the peke that swallowed its owner's favourite goldfish. From then on Helen was able to sit back and relax, because, without the smallest prompting from her, Ondine and Jim were chatting happily. It was going to be all right, she thought with a sense of wonder. But what a horribly narrow shave it had been! When at last Jim rose to take his leave, he said to Ondine, 'What about seeing me down to the car? You don't mind, Helen, do you?' Ondine nodded happily. 'Thanks for the wonderful tea, Helen,' she said with a shy formality that made Helen smile. 'The food was simply scrumptious—especially the cream sponge cake.' There was something very endearing in her awkward schoolgirlish slang. 'If you go on giving teas like that you'll become so popular in Medhurst that they'll be queueing up at the door,' Jim told her. 'Oh, but this is an extra-special effort,' she admitted. 'My teas are usually more slapdash affairs.' 'Thanks anyway for making that extra-special effort,' he told her quietly. And Helen knew he had seen through her Machiavellian scheme and was highly pleased at its success. When they went down to the car, she watched them through the picture window of the sitting-room. Jim seemed loath to get in and drive off, and they stood by the car door chatting animatedly. This was the beginning of something for them, she felt triumphantly. Ondine's radiant face openly betrayed her happiness.

Helen felt a sense of smug satisfaction as she went to work on the following day. When she entered the study Max looked up and eyed her narrowly. 'Take that self- satisfied smirk off your face!' 'Do I look self-satisfied?' she asked with an air of elaborate surprise. 'Yes, you do! And it's only a pure chance that the whole affair didn't end in a hideous debacle. As it is, Ondine in her usual unsubtle way is all of a glow, and singing your praises.' 'I must admit I was terrified at first,' she admitted as she settled herself behind her desk. 'In fact my knees were knocking. I was so afraid something really awful might happen.' 'And you had good reason to have your knees knocking,' he told her grimly. 'You know Ondine! She could easily have begun flinging the pots and pans around. However, I'll be generous enough to acknowledge that even if it was a pure fluke, your strategy worked, and as a reward I propose you put the cover back on your typewriter. I'm driving into Canterbury today. Why don't you come along?' Helen agreed instantly. 'I've been looking forward to seeing Canterbury so much. As a matter of fact -' She stopped. She didn't want to tell him that she had been planning to see it alone on the following Sunday. How much better it would be to see it in Max's company! As they were leaving, Alice came from the kitchen quarters of the house, rubbing her hands on her apron. It was obvious she had been making bread. Her cheeks were pink and smudged with flour. 'When can I expect you back?' she asked Max.

'I haven't the slightest notion,' Max told her almost gaily. 'We're going to Canterbury. I've some business to do, and after that the day is ours to do whatever we list,' he intoned. 'Who knows, perhaps we may drive on and on into the sunset.' Alice smiled at his banter, but the look she exchanged with Helen was unmistakable. It was grave and warning, the kind of glance two women might exchange holding a wealth of meaning, but which a mere male would be unable to interpret. Helen felt her heart sink and some of the brightness go out of the day. She's warning me, she thought, that Max belongs to Corina, and if I fall for him I'll only get my wings singed. But as they set off, Alice and her unspoken warning was forgotten. How quickly the summer was flying past, Helen thought. Now she seemed to have become a part of the life at Ladyfields, and couldn't imagine herself in any other setting. She flung her head back, and felt the warm air ruffle her hair. He glanced swiftly at her profile. 'You're happy at Ladyfields, aren't you?' She nodded. 'Yes. Much happier than I expected to be!' He smiled. 'That's not altogether an unqualified compliment.' 'Well, you can be pretty awful at times,' she told him severely. 'And you always give as good as you get! No one can say you're the downtrodden type. But I can't say I was deceived when I took you on. Right from the start I guessed you weren't the sort of girl to suffer in silence.'

And suddenly they were both laughing, as they drove swiftly through the golden summer light. When they reached Canterbury they separated; Max to attend to business, while Helen went off to see the cathedral. She found its magnificence beautiful and awe-inspiring. In spite of that there were human, homely touches, and Helen smiled at the thought of the mason who left his portrait carved in the roof. Afterwards Max took her to lunch and then to see Agnes Wickfield's house. David Copperfield was one of Helen's favourite novels, and she remembered that hilarious scene when Mr and Mrs Micawber drove away from Canterbury eating walnuts out of a paper bag. They strolled through streets so narrow that it seemed as if the owners of the houses on one side could lean over and shake hands with the people on the opposite side. As they were driving home she gave a little sigh of contentment. 'You sound happy!' he said. She nodded. 'I am. Everything has turned out so wonderfully ! I could have made a dreadful mess of things yesterday, but it worked out well in the end.' 'It seems to me you believe in happy endings,' he remarked dryly. 'It was just a fluke there wasn't a horrible scene last night, so don't give yourself any credit.' 'All the same,' she said firmly, 'I believe life is what you make it. Love doesn't just come out of the blue.'

He glanced at her and laughed. 'For someone so young you're quite a little philosopher.' 'All the same,' she reiterated, 'I think that, on the whole, people in love are inclined to be selfish. They have a take-all attitude.' 'You're not including yourself in that category, are you?' he asked teasingly. 'Yes, I think I am,' she admitted as they drove into the yard. Max drew up and kissed her lightly on the forehead. 'Here's a kiss for the girl who believes in happy endings,' he said softly. Her heart was light as she ran upstairs and thrust the key into the lock of her flat. She was feeling wonderfully happy. It was foolish, she told herself, to be so elated. After all, that casual kiss had meant nothing to him. It had been almost mocking in its lightness and detachment, yet all she could think of was that he liked her, and seemed happy in her company. She would not try to grasp for something he was not prepared to give. Something good and precious was building between them, and she was content to keep it that way. She had fallen in love with him, not suddenly and violently as she had fallen for Mike. This was no infatuation, but the real thing. The fact that Mike had as good as abandoned her for Corina no longer troubled her, she now realised. What she felt for Max had built slowly, day by day, and was far removed from that schoolgirlish infatuation with which she had almost worshipped Mike. As time passed it was almost a relief to find that Mike was no longer even making any pretence that she was anything special in his life. Then one evening he called to the flat.

CHAPTER EIGHT HELEN had been washing her hair and wrapped a towel about her head before opening the door. On the doorstep stood Mike, looking ill-tempered and peevish. 'Come in,' she invited none too enthusiastically. With her hair wispy and with no make-up she felt at a distinct disadvantage. Why should Mike have chosen this, of all times, to decide on a visit? She poured sherry and then said, 'Just a minute, Mike, while I fix my hair.' He nodded and slumped down on one of the deep armchairs, gazing in sullen moroseness through the window. In the bathroom, Helen energetically towelled her hair wondering what had brought Mike to see her. It was strange to remember that in the early days when he had first come to live at Ladyfields, she had waited so anxiously for him to call. But now his arrival was nothing more or less than an unwelcome intrusion. She flicked a brush through her hair until it flipped up, silky and shiny, then applied a touch of lipstick before joining him. Mike put down his glass and said abruptly, 'I saw you in Canterbury a few mornings ago with Max Renton.' 'Did you?' she said, surprised. 'I didn't see you.' 'No doubt you didn't. You were much too absorbed in him to notice!' He sounded angry and resentful.

Helen picked up her glass and sipped slowly. 'Yes, I was in Canterbury a few days ago. It's lovely, isn't it? And the Cathedral so magnificent! I enjoyed the chance to see it.' 'Let's cut out all this drivel about the Cathedral,' he said roughly. 'The only thing you were interested in was Max Renton. And as far as I could see you seemed to find his conversation fascinating.' Helen felt her temper rise. 'I'm sorry, Mike,' she said coldly, 'but you may be sure if I'd known you were there I shouldn't casually have passed you by.' Not as you did, she was thinking, when you took up with Corina and flashed past with no more than a wave of the hand. Angry words trembled on her lips, but pride made her bite them back. 'After all, we have our own interests now, haven't we, Alike?' she said quietly. 'That's pretty cool, coming from you,' he said furiously. 'What I'm asking is, are you falling for this Renton fellow? It seems all his secretaries do. The last one apparently made a complete fool of herself. Perhaps you intend to follow in her footsteps.' 'Oh, don't be silly, Mike!' she said wearily. 'And even if I were, what business is it of yours?' 'I'll tell you what business it is of mine!' he retorted. 'Here am I, slaving away at this commission, trying to establish some sort of future for us, while behind my back you're trapesing about the countryside with another man.' 'Am I to take it then that what you're doing at the Manville place is really for me?' she asked quietly.

'But of course!' But she noticed how his eyes shifted. 'Naturally we want to base our marriage on some sort of security. You want me to get on and do well, don't you?' 'Yes, of course I want you to succeed. But not for my sake. You see, Mike, I don't want any part of the life you're building up. I don't really want to be the wife of a brilliant interior decorator, with swarms of silly women competing for your services. Something much simpler would suit me better. I've come to realise that you and I have a completely different approach to life. Perhaps I'm a bit of a prude, but it's too late to change now.' 'I know what it is,' he said swiftly. 'You're harking back to that old business with Suzanne. Give a dog a bad name, isn't that it?' 'Perhaps if it had been only one mistake I could forget,' she said slowly. 'But it wasn't really Suzanne's fault, was it? It was the real you, Mike. You've quarrelled with Corina, haven't you?' 'What if I have?' he said sulkily. 'She's not an easy person to work for, you know. And I intend to make myself a bit scarce until she cools off.' Helen nodded. 'Meanwhile you're filling in the time by proving to yourself that I'm still in love with you! Well, I'm not, Mike! It's all over as far as I'm concerned.' He stared at her, his face stiff with shock, and she realised how absurdly self-conceited he was. How on earth had she ever fallen in love with him in the first place? 'Very well,' he said at last. He put his glass down with a crash. 'If that's the way you want it, I shan't trouble you further.'

When he had gone, Helen paced restlessly up and down the wide sitting-room. It was finally over—all that had been between her and Mike. She knew she had done the right thing, yet her heart felt bruised and shattered, as though by some terrible and searing experience. But with a new maturity she knew it was better finally to tear out the roots of the past and begin again. On the following day when she returned to work after lunch, Helen found Corina perched on the edge of Max's desk. She looked stormy and was swinging her long slim legs petulantly. It was soon evident where her grievance lay. 'Mike's really ridiculously touchy,' she was saying to Max. 'All artistic temperament, and sulky if I don't happen to agree with him. After all, I'm paying for it, so I don't see why I shouldn't have a say. Max, his back to the window, was watching her, an indulgent smile touching his lips. 'There's not much point in hiring an interior decorator if you intend to make all the decisions yourself. If you're not careful he'll probably walk out on you. He seems to have a talent for that,' he added dryly, glancing for a moment in Helen's direction. 'No, he won't! I know his type,' said Corina. 'He'll get over it. I'll come around him; you'll see. He's off today looking for some pelmets, and wouldn't take me with him, because he knows I'd insist on my own choice. It really is an awful bore.' 'And of course you can find nothing to do with your time. Is that it?' Max said ironically.

Corina giggled. 'You don't see me supplying the locals with port wine and red flannel, do you? Anyway, the house is practically finished and the next thing I'm going to do is hold a party. You'll come, of course, Max.' Then as though recollecting Helen's presence she turned her wonderful dark blue eyes in her direction. 'And of course, Helen, you're included in the invitation.' But to Helen's ears, Corina sounded reluctant and she was on the point of quietly refusing, when Max said swiftly, 'Of course she'll come!' 'Wonderful!' Corina cooed unconvincingly. 'I'll ask Alice and Ondine when I see them. 'But, Max, this is not really what I came to ask you. I was wondering if you could spare time to come over to the house and see it before it becomes cluttered up with preparations for the party. I think you'll be surprised by the tremendous changes. It's all so stark and unfussy. All that tatty old antique stuff has been stored in the attics and you can't imagine what a difference it makes.' Her eyes were sparkling with enthusiasm, and Helen, watching her vivacious face, thought Corina had never looked more beautiful. Then she saw with a pang how Max's mouth curved into a smile that held that amused, indulgent expression that he seemed to keep for Corina alone. 'If you ask me, Mike's the one to be pitied,' he said. 'You know your own mind and go for what you want bald- headed.' Corina burst into a shout of laughter. 'Really, Max, the expressions you use!' She slid down from the corner of his desk. 'I'm not sure I altogether approve of you, when you're in your checked mackinaw, man-of-the-woods mood. Well, are you or are you not coming across to see what I've done to Ladyfields? If you can't or won't

come just say so. I shan't burst into floods of tears, I can assure you.' 'The answer is no,' Max told her decisively. 'I'm much too busy. Besides, with a little imagination, I can denude the room of tables laid with jellies and cream buns and paper hats and crackers and try to visualise it in its pristine glory.' Corina gave her little ripple of laughter. 'You know as little about parties as you do about interior decorating. You're making it sound like a child's bunfight! Well, I can tell you the food is going to be out of this world. Only the best and lots of it. Although I know it will be wasted on you. Your idea of a decent meal is an egg sandwich.' 'I seem to be extremely unsatisfactory from every point of view,' he replied wryly. Corina narrowed her long-lashed eyes. 'No, not altogether ! In fact, I find you extremely satisfactory in lots of ways!' Her manner was intimate and insinuating. Just as if I weren't present! Helen thought. And she crossed to a filing-cabinet and began riffling through it with an air of concentration. Max's expression, however, remained impassive. 'Thanks for the kind words! In return I'm prepared to compromise: what about asking Helen to have a look at it, if you're desperate for instant praise. She's a kind, good-natured little soul who will express appreciation of your efforts, no matter how horrific they may be.' To Helen's surprise, Corina appeared to consider this suggestion. Then turning to Helen she said sweetly, 'Yes, please do come across and tell me what you think. And, in spite of what Max says, I think you'll be utterly frank with me, and tell me exactly what

you think of it. After all, you'll be able to appreciate the changes I've made because you saw it as it used to be.' Helen glanced at her in astonishment. Was it possible that Corina was blandly referring to the evening when she had driven up to the Oast House just as she was coming out with Mike and had coolly appropriated him? Helen was on the point of giving an emphatic refusal when Max broke in impatiently, 'Yes, go across and view the disaster, Helen. I'll manage without you.' 'But there's so much to be done -' she began. 'I know, I know,' he said, 'but all the same, I'll manage. We can put in a little extra time tomorrow evening.' Helen got up from her chair, surprised to find that she was really looking forward to seeing what changes Corina and Mike had made in Ladyfields. As they walked up the avenue to the house, Corina chatted inconsequently, and Helen found her mind wandering to other things. Then to her dismay Corina said suddenly, 'You were in Canterbury with Max a few days ago, weren't you?' She sounded casual, but Helen could sense the tautness behind her words. At Corina's question Helen felt she was beginning to discover many things about Mike she had been too blind to notice before. There was something feline in the way he had made sure that her outing with Max had got to Corina's ears.

She tried to match Corina's air of sophisticated indifference. 'Yes,' she said evenly. 'I'd been looking forward to seeing Canterbury and it seemed a wonderful opportunity when Max was going there.' Corina arched her brows. 'How sensible of you ! I suppose you had lunch together?' But Helen had recovered her poise. 'Yes. Those old inns are wonderful, aren't they? I love the bottle-glass windows.' 'Yes, they're too utterly quaint, aren't they?' Corina said derisively. 'I know the place you're talking of well. Max and I often have meals there when we go to Canterbury. I remember it used to drive poor Joyce Cartwright quite frantic. She was Max's secretary, you know, and was always hinting that she'd like to go with him when he went off for the day. It was really rather pathetic. She was quite dotty about him, you know.' 'So I've heard,' Helen said quietly. Corina gave her a light silvery trill. 'Yes, the poor creature was quite ga-ga about Max. It showed so terribly in the end. It was all so embarrassing. He was forced to get rid of her, of course! It's plain that you're quite a different sort of person. There's no comparison, I mean—is there?' There could be no mistaking her meaning, and Helen felt angry words rushing to her lips. But they had reached the house and now Corina was a few steps ahead, eager to display Ladyfields and apparently confident that Helen, as Max's employee, would not dare to cross swords.

Helen, however, was so stunned by the transformation in the house that she stood speechless, surveying her surroundings. 'This is the dining-room,' Corina was announcing proudly. And after her initial sense of shock, Helen had to admit that, though startling, the general effect was also dramatic. The walls were in terracotta red, against which black tables and chairs stood out with striking effect. On either side of the huge copper-hooded fireplace were long alcoves in which were placed modern glass sculptures in deep terracotta red. The drawing room was equally startling. Where was the elegantly striped Regency wallpaper and fragile brocaded chairs? In their place were huge elephant grey sofas and chairs, and on the floor was wall-to-wall carpeting in deep, silky goatskin. Instead of being papered or painted, on the wall was stretched marigold yellow silk. The curtains were of the same elephant-grey velvet, lined with the same brilliant marigold of the walls. They were looped back from the big picture window by thick white cords. 'Well, what do you think of it?' Corina asked, gazing around with shining eyes. 'Quite a change, isn't it?' Helen nodded. 'Yes.' 'You don't like it. Is that it?' Corina sounded petulant. 'I don't expect you to burst into enthusiasm, because I don't think it's quite your bag, is it? But surely you've some opinions!' 'I must say I am keen on antiques,' Helen admitted. 'But definitely there's something original and striking about it.'

Corina nodded triumphantly, evidently completely satisfied with this accolade. 'And now you must see the rest of the house,' she announced. In the remaining rooms the decor was equally startling. But there was one room in particular which made Helen draw in her breath in amazement. It was entirely furnished in white; curtains, carpet, upholstery and cushions were an unbroken icy whiteness. Even the flower arrangement on a low marble-topped table was of white carnations in an alabaster vase. It was like a room in a fairy-tale and Helen was generous in her praise. 'Yes, everyone seems struck by this room,' Corina said complacently.' "Quite stunning," seems to be the verdict.' Then a thought crossed Helen's mind that slightly damped her enthusiasm, and Corina's quick eye was not slow to notice this. 'There's something you don't quite like about, it, isn't there?' she inquired sharply. 'Well, it has occurred to me,' Helen admitted, 'that in no time it might look quite—quite -' 'Quite grubby,' Corina finished. 'Yes, that has been said to me. People seem to have such a sordid preoccupation about what it will look like after a bit of wear and tear. Well, really, it's the last thing that concerns me. I leave that worry on Daddy's shoulders. As soon as anything gets the least bit off colour it will be instantly replaced. And Daddy can foot the bill, poor darling. After all, that's what daddies are for, don't you think?' Helen was on the point of energetically refuting this, when she closed her lips firmly. She had no intention of involving herself in

a verbal brawl with the girl, for she had the feeling that Corina would emerge the victor of such an encounter. But as she trailed from one room to another in Corina's wake, Helen found her enthusiasm waning. Striking as it was, it was not the sort of surroundings one could live with comfortably. To Helen, a house was a place built for furniture gleaming with the patina of many generations of polishing. There should be bright fires in wide grates, and an air of homely comfort. 'Mike and I had the most fabulous row about this room,' Corina was saying with a laugh. 'Don't you find him rather ornery at times? I know you and he are on quite special terms, to put it mildly, and I want to apologise for taking up so much of his time recently. But then I admit I'm a perfectionist. I simply can't pretend I like a thing if I don't. I think I surprised him in lots of ways.' She laughed lightly, 'I could see he was used to women who fall over themselves to agree with every word that falls from his lips.' She darted a quick glance at Helen. But if she expected to see a reaction from Helen, she was doomed to disappointment. As they said goodbye on parting, Helen could see that she was disappointed that her darts had not hit home. When she returned to the Lodge she found Max strolling in front of the main door. He seemed engrossed in some papers, his brow furrowed in a frown. Helen would have slipped past him into the house, but he thrust the papers into his pocket and said, 'Well, what do you think of the transformation at Ladyfields? I hope you were duly impressed.' 'It's very modern and up-to-date,' Helen told him. 'For instance, the big basement has been turned into a rumpus room: it's all done in

chrome and scarlet leather, with darts and billiard table and bar. It will be a wonderful place for Corina to entertain her friends.' He smiled. 'Do I detect a note of reserve in your voice? Why don't you admit you didn't like it?' 'Oh, but I did,' she protested. 'Although perhaps it's not quite my cup of tea. I expect I'm a bit old-fashioned in my views.' He glanced at her a little quizzically, 'Yes, perhaps you are a little old-fashioned—but only in the nicest possible way!' She found herself strolling by his side. They walked in silence, but it was a companionable silence, without strain or tension. Then he said briskly, 'So it's all arranged, then, you're going to the party!' 'You arranged it,' she said with a smile. He looked surprised, 'Did I? Well, perhaps I did! But I had the feeling that you were on the point of refusing.' 'Yes, I was,' she admitted. 'Just as I thought! You see, I was hoping you'd come with me to this bunfight, as I'm not at my best at parties. We could lend each other moral support.' 'Yes, I'd like that,' Helen said quietly, and felt rather proud of herself that she gave no sign of the delight his invitation gave her. Then immediately her thoughts flew to what she would need for the occasion. She must get a new dress, something really glamorous; and an evening bag, perhaps one of those exquisite

little Indian pouches in gilded leather that she had seen in Medhurst. And while she was there she'd make arrangements at the hairdressers She became aware that he was smiling down on her. 'You don't need to tell me what you're planning with that worried frown. I'll bet you're already picking out exactly the right dress for the occasion. You know, Helen, although you try to hide it, you're very young in lots of ways.' So her efforts to appear cool and sophisticated had not succeeded, she thought ruefully. 'Yes, I've always loved parties, ever since I was a child,' she admitted. 'Somehow the anticipation was even better than the reality.' Their stroll had taken them into the avenue and he stopped in the shadow of some tall trees and tilted her face towards his. 'Let's hope this party comes up to your expectations. But I'm afraid life is going to give some knocks to that romantic heart of yours.' His voice held a tenderness she had never heard in it before. Then without the smallest warning, he had swept her into his arms, and she was crushed close to him. This was not the light, almost dismissive kiss he had given her on their return from Canterbury, but real and ardent. She felt happiness like a great wave that seemed to surge up and engulf her, blotting out everything but the fact that she was in his arms, and that she loved him. She was only vaguely aware of a car that turned in through the gates. Then as Max released her, breathless and flushed, she caught a glimpse of a yellow car speeding by and Mike staring at her, startled and indignant. But his disapproval no longer meant anything to her. It was hard now to believe that she had once cared for him: it all seemed so remote and unimportant.

She seemed to float rather than walk back along the avenue with Max and she found it difficult to come back to earth when they returned to the house and found that the subject of interest was the forthcoming party. Max did not remain long in the sitting room, but took refuge in his study when he discovered that what was being discussed was what to wear at the party. But Helen joined the others for tea. Ondine was sitting on the hearthrug cross-legged in front of a crackling fire. 'I haven't got a single thing I really like,' she said despairingly, 'and I do so want to look my best, as Jim's bound to be there.' After a few moments Alice came in with a laden tea-tray in her hands. She placed it on a small table and sank into an armchair with a sigh. 'Well, there are no problems as far as I'm concerned. In fact, I suppose I'll have to make do with my old beige crepe.' 'It looks wonderful on you, Mummy,' Ondine said absently. 'But what I'm to do, I don't know. There seems to be a jinx on me when I wear anything formal; someone either steps on the hem, or spills a glass of wine on it. My jade-green is a total wreck and anyway, even if it were in good shape, I simply daren't wear it. Everyone has seen it umpteen times. But what about you, Helen? I suppose you have something perfectly scrumptious hanging in your wardrobe.' 'I'm afraid I haven't,' Helen confessed. 'My things are pretty ordinary. But I suppose I could get something in Medhurst. One of the boutiques might have something special.' Ondine turned to her eagerly. 'You'll let me come with you, Helen, won't you? You've such marvellous taste. You might help me to pick something out. My choice is usually disastrous.'

Alice, who had been pouring out tea, and had seemed to be only half listening, now dropped a bombshell. 'I'm afraid you're not going to the party, Ondine. Have you forgotten about the twins? We certainly can't leave them alone, and if I know anything about Corina's parties, this one will go on to the small hours.' 'Mummy, can't you back out?' Ondine protested. 'After all, you don't care for these do's particularly, and I want to go so dreadfully!' But Alice set her mouth determinedly. 'For once I'm going to enjoy myself. I think I deserve an evening out for a change. And anyway, I want to have a good look at Ladyfields.' 'But, Mummy, you simply can't do it,' Ondine wailed unbelievingly. 'Oh yes, I can,' Alice retorted firmly. 'You can stay at home for once. You know perfectly well what the twins are like! We simply daren't leave them alone in the house. Why, we might come back to find it burnt to the ground.' Ondine relapsed into silence as she realised that her mother was obdurate, and Helen saw that she was trying to restrain tears of disappointment. Poor Ondine, she thought, feeling very old and mature. How intensely she lived her life, each incident elevating her to the heights of happiness or casting her down to the depths of tragedy! Then suddenly she had a brainwave. Perhaps Jean might help to solve the problem! 'I have a friend who might come and sit with the twins,' she said impulsively.

'Oh, Helen, you're an angel! Do you really think you could manage it?' said Ondine, brightening. 'I'll do my best to coax her,' Helen promised. 'But do you think she'd be able to manage the twins?' Alice asked cautiously. 'They really are a handful, you know.' Helen laughed. 'Jean is Scottish and very down-to-earth. I doubt if the twins will get away with much when she's around.' 'Will you ring her right away?' Ondine begged. 'I do so want to know if I'm to get the all-clear for the party.' 'Not until she's finished tea,' Alice said decisively. Later when she phoned the Golden Galleon she found that Jean was highly pleased at the suggestion that she should take over the twins for the night of the party. 'It will give me a chance to get on with my sewing,' Jean replied. 'At my age I have no intention of wasting money on one of those fancy wedding dresses. A smart suit and hat is all I want for the great day, and I'm making the rest of the trousseau myself.' 'Trousseau?' Helen exclaimed, bewildered. 'What on earth do you mean?' Jean chuckled. 'I'm that flustered I'd forgotten I hadn't told you! I'm to be married to Jack Bell!' she announced proudly. 'Remember, I pointed him out to you the last time you were here.' 'Jean, I can't tell you how delighted I am,' Helen told her warmly.

'I'm delighted myself,' Jean confessed with Scottish bluntness. 'It means that instead of dancing attendance on others till the end of my days, I'll have a home and man of my own. And now, tell me what day I've to come,' she added briskly, 'and anything particular I'll have to know about the twins.' 'Nothing, except that they're a pair of little demons,' Helen admitted ruefully. 'But very lovable little demons, I must say!' 'Uh-huh,' Jean replied non-committally. 'Well, I think I'll be able to cope, so you can put that worry out of your mind.' 'All the same,' said Helen, 'I wonder if you'd call up to the flat. I'll ask the twins to tea and you can get to know each other beforehand. Let's make it a few days from now, because I must go shopping for a dress. I'm hoping to get something suitable in Medhurst.' Jean seemed highly pleased with the suggestion and immediately Helen made final arrangements concerning the time for the proposed tea-party. As she put the receiver down, Helen paused for a moment thoughtfully. Strange how she and Jean had found happiness at the same time! Max loved her, of that she was certain: his kiss had told her more surely than words. The future seemed like a rosy and enchanted dream. 'Well, what are you standing there for, looking like the Cheshire cat?' Ondine demanded, her head poked around the sitting-room door. 'Although, on second thoughts, you're not so much like the Cheshire cat as one of those Victorian paintings of Hope—you know the ones, with the girl in draperies, looking soulfully into the distance!'

Helen stared back at her, still wrapped in a mist of happiness. 'Oh, do wake up!' Ondine exclaimed impatiently. 'Are we or are we not going to get someone to take care of the boys?' Helen came back to earth with an effort. 'Oh yes, Jean has agreed to come. It's all fixed.' 'Oh, good! Then we're all set! I only hope she can stick it out. She may have no idea how utterly ghastly the twins can be.' 'She's going to bring her sewing. It will help to pass the time,' Helen told her. 'Bring her sewing!' Ondine exclaimed. 'She sounds a cosy old dear.' 'Oh, Jean has an iron hand beneath the velvet glove,' Helen assured her. 'Let's hope so,' Ondine replied, then added awkwardly, 'By the way, Helen, do you think black would suit me?' 'Black? Black what?' Helen inquired, confused by Ondine's abrupt change of subject. 'A black dress, of course! I'm thinking about the party. I'm wondering if it would be too formal and sophisticated for me. But I saw the most gorgeous floaty affair in a boutique in Medhurst last week. It's sort of Elizabethan in style, if you know what I mean, with wide sleeves. It's the kind of thing I'm crazy about, but I'm wondering if it's quite me. Perhaps it's a bit too glamorous.' She paused and looked at Helen hopefully.

'I think black would be just right for you,' Helen replied. 'You're so tall, the Elizabethan style would be just perfect, and you could dress it up with costume jewellery if you felt it was too plain. And perhaps if you dressed your hair differently! What about -' But she wasn't able to continue, because just then the twins came up, chattering excitedly. Ondine glared at them in disgust. 'I'd better push off. We won't be able to talk now these two characters have arrived.' 'Who were you speaking to on the phone, Helen?' the twins asked, all interest. 'I was talking to a lady who'll come and take care of you while we're at the party,' Helen told them. 'Oh!' The twins looked at each other doubtfully. 'She's not cross, is she?' Jonathan inquired. 'No, she's very nice, but all the same she won't put up with any nonsense.' 'Not even if it's nice nonsense?' Jonathan persisted. Helen smiled. 'It depends on what you consider nice nonsense. She certainly won't let you play your trumpet when you should be asleep.' 'I shan't play my trumpet. She may have no ear for music, you see,' Jonathan replied solemnly.

'It doesn't sound as if she likes children,' Tobin put in. 'And if she doesn't like me, I shan't like her. I've that sort of nature. I can't help it.' It was so obvious he was repeating a phrase he had overheard that Helen couldn't help laughing. But the twins looked so cast-down at the prospect of Jean's arrival that she said quickly, 'You needn't look so gloomy. She's coming to tea with me in a few days, and she wants to meet you and have a chat, and then you'll find that you'll be the best of friends.' 'Oh, a tea-party!' The twins instantly brightened. 'That is nice of you, Helen, because it was really horrid of Corina not to invite us to her party. We wouldn't have eaten too much, you know. Would we, Jonathan?' 'No, we wouldn't.' Jonathan shook his head solemnly. 'We would have eaten like birds.' 'You wouldn't enjoy it,' Helen told them. 'It's to be a grown-up party. There'll be no games, or balloons, or the sort of food you would like.' 'And what sort of food will you have at your tea-party?' Tobin asked suspiciously. 'Jonathan and I are very keen on trifle, and icecream, and jelly and cream buns and -' 'And gingerbread men and raspberry fizz,' Jonathan squeaked excitedly. 'Well, perhaps a few of those things,' Helen conceded doubtfully. 'But it sounds a pretty horrifying mixture.'

'You needn't bother about the balloons,' Tobin called after her, as Helen moved away. 'Thanks,' Helen laughed. 'I shan't.' But when the day came, the tea-party proved to be even more satisfactory than Helen had hoped. Before her young guests arrived, she arranged the dolls at strategic intervals about the living-room, well out of the reach of grubby little hands. She had always found the dolls to be excellent icebreakers, even with adults, and now they served the same purpose with the twins. They arrived looking very solemn and pompous, their hair neatly slicked back by Alice, and each wearing a new pullover obviously chosen by themselves, because the colours were vivid stripes of green and yellow. They greeted Helen formally, and then sat down on the edge of the sofa side by side, their legs dangling over the edge. Their shoes were newly shined and their faces like bright red apples after an application of soap and water. They looked worried and apprehensive and Helen suspected that Alice had warned them solemnly to be on their best behaviour. Apart from that, Jean's impending arrival seemed to be weighing heavily on their minds. No doubt they had discussed her endlessly and with their usual flair for the dramatic had decided that she would be a dragon, who would make their lives as miserable as possible. Gradually, however, they began to take an interest in the room and they examined the dolls with curiosity. 'Look,' Tobin said, 'there's one with a funny-looking head. It's all flat on top.' 'That's an antique doll,' Helen told them. 'It's called a pumpkin, or squash-headed doll.'

At this information the twins dissolved into screams of laughter, and rolled about the sofa in helpless paroxysms. When they recovered they were immediately as voluble as usual, and when Jean arrived a few moments later they were chattering away, twenty words to the dozen. 'I could hear you out in the yard,' she smiled. 'What's the joke?' The twins relapsed into silence, then Jonathan pointed to the doll and said shyly, 'It has such a funny flat head.' Jean regarded the doll thoughtfully and then pronounced, 'It's likely one of them yogi dolls that has stood on its head too long.' The twins appeared delighted with this explanation and immediately thawed. They thawed even more when a little later, Jean, guessing in what direction their tastes lay, told them an exciting episode in the life of the Highland outlaw, Rob Roy. Only occasionally did their eyes stray appreciatively to the laden teatable. Later when the twins were tucking into generous portions of trifle accompanied by tall tumblers of bright pink raspberry fizz, Helen and Jean retired to the kitchen to brew a pot of tea. 'They're nice well-mannered wee boys,' Jean said approvingly, as they waited for the kettle to boil. 'Don't you believe it,' Helen laughed. 'They're on their best party behaviour.' 'All the same, they're nice bairns,' Jean insisted. 'I can always tell, you know. You can't pull the wool over Jeannie McPherson's eyes. I'm not saying, mind you, that they mightn't be a wee bit wild. But

they're only bairns, and we don't want them old before their time, do we?' 'Let's hope you feel that after several hours in their company !' Helen laughed. 'Don't you worry, hen,' Jean assured her. 'The twins and I are going to be the best of friends—wait till you see.' Secretly Helen thought that Jean was viewing the twins through rose-coloured spectacles, but she was delighted to know that the party was turning out to be a success. Jean and the boys seemed to approve of each other, so her efforts hadn't been in vain. When they returned to the living-room it was to find the boys seated in front of empty plates, eagerly waiting for the next course. Helen took from the fridge tall glasses of elaborately decorated ice-cream sundae, and the boys gave little 'ohs' of appreciation. Tobin removed a cherry from the top of his portion and placed it reverently on a saucer. 'I'm going to keep my cherry in my pocket,' he announced. 'I'll have it later on in bed tonight. It'll remind me of all the gorgeous things I've eaten, and I'll have a sort of second party, in my mind.' Jean tutted disapprovingly. 'Oh no, my lad, you won't! What you'll do is fall asleep and that cherry will be squashed all over your pillow in a horrible sticky blob.' Helen sighed. This was the sort of remark calculated to bring out all Tobin's obstinacy, and she had the feeling that Jean would have to discard her rose-coloured spectacles.

But to her surprise, Tobin appeared to be intrigued. 'A sticky blob,' he repeated with relish, then added thoughtfully, 'I expect you're right! I should hate a sticky blob on my pillow.' 'Me too!' Jonathan agreed fervently. 'Do you like parties?' Tobin asked Jean. Jean smiled. 'When I was a wee one I'd walk miles to go to a party. Sometimes they ended up with toffee-apples, and that was my special favourite.' The twins were instantly alert. 'Toffee-apples?' they inquired excitedly. 'You mean to say you don't know what a toffee-apple is?' Jean asked in surprise. The twins shook their heads and listened in breathless interest as Jean explained. 'You take a ripe apple, wipe it carefully, then put a stick through the core. Then you dip the apple in hot toffee. When it's cool, you have a wonderful clear golden brown toffee coating all about the apple.' The twins sighed ecstatically. 'It sounds scrumptious,' Tobin declared. Helen had the feeling that toffee apples was going to be the main subject of the twins' conversation for the next few weeks. 'Now you've done it, Jean! There'll be no peace in the house until we send to Scotland for toffee apples.'

'There's no need to go that far!' Jean told her. 'I'll make a few and bring them along when I come.' The twins' eyes glowed as they gazed at Jean approvingly. When at last they were replete and were unable to swallow another crumb, Jean took matters in hand, and quietly but firmly, the twins were dispatched home. Helen breathed a sigh of relief as they shook hands politely and clattered down the stairs. 'And now,' said Jean, 'I'm dying to see your dress. Were you able to get something suitable?' 'And I'm dying to show it to you. I'll be horribly disappointed if you don't like it,' Helen said. In her bedroom she opened the box in which her purchase lay in layers and layers of tissue paper. She laid it on the bed so that it could be surveyed in all its glory. 'My, it is lovely!' Jean breathed. And Helen felt a little glow of satisfaction. She had taken immense care in the choice of this dress, and had settled on amber silk, knife-pleated from bodice to swirling skirt. It was in Grecian style and fastened at the shoulder with a gilt clasp. 'It seems to me, in that outfit you'll wipe Madam Corina's eye,' Jean told her when they went back to the sitting-room. Then, noticing that Helen's cheeks had become slightly pink, she said shrewdly, 'You've fallen for Max Renton, haven't you? I noticed there was a different look about you; the kind of look a woman gets when she's in love and happy.' Helen sank on to a chair opposite her. 'Yes,' she admitted, 'I'm in love, Jean. Oh, I know I told you I'd never let myself go overboard

for anyone again, but I realise now that I didn't know what the genuine thing was. This is so different! This is something that will last for always: I feel certain of that.' 'I think you've found the right man this time. That Mike Kendall was not for you. He's gadding about with Corina Manville and I suppose he fancies himself as wealthy Mr Manville's son-in-law. But I'd say he's in for a shock. Corina will drop him like a hot potato when it suits her. I expect she was killing time in the hope that Max would pop the question. And, speaking of popping the question, when did he propose?'

CHAPTER NINE 'PROPOSE?' Helen echoed. The question jolted her, and she felt embarrassed and ill at ease as she met Jean's direct regard. 'He didn't actually propose,' she admitted, 'just that —well, he let me know he loved me.' 'Uh-huh,' Jean returned doubtfully. 'You know, Helen, a kiss under the full moon in a star-studded sky doesn't mean the man's going to slip a ring on to your third finger.' Helen got to her feet. A horrible little cloud of doubt seemed to grow and expand in her mind. Had she been taking too much for granted? Jean's bald statement of fact seemed to shake the stardust from her dreams. After all, had it been nothing more than a futile flirtation? Had Max Renton, guessing that she had fallen for him, cynically led her on? How dreadful if, in his eyes, she was simply another edition of Joyce Cartwright! A silly, infatuated girl, only too ready to fling herself at his head at the slightest encouragement! She closed her eyes, desperately trying to recall that moment beneath the trees when Max had held her in his arms. Then she felt a wave of relief. The dark miasma seemed to evaporate as quickly as it had come. She remembered how he had held her close against his heart and she had known in every fibre of her being that it was her he wanted. She found Jean regarding her anxiously. 'There I go again, putting my big foot in it! I do hope I haven't upset you, Helen. Max Renton is a dependable, understanding man. He's probably giving you time to think things over and make up your mind how you feel about him. I'll bet he'll pop the question at the party. If he doesn't I'll be very much surprised, because you're going to be absolutely stunning in that outfit.'

She chuckled gleefully. 'I know it sounds spiteful and catty, but I can't help getting a kick out of the fact that Corina's going to get a horrible shock when she discovers that it's you Max is keen on. I can't stand the girl. She's always flinging her weight around. She thinks because her father's wealthy, the world should dance attendance on her. What beats me is how Max could have got mixed up with her in the first place. They're as different as chalk from cheese. She has all the faults a man like him would most despise.' 'I don't suppose that would make a lot of difference, if he loved her,' Helen said wisely. 'Well, all I can say is, I'm glad my Jack has no silly romantic notions. We like and respect each other, and we intend to make things as pleasant and comfortable for each other as possible. And that's the way it should be at our age!' Jean added with a decisive snort. But Helen wasn't deceived. She guessed that Jean would like nothing more than a cosy chat concerning Jack Bell. And over a further cup of tea, Helen listened contentedly to a long list of his virtues. For the next day or two she saw very little of Max, and mealtimes were usually spent in Alice's company. At first she had found it difficult to keep the twins out of the study. Just when she was at her busiest, they would come bursting in in their ebullient way, loudly demanding an answer to the most bizarre questions. On several occasions she had hinted to Alice that it might be as well if the twins could be taught to consider the study forbidden territory. But their aunt had proved singularly obtuse, and Helen got the impression that from long experience,

Alice had come to the conclusion that laying down rules would be completely pointless. Helen herself decided to take a strong line with the redoubtable pair. She lectured them severely and saw them depart looking crestfallen. Later, however, she could not restrain a laugh as she looked up from her work to see two noses pressed flat against the window and found that the boys were gazing at her in soulful entreaty, like a pair of abandoned puppies. She had insisted on her ban, however, and had found that she could get through her work much more quickly without their continual interruptions. Then one morning all Helen's happiness was swept away. Afterwards she told herself that she had always known: the truth had been tucked away in the back of her mind, too heart-searing to be acknowledged. It was a beautiful morning and as she crossed to the house she breathed in deep drafts of the clean-swept air: it seemed to taste of hedgerows and pastures and had a faint elusive scent of warm honey. Everything looked so newly-laundered, each leaf as if it had been scrubbed and polished overnight. Against the pale blue cloudless sky, the lines of the house were clearly outlined, as though by a hard, black pencil. Happiness seemed to bubble through her veins. The future seemed golden and full of promise. Quite soon, she told herself, all her dreams would come true. In the meanwhile she would enjoy the present up to the hilt. She was humming as she went through the kitchen door. Alice had never raised any objection to her using this shortcut to the study. Now she found the older woman preparing to wash up after breakfast. Tobin was dawdling over a plate of cornflakes in the dinette nook. He glanced up and stabbed a finger in Alice's

direction as though conveying an unspoken message, and Helen looked at Alice more closely. There was something wrong, she decided. Alice seemed flustered and agitated and didn't appear to hear Helen's cheerful goodmorning. Tobin slid down from his chair and approached Helen, his finger pressed to his lips. 'Come and hear this, Helen,' he breathed, catching her hand and beginning to pull her after him into the hall. But Alice had heard him. She swung around from the cooker. 'Get back to your chair immediately, Tobin,' she commanded sharply. 'But why can't she hear?' Tobin protested, reluctantly climbing on to the chair. 'She'll know anyway when she goes into the hall.' 'Go upstairs and tell Jonathan to come down immediately,' Alice snapped, 'otherwise he can do without breakfast. He's a lazy, idle little boy!' Tobin edged reluctantly towards the door, evidently impressed that his usually placid aunt was displaying such ill- temper. When he had disappeared, Alice said anxiously, 'Take no notice of Tobin, Helen. He's sticking his nose into what doesn't concern him. They really are extraordinarily badly brought up children, but I'm afraid it's too late in the day to try to remedy that.' Then, as Helen went towards the door, she said quickly, 'Will you have a cup of tea? There's plenty in the pot, and it's still warm.' 'But I've just had breakfast,' Helen told her, a little surprised at Alice's offer.

Alice gave a short artificial laugh. 'How silly of me! Well, I think I'll have one myself. I do like it hot. Unless it's practically scalding I simply can't endure it.' As she rattled on, Helen got the distinct impression that she was being deliberately delayed. For some reason or other Alice didn't want her to go into the study, and she felt that it had something or other to do with Tobin's cryptic remark. She glanced at her watch. It was high time she was putting in an appearance; so, in spite of Alice's efforts to detain her, she hurried through the house towards the study. She was amused to find the twins crouched outside the door, both trying at once to peer through the keyhole. They turned as she approached and Tobin caught her by the hand and put his finger to his lips. 'Hush, listen to this, Helen,' he whispered conspiratorially. There could be no mistaking the sounds that came from behind the closed door. There was a violent row going on inside. She recognised Corina's voice. She was shouting so loudly that it was impossible to miss what she was saying. 'You can't go in now,' Tobin told her with satisfaction. 'Anyway, it's better fun listening outside!' 'Of course, you're making a great show of having fallen for Helen!' she heard Corina say, 'but don't think I don't see through you. It's because I've given this job to Mike. You can't bear to think there could be another man in my life. You're crazy with jealousy and you're trying to pay me out by making passes at Helen. Well, you're not going to force me to drop Mike! He's making a great job of the house, and I've no intention of kicking him out.'

'He certainly seems to appreciate your patronage,' Max said ironically. Corina gave a trill of laughter that held no humour. 'You're saying that because, as I said before, you're green with jealousy. I'm sure that little typist of yours is thrilled to bits that the boss is casting his eye in her direction. I wonder how she'd feel if she knew that you're using her to show me how you can get any woman to fall for you when you really put your mind to it, and that I'm not the only fish in the sea. Oh, I see through you, Max Renton! I know you too well to be deceived by that little charade!' Then as Max didn't answer she said sharply, 'That's the reason, isn't it? Admit it! Isn't it because you're jealous?' Helen, standing rigidly outside with the children, could feel her heart thump. Every nerve in her body seemed to be on edge as she waited for his reply. Max would deny it. Of course he must! His voice was low when he replied and she strained her ears to hear. 'My motives are none of your business.' 'Aha!' Corina crowed in triumph. 'That's no answer, and you know it! You're crazy about me. Why don't you admit it?' 'Do you think she'll throw something at Uncle Max?' Jonathan asked with interest. 'Oh, do keep quiet, Jonathan,' Tobin begged. 'We're missing all the best bits.'

'And don't think you can wriggle out of this by maintaining a dignified silence,' Corina said furiously. 'I've a right to an answer, and you know it.' 'I suggest you lower your voice,' Max told her coolly. 'Helen will be here shortly. I should prefer she didn't find us engaged in a brawl.' 'That would be too bad, wouldn't it!' Corina sneered. 'It might offend her shell-like ears. Apart from that, I'm sure you'd hate to lose her spaniel-like devotion! I'll bet she was thrilled to bits that evening when you kissed her! Oh yes, I heard about it—as you meant me to! You saw Mike drive in, and you guessed he'd tell me. But you're putting ideas into the poor creature's head. She's probably visualising you slipping a diamond ring on to her third finger—and then orange blossom, and wedding bells, and a honeymoon in the south of France! You ought to break it to her gently that there's no future in her little daydreams.' Corina's voice had lost its shrillness and Helen sensed that she was highly satisfied with herself. And why shouldn't she be? she thought bitterly. Although Max had not admitted that he had been using her as a means of making Corina jealous, on the other hand, he had not denied it. She felt as though her heart was being crushed by a great icy hand. All the happiness she had felt that morning had evaporated, leaving only pain and misery. When at last Corina left the study, she passed Helen and the twins as though unaware of their presence. She appeared both defiant and triumphant, and never had she looked more beautiful. 'Goodness,' Tobin said, awestruck, 'wasn't Corina in an awful temper! I think Uncle Max is very silly to marry her.'

'Me too!' Jonathan agreed. 'All the same, she's very rich! They'll probably have toffee apples every day.' But Helen was too sick at heart, even to smile. When the twins had scuttled off, she forced herself to open the door. It was going to be difficult, she knew, but not by the smallest sign must she let Max know she had overheard what had passed between him and Corina. For the rest of the day she must play the part of the perfect secretary, her heartache smothered until she could return to the privacy of her flat.

On the night of the party, Jean arrived early. She carried a bulging shopping bag which contained her sewing materials, in the outside pocket of which, individually wrapped in transparent foil, were six glistening amber-coated toffee- apples. Jean was in the highest spirits as she unpacked the bag in the sitting-room. 'I've nearly finished the blouse,' she announced. 'As I told you, I don't intend at my age to walk down the aisle in a cloud of white tulle. But I have sewn tiny seed pearls around the collar. Maybe it will make it look a wee bit gaudy, but after all, it is a wedding! Do you think pale blue would be a good colour for the suit? I thought of one of those linen mixtures: you know, the kind that doesn't crush.' She chattered on about her own affairs, only gradually becoming aware that Helen was not responding. 'Well, I must say, you're a nice one!' she said a little tartly. 'I'm sorry if I'm boring you with my business.' 'I didn't mean to seem uninterested,' Helen said quickly.

Jean looked at her sharply. 'You're looking very down in the mouth. I expected you to be on top of the world. After all, Max Renton is a very good-looking lad, and with plenty of money to boot. If I were in your shoes I'd be thrilled to bits.' 'Well, I'm not thrilled. In fact, I wish I could get out of going!' Helen told her flatly. Jean's eyes opened wide in astonishment. 'What on earth do you mean?' 'Simply that I've discovered Max has been using me to get even with Corina! He resents the way she's adopted Mike Kendall. Perhaps he thinks that pretending to care for me will make Corina come running back to him. Oh, I really don't know!' she added miserably. 'But whatever the reason it's not because it's my company he wants. Of course, I could back out, and that's what I'd really like to do, considering what he said to Corina!' 'What did he say to Corina?' 'She put it to him and he as good as admitted he had been pretending to care for me to pay her out for taking up with Mike.' 'Just a minute! You don't mean she asked him in front of you?' Jean exclaimed incredulously. 'Well, no—I happened to—to overhear it,' Helen admitted reluctantly. 'Aha! So that's it!' Jean pursed her lips censoriously. Eavesdropping, according to Jean's code was an extremely heinous offence.

'It seems to me that, like everyone who listens in to what doesn't concern them, you've probably got this all upside down. Anyway,' she added, 'you'd no right to put your lug to the keyhole.' 'I did not put my lug to the keyhole, as you call it,' Helen protested with an irritated little laugh. 'I simply couldn't help hearing what they were saying. Corina was yelling at the top of her voice. And I had a perfect right to go into the study! That's where I work, you know,' she added tartly. 'Don't be sarcastic with me, miss!' Jean sniffed. 'I'll bet you were afraid you'd miss a single word!' 'You don't mean to say you think I enjoyed as good as hearing Max admit that he was leading me on, just because he was green with jealousy,' Helen snorted. 'What's wrong with you, my girl, is that you've an inferiority complex. You're letting what happened with Mike ruin your life. You're expecting to be let down, isn't that it?' 'I know what I heard,' Helen insisted angrily. She was coming near to a quarrel with Jean. Perhaps it was Jean's shrewd appraisal of her attitude that was so infuriating! 'But you do admit you didn't hear everything clearly! It seems to me that, at the back of your mind, you have been dreading this. You've been expecting it to happen, and waiting for the blow to fall. In my opinion, my girl, this is no more than a storm in a teacup. And, speaking of tea,' she went on, 'I'm away into the kitchen to make a pot of the stuff that cheers. You'd be surprised what a difference it can make, when things look at their blackest.' Helen gazed after her in exasperation as Jean walked briskly into the kitchen and filled the electric kettle.

'And what's more, it's my opinion,' Jean continued, raising her voice, 'that you're much too thin-skinned. Life isn't going to serve up a fairy-tale ending, just because you want it so much. You'll have to learn to take the rough with the smooth and remember that men like Max are not two a penny. What about exerting your womanly wiles for a change, instead of being sorry for yourself?' 'I've no intention of exerting my womanly wiles, as you call them!' Helen snapped. 'I'd feel a complete fool. And anyway, Max would see through it immediately.' 'Oh no, he wouldn't! Men seldom do. And in that respect at least, Max Renton is no different from any other man.' 'Well, I don't care!' Helen said stubbornly. 'I'm not going to make an exhibition of myself—like Joyce Cartwright!' 'And who's Joyce Cartwright when she's at home?' asked Jean. 'She was Max's last secretary and, according to all accounts, she used to fling herself at his head. She made an utter fool of herself. In the end he had to get rid of her. When I leave, it will be because I've walked out on Max— not because I've been chucked out of my job for making a spectacle of myself!' Jean was silent as she returned with the tray. 'Really, Helen, you and I think so differently on this subject there's not much point in discussing it. Anyway, you sound so vague! Can you remember the exact words Max used? After all, you should remember— considering your lug was clapped to the door!' 'Oh, Jean, you are impossible!' Helen laughed, half in exasperation. 'Once you get an idea into your head, it would take blasting to remove it!'

'Just like yourself!' Jean said equably, as she poured tea. 'Now rack your brains and tell me exactly what he said.' Helen knitted her brows, as she sipped her tea. 'He said something like, "My motives are none of your business."' 'Hmm,' Jean said thoughtfully. 'Has it not occurred to you he may not have wanted to discuss you with Corina?' Maybe what he feels about you is too precious to be picked over! And after all, Corina was only doing what we call speering in Glasgow.' 'Speering?' Helen questioned. 'Yes, it's saying a thing to find out what another person is thinking. It sounds as if Corina was trying to find out Max's attitude towards you.' Helen listened eagerly. Perhaps there was a certain amount of truth in what Jean was saying. She longed to seize on this as an explanation, but dismissed it as wishful thinking. Jean, watching her, saw her mouth set mulishly. She sighed. 'Well, I only hope you know what you're doing, because men like Max don't grow on every tree, and if you fling him overboard for some silly reason, you're going to regret it.' She stood up. 'And now I'd better be getting across to the house and taking over my charges. Their aunt will want to dress. And come to think of it, isn't it time you were getting into your glad rags?' Helen gave a little exclamation at the clock. 'You're right! And I promised Ondine I'd give her a hand with her hair before we set off.' When Jean had gone, Helen went into her bedroom and carefully made up. She combed her hair into a high style in keeping with the

Grecian line of her dress. Then she regarded herself critically in the triple mirrors of her dressing- table. She looked much too formal, she decided. She gave the impression of having taken a great deal of care about her appearance. Well, that was the last thing she wanted Max to think! She drew out the pins and combed her hair loosely about her shoulders, letting it fall in soft elfin locks against her cheeks. Then she snatched up her tiny evening bag and looped the gold cord over her wrist. When she reached the house she found Alice waiting in the hall. She looked flustered, and her beige crepe had obviously seen better days. 'Do ask Ondine to hurry,' she said fretfully. 'Max is bringing the car around and he'll be furious if she keeps him waiting.' Helen nodded and ran upstairs, tactfully refraining from mentioning that Ondine still had to have her hair fixed. She found Ondine seated in front of her dressing-table. She turned with relief. 'Thank goodness you've come! I've brushed my hair until I'm practically blue in the face. Can you fix it so that it will stay put for the evening?' Swiftly Helen drew Ondine's dark hair back and secured it in a severe French pleat. It seemed to lend maturity to her pudgy features and gave her an air of distinction. Helen tucked it in with more pins than were strictly necessary, knowing that otherwise Ondine would somehow or other emerged from the evening with straggling untidy wisps. Ondine looked at herself critically in the mirror. 'You don't think it's just a little too schoolmarmish?' she asked. 'I mean, I look so much older—and rather standoffish.'

'This is one occasion when you can afford to do something totally different,' Helen reminded her. 'And as for looking standoffish, that mightn't be altogether a bad thing!' Ondine giggled nervously. 'I feel like a cross between Mata Hari and the Lady of the Camellias!' She pulled open a small drawer in her dressing-table. 'Mummy said I might wear this! Do you think it's quite me?' Helen gave an exclamation of admiration. It was an exquisite necklace of jade and coral plaques. 'It will be just perfect against the black of your dress.' 'Good! Then I'll wear it after all! I'm a bit nervous about overdoing things, but I know I can trust your taste, Helen.' Helen fastened the rather complicated clasp at the back and together they surveyed Ondine's reflection critically. Ondine nodded. 'Yes, you're right!' she said with an air of pleased surprise. 'I—I look so completely different! It's rather nice not to be me for a change—like borrowing a new personality for the evening.' She stood up and whirled her full skirt. 'Tonight I intend to be cool and aloof and very, very inaccessible,' she announced dramatically. Helen laughed. 'I can see queues of men lining up to be introduced to the mysterious stranger.' Ondine's eyes were bright and expectant and Helen guessed that she intended to cut a swath through the competition that evening. 'What I really need now is a fan,' Ondine pronounced, 'so that I can murmur sweet nothings to my partners.'

'Now that would be overdoing it,' Helen laughed. 'And now we'd better go down, or we'll be very unpopular.' 'Oh, everyone turns up late for affairs of this kind!' Ondine said airily in her new character of blasé sophistication. 'It's not that I'm thinking of! But your mother asked me to tell you that Max has gone to bring the car around.' 'Yes, I heard him! And he can jolly well wait till I'm good and ready,' Ondine said loftily. 'What's wrong with Max is that he's spoilt. He's used to the women of the family scurrying around to do his bidding. It's time he realised that we're not all at his beck and call.' And as though to prove her point, she walked slowly and deliberately downstairs. Helen, who was following, lacked her aplomb, for she could see Max had now joined Alice and he was staring up at them impatiently. 'What on earth have you two been up to? We're only going as far as Ladyfields, you know, not to a state ball!' 'I've no intention of setting out with my hair on end, just because you can't wait to see Corina,' Ondine snapped. 'Perhaps, after all, it would be as well not to be too early, Max,' Alice said nervously. 'If it were anyone but Corina it wouldn't matter, but she moves with such a smart set, and she's so sophisticated herself, one doesn't like to appear too much the country bumpkin.'

But Max wasn't listening. His eyes had gone to Helen, who now stood on the last step, uncertain and self-conscious, aware of his gaze. Ondine and Alice were by now engaged in one of their usual wrangles and under cover of their raised voices, Max said quietly, 'You look very lovely tonight! I doubt if Helen of Troy herself could surpass you. But your hair isn't right for the role. Why don't you wear it in the Greek style?' Helen gave a light, trilling laugh. 'One doesn't want to appear too statuesque,' she said lightly. 'And sophistication was never really my line!' She had the satisfaction of seeing him glance at her with a slightly puzzled look. 'You sound very hard and brittle tonight,' he told her quietly. Helen's fingers played with the cord at her wrist. She shrugged. 'Just trying to get into the mood of the occasion!' She felt rather pleased with herself. She appeared blasé and indifferent, she knew, and was gratified to see that Max was both irritated and intrigued. I'm really learning some of Corina's tricks, she told herself with smug satisfaction. This was how she kept him on a string! And Max was no different from other men! That touch of the unpredictable was what they desired in a woman. They were moving towards the door with Alice and Ondine still wrangling, when Jean appeared on the scene with the twins, each of whom was happily sucking a toffee- apple.

Ondine let out a scream as Tobin approached. 'Get away from me, you little horror!' she shrilled. 'If you come near me with that sticky, horrible thing, I'll—I'll -' 'What will you do, Ondine?' Tobin asked with interest. 'Would you turn me into a toad? You look rather like a witch with that long black dress, you know. All you need is a big poked hat and hands like claws.' But Jean quickly got the situation under control, rounding up the boys like a efficient sheepdog. 'We'll go and wave them off,' she told the twins. As they moved across the hall, Jean took the opportunity to whisper to Helen, 'It's a wonderful evening! Look at that terrific full moon! It's all set for romance, and if you're sensible you'll give him every chance to propose. I wonder if by any chance there's a conservatory at Ladyfields? That's what you need! The scent of flowers and silver shafts of moonlight. That should do the trick nicely.' In spite of herself, Helen gave a gurgle of laughter. 'Really, Jean, you're positively Victorian! People don't propose in conservatories any more!' 'Ah, more's the pity!' said Jean. As the car reached Ladyfields House they saw that welcoming lights glittered from every window. The gracious Georgian building looked its best, and the wide gravelled space before the mansion was packed with cars. There was the sound of crashing doors as guests, newly arrived, left their cars and strolled in chatting groups towards the house.

As the party from the Lodge crossed the threshold, Corina surged forward to welcome them. She was wearing evening gaucho trousers in an exquisite shade of amethyst with a tight-fitting waistcoat of the same colour encrusted with gold sequins, so that she glittered like some exotic butterfly. She seemed determined to be on her best behaviour and greeted them graciously and said all the right things, even putting herself out to admire Ondine's outfit. What a hypocrite, she is, Helen thought, when at heart she regards Ondine as awkward and boorish! Then immediately the thought struck her, I'm jealous of her. I'm jealous because she's beautiful and proving herself to be the perfect hostess, courteous and tactful and utterly sure of herself. And above all I'm jealous because Max is looking at her with that expression in his eyes! 'I'm looking forward to seeing all the changes you've made,' Alice was saying enthusiastically. 'Then I shall take you on a personally conducted tour,' Corina promised with a charming smile. She turned to the others. 'Daddy has promised to drive down from London and look in for a few hours. But I've the feeling he'll dawdle. Poor darling, this is not exactly his scene! I suppose I can dispense with introductions,' she continued. 'You must know everyone here. Just the usual old crowd!' She paused and glanced at Helen, her eyes bright. 'Oh, but I forgot! You're a newcomer, Helen! Although one wouldn't guess it, you've made yourself so completely at home. But what a perfectly exquisite dress! It's simply stunning, and must have cost the earth.' 'Thanks!' Helen said quietly. 'I bought it here in Medhurst in one of the boutiques, and it really wasn't so dreadfully expensive.'

'Well, with a dress like that, you'll hardly need introductions,' Corina said sweetly. 'Now, Alice, I suggest you and I disappear. I'm dying to show you all the changes I've made.' She tucked her arm through the older woman's and bore her off, and Helen could see that Alice was highly delighted at the fuss Corina was making of her. Almost immediately Jim Madison put in an appearance and Helen felt a little glow of satisfaction as she saw the look of surprise and growing admiration on his face as he surveyed Ondine. He had eyes for nobody else. When the music began he swept her on to the floor. 'Suppose you and I join them?' Max suggested. With an effort Helen accepted with a radiant smile. Later, as she danced, she listened to herself with a sort of wonder: her voice sounded rather too high, and her trills of laughter rather too shrill. It was as though she was unconsciously imitating Corina. She was disconcerted when he said very gravely, 'What do you think of the floor?' She looked at him blankly. 'The floor?' 'And now I must ask you if you've danced here before. I'm told these are the stock remarks one makes to a girl when one meets her for the first time on a dance floor. You see, you're so distant and formal that it appears I must treat you like a new acquaintance, and say all the conventional things.'

'Perhaps you care meeting me for the first time!' she replied. She tilted her head back and gazed up at him. 'And just what do you mean by that extraordinary remark?' 'May a girl not have more than one facet to her personality?' 'Suppose I prefer the original facet? Perhaps it hadn't such a brilliant gloss or such a sharp edge as your present one!' 'That's exactly what was wrong!' she burst out, in spite of all her resolutions. 'On the contrary, it was the old Helen I liked, the honest straightforward girl, who spoke her mind and didn't give a damn for the consequences.' 'I've discovered I care very much for the consequences, and that's one of the reasons I've decided to change my image. From now on I shan't be quite so transparent—or so easily taken advantage of!' 'Look, Helen, why don't you tell me what's wrong? It's clear you're angry with me, and I wish I knew what it's all about.' But she set her mouth stubbornly. 'There's nothing to discuss.' 'Very well, then! Suppose we adjourn for a glass of champagne! It will save you the effort of pretending you're enjoying yourself.' An elaborate buffet had been set up in a small room adjoining the ballroom and as she waited for Max to return Helen watched Ondine dancing with Jim Madison. He held her close and she noticed how happy the girl looked, and this seemed only to accentuate her own misery. How strangely their roles had been reversed! No one watching Ondine as she glanced up at Jim could

have had any doubt that she was in love with him, yet there was about her a new dignity. She had learned a measure of self-control, and would not rush things as she had done before. She saw Max approach with two glasses of champagne and at the same time Corina was weaving her way through the dancers towards him. As Max handed Helen a glass, Corina came up with him. Her cheeks were flushed and she had an air of restrained excitement. 'I wonder, Max, if you could see Dad for a few minutes. Something has come up and he wants to have a chat with you.' Max sipped from his glass and eyed her levelly. 'I hope, Corina, this is not one of your childish games.' 'No, no, of course not!' she said quickly. 'Do come, Max! You know how impatient Daddy gets if he's kept waiting.' Max glanced doubtfully at Helen. 'Don't worry about Helen!' Corina said with almost feverish urgency. 'Do come!' But it was obvious that he was still unconvinced by her story. He turned towards Helen. 'Sorry about this! I shan't be long. And you,' he said grimly to Corina, 'had better be telling the truth.' 'Oh, but I am! Why must you be so stubborn?' Corina expostulated. She slipped her hand through his arm and almost dragged him away. Helen found herself alone, looking down on her glass of bubbling champagne. It had all happened so quickly! Corina had detached her from Max so skilfully that she had had no chance to protest.

She quickly discovered that she was the only girl who was not dancing, and she saw curious eyes cast in her direction. She sipped at her glass, trying to look at ease. The traditional role of wallflower was more difficult to carry off than she could have expected. When Jim Madison came up she greeted him with almost fervent eagerness. 'May I fetch you another, Helen?' he asked, indicating her empty glass. She shook her head. 'Where on earth is Max? Ondine tells me you came with him, then we spotted you sitting here all on your own, like a maiden all forlorn.' Helen gave a little peal of the bitter laughter that seemed to come so easily now. 'I'm sorry I was so obvious, but I'm afraid Corina has commandeered him. But then she saw him first, didn't she?' He looked slightly uncomfortable and for a moment she thought he was going to offer trite words of consolation. Instead, he said, 'Well, Max can be pretty old-world in some ways. I suppose he felt he had to humour his hostess, no matter how unreasonable she may be—and Corina can be a bit of a handful when she puts her mind to it. But that's not what I came to speak to you about—it's Ondine! I want to thank you for all you've done for her—I mean, in every way.' 'Oh, it was just my magic touch on the hairbrush,' she said lightly. 'I sometimes think there's a good hairdresser tucked away in me somewhere.' 'Whatever it is, I've never seen her look like this before!' He glanced towards Ondine who was dancing with one of Corina's

smart set. 'This is a great deal more than just titivating her hair,' Jim went on. 'She has self-confidence she never had before. She wouldn't have had the courage to turn herself out like this if she hadn't had your backing. I think Corina has a lot to do with Ondine's lack of self- confidence. For one thing she puts every other woman in the shade, and most people are wary of her sharp, malicious tongue.' As he chatted on, Helen began to have the horrible feeling that he was spinning out the time until Max should return, trying to spare her the embarrassment of being too obviously a wallflower. When the dance was over and Ondine joined them, she looked flushed and happy. 'What are you two nattering on about? Why aren't you dancing, Helen?' 'I'm waiting for Max,' Helen said hurriedly. 'If I were you, I shouldn't wait too long,' Ondine said bluntly. 'I saw him go off with Corina and she was looking at her man-eating best. But doesn't she look stunning tonight ! Only Corina could get away with that fantastic outfit.' Ondine plumped herself down and sipped from the drink Jim fetched for her. But when dancing recommenced, she showed unmistakable signs of impatience, and Jim, evidently deciding that he had done his best by Helen, was only too delighted to sweep her on to the floor again. Desperately Helen glanced towards the door. Was Max deliberately showing her how little he cared? Well, she had no intention of staying any longer and making herself an object of derision, or worse still—sympathy. Slowly she began to edge towards the hall.

CHAPTER TEN BUT she was not to escape so easily. Mike, who had been slouching against the wall, moved towards her. 'What a stunning dress! I give it full marks.' 'Thanks,' she said dryly, 'I'm so glad you approve.' 'Now don't be nasty! The trouble with you, Helen, is that for you black's black and white's white. You simply won't compromise, and I must say I find it a frightful bore. Why don't we kiss and make up? After all, we're in the same boat. Corina and Max have gone off together, leaving us bereft. All the more reason for teaming up. We could give each other moral support.' 'But then I don't need moral support, and -' She had been on the point of telling him what she thought of his little speech when, over his shoulder, she caught sight of Max and Corina on the stairway. The hall was brilliantly lit and she could see that Max's arm caught the girl tightly about the waist, and that Corina's head was resting on his shoulder. He seemed to be murmuring to her quietly as they slowly descended the stairs. The picture was unmistakable—two people deeply in love, and indifferent as to who knew it! Helen was vaguely aware of Mike's voice droning on. 'But you must understand, Helen, that they're two of a kind.' She listened, feeling a dull blankness. What Mike was saying was true! Mike and herself were interlopers who would never, no matter how hard they tried, fit in. All the same, before she left, she would show Max how little his desertion had affected her.

She slid closer to Mike and gazed up eagerly into his face. For a moment she had a wild desire to laugh as she saw his startled expression. 'Why don't you ask me to dance?' she demanded. He looked down at her, puzzled. 'Well, yes, if you'd like to,' he began uncertainly, obviously completely put off his stride by her unaccountable change in manner, 'Yes, I'd love to dance. After all, what happened between us is in the past. Don't let's quarrel this evening!' She slid into his arms and as they danced she looked up into his face with an air of rapturous happiness. Would Max see them? she wondered. It would be horribly disappointing if all her efforts had been in vain. From the corner of her eye she watched as Max and Corina entered the ballroom. The night was warm and long French windows opened on to a balustraded terrace. As they danced past Mike hesitated. 'What about you and I popping out and having a breather?' Her hand on his arm, they went out on to the wide paved terrace. Banks of flowering shrubs in wooden tubs were placed at intervals along the walls, and from the garden beneath came the strong, sweet scent of stocks. A perfect full moon shone through the trees, and for a moment there flashed through Helen's mind Jean's remark that it would be a perfect background for romance. Well, now she had found it—but with the wrong man! Mike did as she willed him to do! He pulled her close and kissed her with theatrical intensity. But for once she didn't resent his dramatics. To anyone standing at the open window it would appear as if they were passionately in love. If only Max were there! How she would revel in showing him how easily she had forgotten him in Mike's arms.

She glanced up to find that Max was standing outlined against the brilliantly lit room. 'Oh, hello, Max!' she greeted him airily with a wave of her hand, as she moved towards the room. He caught her roughly by the arm and she saw with satisfaction that he was extremely angry. 'I was under the impression we were to be partners this evening,' he said in a choked voice. 'I was under that impression too,' she replied coolly. 'But obviously I was mistaken.' 'I was delayed. It couldn't be helped. And I think you will agree that one should show civility to one's hostess.' 'Especially if one's hostess is Corina!' she returned bitterly. 'You must let me explain! You see -' he began. 'There's no need for you to explain,' she interrupted. 'Your actions speak for themselves.' As she spoke she turned away, and was on the point of walking back on to the terrace when she noticed that Mike had disappeared. 'It looks as if your ex-boy-friend has deserted you,' Max remarked dryly. She turned on him furiously, all pretence of cool detachment evaporated. 'At least he saved me the embarrassment of sitting there like the proverbial wallflower while you enjoyed yourself elsewhere!'

'I can assure you I wasn't enjoying myself -' he began. But she was in no mood to listen. 'Did you really think I'd sit meekly there until you deigned to return? Well, if you did, you know very little about me. I'm not Joyce Cartwright, you know— all dewy-eyed if you as much as look in my direction!' 'You appeared dewy-eyed enough a moment ago, when you were kissing Mike Kendall.' 'And why not? I'm your secretary, not your slave!' 'Now you're being ridiculous!' he said shortly. For Helen this was the last straw. 'I'm not staying here another moment,' she shrilled. It was between dances and her voice had risen above the buzz of conversation. She saw several curious and amused glances turned in her direction. What a fool she was making of herself, she thought wretchedly, but somehow it was impossible to stop. 'Your wish is my command! I'll take you home. I can call for the others later.' 'You'll do nothing of the sort. I'm perfectly capable of going home by myself,' she burst out. And, darting across the terrace, she ran down the wide stone steps that led to the garden. 'And what's more,' she called up, 'you can take my notice. I'll give it to you formally in the morning.' Then, as swiftly as the slender heels of her evening shoes would allow, she rushed back towards the Lodge.

Moonlight flooded the dark, narrow paths, lined by tall cypresses. A cool breeze had sprung up, and she slowed to a walk as she approached the small iron gate that led on to the avenue. Now she had done it! She had given her notice and it would be impossible, without loss of face, to back out. Even if she were to try to do so, Max would certainly hold her to her threat. The gravel was sharp against the thin soles of her golden evening slippers, so that she was limping slightly as she approached the house. Tears of self-pity and frustration blinded her as she pushed open the door. A light was burning in the hall, and she intended taking the shortcut to her flat through the kitchen. But Jean appeared as she was crossing the hall. She came hurrying down the stairs, her face puckered with worry. 'I'm so glad to see you, Helen!' she exclaimed agitatedly. 'I was just wondering if I should ring Ladyfields! I'd have hated to do it, and perhaps make a fuss about nothing, but at the same time I wondered if it was serious and I would regret it later!' 'What are you talking about?' Helen cried in alarm. 'Is anything wrong?' 'It's Jonathan! He's been very sick and says he has a pain in his tummy. I was wondering if it could possibly be appendicitis.' To Helen's alarm Jean, usually so competent and level-headed, sounded on the point of panic. 'But why should it be appendicitis?' she asked, trying to hold on to common sense. 'Then what can it be?' Jean asked in a worried voice.

'It wouldn't by any chance be toffee apples?' Helen asked after a moment. 'But they had only one each!' Jean protested. 'You brought half a dozen, didn't you?' Helen said thoughtfully. Jean nodded. 'And where did you put them?' 'In a cupboard in the kitchen.' 'I think you'll find, if I know anything about Jonathan, that he's scoffed the lot. He simply can't resist sweet things.' 'What?' 'Yes,' Helen smiled. 'The twins take some getting used to. They can be pretty terrible when they want.' In the kitchen, Jean pulled open the cupboard, only to find that Helen's guess had been correct. 'Would you believe it, only one left,' she breathed. 'He must have crept downstairs while I was sewing in the; sitting-room—and to think I didn't hear a sound! Well, he'll get no more sympathy from me. Serve him right if he's sick!' 'All the same, he must be feeling awful!' said Helen. 'I'll slip up and have a look at him.' 'What brought you back so early? Where are the others?' Jean asked as Helen turned to leave the kitchen. 'The others are still at the party. I came back myself.'

'So you did fling him overboard!' Jean gasped unbelievingly. 'But why?' Helen hesitated. She felt she couldn't bear to tell Jean the full story of the evening's humiliations. 'I made up my mind to do it,' she said a little defiantly. 'So you did!' Jean agreed, 'but I thought when it came to the bit, you wouldn't carry it out. It's all very well to plan that sort of thing, but not so easy to do it.' 'Well, I did,' Helen said loftily. Jean merely shook her head speechlessly. 'I think I'll pop on the kettle and have a wee cup of tea,' she said after a moment. 'I feel I could do with it. And while I'm about it, I'll put a bottle of soda water in the fridge for Jonathan, and bring it up to him later on.' It was clear that kind- hearted Jean had already forgotten her determination not to show Jonathan any further sympathy. Softly Helen opened the twins bedroom door, only to find Jonathan sitting up in bed looking the picture of health, while Tobin slept peacefully in the adjoining bed. 'Jonathan, I heard you've been sick. Are you all right?' she asked. 'Oh, I'm all right now,' he replied airily. 'But for a while I was very, very poorly.' And here he shook his head in such a perfect mimicry of Alice's manner that Helen could hardly keep from smiling. 'I see Tobin's all right.' 'Oh yes, he's all right,' he replied indignantly. 'He didn't wake up at all. He didn't even say he was sorry for me.'

'And why should he?' Helen asked severely as she pulled up an old-fashioned rocking chair and seated herself beside his bed. 'I was awfully ill. I could see Jean was frightfully worried,' he added gravely. 'Yes, and you should be ashamed of yourself! You're an extremely greedy little boy, and you've upset poor Jean!' 'Why do you say I'm greedy?' he asked, assuming an air of bland innocence. 'Because you knew where Jean put the bag of toffee- apples, and helped yourself to them, when she wasn't looking. Any boy who's eaten three toffee-apples deserves to be sick!' Jonathan considered this statement thoughtfully. 'It wasn't really three you know: it was four—counting the one she gave us,' he corrected calmly. 'Well, four then. It was very greedy, and you ought to be ashamed of yourself!' 'I was,' he admitted. 'That is, while I was sick! But now I'm better again, I don't feel so bad about it.' 'Oh, Jonathan, you really are impossible!' Helen told him with an unwilling laugh. 'And now, will you go to sleep?' 'I don't feel a bit sleepy, but ever so wide awake. Do you think you could tell me a story?' 'All right. What sort of story do you want?'

'Something exciting. Something about Captain Batts, and smugglers!' Helen, who had only the vaguest notion of the exploits of Captain Batts, made up an adventure as best she could, but she was well aware that her story lacked Max's touch when it came to actionpacked sequences. 'When do you think we can go back to the farm?' he asked sleepily, when she was finished. 'Oh, I don't know,' she replied vaguely. 'Later on.' 'Later on,' he murmured. 'You won't go back on your promise, will you, Helen?' 'Later on,' she said reassuringly, glad to see his eyes close. Only a nightlight illuminated the room and she thought as she gazed down at Jonathan's long eyelashes lying fanned against his cheeks how blissfully innocent he looked, like a sweet little cherub. Gently she smoothed his pillow and tucked the sheets under his chubby chin. As she sat back gently rocking in the dimly lit room, she heard the car drive into the yard and the sound of Alice's and Ondine's voices in the hall as they discussed the events of the evening. Then she heard the door open softly and murmured sleepily, 'Poor little Jonathan, he's gone to sleep at last, Jean. Just put the soda water on the table. I'll give it to him if he wakes up.' 'Poor little Jonathan, unsympathetically.

my

foot!'

a

deep

voice

said

Helen was instantly awake. She swung around to find Max standing in the doorway. Under his arm he carried a bottle of soda water. He crossed the room and placed it on the bedside table. 'Jean asked me to bring this up. I can't imagine why you're all fussing over the wretched child. It's his own fault if he's sick. I believe he guzzled Jean's store of goodies.' 'Hush!' She put her finger to her lips. 'They're both asleep now.' She felt flustered. She was sure Jean had deliberately contrived it so that Max would find her here in the children's room. But how difficult it was to appear natural, after that highly theatrical departure from Corina's party! Max, however, seemed to have forgotten the incident. He sat down on the end of Tobin's bed. 'Careful, you'll wake him!' Helen warned. 'Nonsense! He's sound asleep. And don't try to put me off!' he added. 'I can't imagine what you're talking about,' she protested. 'I'm referring to the formal notice I'm to receive tomorrow. Do you think you might be persuaded to reconsider your decision, if I told you I agree that you were treated abominably tonight?' 'But there's nothing to forgive,' she said stiffly. 'It's natural you should prefer Corina's company: You knew her long before I came to Medhurst. Anyway, everyone says that you and she -' 'Will you listen to me and stop waffling on like that!' he growled. 'What I wanted to tell you—only you wouldn't give me the chance to explain at Ladyfields—is that I had a very good reason for

leaving you in the lurch. You see, when Corina said her father wanted to see me, it was merely an excuse so that she could tell me that her father had met with an accident.' 'An accident!' Helen exclaimed. 'Oh, he wasn't badly hurt! Although he had a cut on the head, and looked pretty gory. He collided with another car just outside the gates, and had himself taken to his room by a back stairs. The idea was to keep it as secret as possible, because he didn't want to put a damper on things. I had no idea when Corina called me away from the party that it was to be anything more than a short business chat. Ronald Manville is one of those men who get brilliant ideas at the most awkward times. Although he wasn't badly hurt Corina was naturally upset, and that's why I was delayed.' Helen felt almost light-headed with relief. So this explained why he had been comforting Corina as they came down the stairs together! 'I didn't know,' she said lamely. 'How could you,' he returned rather dryly, 'when you would give me no chance to explain! But now that you know the truth, are you still going to present me formally with your notice? You know, I was particularly intrigued by the word "formally". You don't, by any chance, intend to present it on a silver salver?' Helen found herself trying to stifle giggles. 'I suppose I sounded silly and pompous.' 'Yes, you did,' he agreed. 'I now formally withdraw my notice,' she told him demurely.

'Good! You've taken a weight off my mind!' He leaned forward and kissed her lightly on the lips. 'And now I think it's time we left these two characters to their anything but innocent slumbers.' Like two conspirators, they tiptoed to the door. Before it closed behind them, Helen turned to look at the two cherubic faces on the snowy pillows. 'Don't they look angelic?' she whispered. She expected one of Max's more caustic remarks, but instead, he said quietly, 'You're fond of children, aren't you?' She looked at him in startled surprise. 'But of course! Everyone is!' 'Not everyone!' He shut the door quietly behind him. 'It seems to me, Helen, that nowadays only old-fashioned girls really like children.' 'In that case, I'm rather glad to be old-fashioned,' she told him as they went downstairs. Her hand was in his and somehow it seemed the most natural thing in the world that in the hall he should take her in his arms. 'A kiss to make up,' he said. As he released her, Alice came out of the sitting-room. 'Oh there you are, Helen! I thought you'd gone home ages ago! Ondine drove Jean back to the Golden Galleon. It appears she has had rather a hectic time, but all's well that ends well!' She yawned. 'Well, I don't know how you two feel, but I'm sleepy. It's not often I indulge myself in a party, but Corina's always seem to be so successful. Although I must say I don't care for the way she's changed the house: it's much too modern for my taste. The diningroom is a perfect horror: it would certainly give me indigestion if I had to have my meals there. I didn't say it to her, of course,' she added virtuously, 'because the buffet was extremely good. I did

enjoy the lobster mousse! And do stop making efforts to keep your face straight, Max,' she added with a smile. And suddenly the three of them burst into peals of laughter. When she found herself once more in her own little domain with the door shut Helen found herself strangely wakeful. When she had been seated by Jonathan's bedside she had been sleepy, but now she felt restless and in the mood to do something exciting and a little silly. But it was a bit late now for enjoying herself. She had managed to make the most horrible mess of what could have been a terrific party. Perhaps next time But would there be a next time? Was she taking too much for granted? She had fallen in love with Max, but although he had held her in his arms and had kissed her, he had not said he loved her. Perhaps she had been building castles in the air! But it was fun to build castles in the air, even if one had to face the possibility that they might collapse like a pack of cards. She warmed some milk, then settled herself against her pillows and tried to concentrate on a paperback. It was just beginning to hold her attention, when there was a soft knock on the door. She got up, threw a dressing-gown around her shoulders and went into the sitting-room. 'Helen, it's me—Ondine!' she heard a voice call urgently. Surely the twins had not managed to create another crisis, she was thinking, as she opened the door. But one glance at Ondine's expression dispelled that fear. 'I suppose you think I'm an awful nuisance, but I happened to see your light burning, and I couldn't sleep either, so I thought I'd come over for a chat.'

'I'm so glad you did,' Helen told her. 'I feel so excited and keyed up I can't sleep.' 'One always feels that after a party,' Ondine agreed. 'But I must say I didn't think you were there long enough to get into the mood. Jim and I were in the shrubbery, when you shot past with your hair flying in the breeze.' 'Oh, Max and I had a bit of a tiff,' Helen told her. Ondine nodded. 'I'm not surprised. I can't imagine how any girl could put up with him.' Helen switched on a radiator and Ondine slumped on to the sofa. 'But then he couldn't stand the men I was interested in either— except Jim! I think he has a sort of grudging admiration for him, because he's a good vet and is utterly straight. I'm afraid I spoiled things by complaining about Jim. Max took my part. He felt I'd been let down, but I know now it was all my own stupid fault. You see,' she added thoughtfully, 'Max is a frightfully loyal person, and he felt he had to take my part, although he as good as let me know Jim wasn't to blame.' 'And what exactly were Jim and yourself doing in the shrubbery?' Helen asked mischievously, glad that Ondine was too engrossed in her own affairs to pursue the reason for her quarrel with Max. Ondine looked confused. 'Oh, we were chatting about this and that!' Then she added, with a rush, 'Helen, you're the first to know. Jim has proposed. He's going to Africa for the next three years; he'll be working out in the bush and he wants me to go with him. It's the sort of life I'd love,' she added enthusiastically. 'I suppose lots of girls might have been put off by the idea, but I'd simply revel in it. Later on we can come back to Medhurst—or to some small market town—and Jim can take up where he left off. I'm

sure I'll be a great help to him in his work, because I do love animals.' 'Yes, I think you'll make a perfect wife for him,' Helen agreed. In time Ondine would lose her bossiness, Helen knew. Already there was a new softness. Her brusque manner was toning down. 'Then you'll be getting married soon?' she asked. 'Just as soon as we can make arrangements! Max will probably be delighted to get me off his hands, and I know Mummy will simply revel in all the preparations. You will be here for it, won't you? You're not thinking of leaving, or going to another job, or anything like that?' 'No, of course not!' But the question had given Helen a faint sensation of unease. 'No, not unless I get the sack!' She forced herself to smile. 'There's no chance of that! I can see Max thinks you're a model secretary. He would never sack you, unless he had an awfully good reason, and somehow I don't see you giving him reason.' 'You make me sound very dull and conventional,' Helen said lightly. 'You're anything but!' Ondine assured her. 'But on the other hand, you're not a Joyce Cartwright!' 'Sometimes I wish I was like Joyce Cartwright,' Helen told her a little wistfully. 'It must be fun to be wild and reckless, and keep throwing your bonnet over the windmill.' 'Yes, perhaps for a while! But once you've flung all your bonnets what happens then? Joyce was too obvious, and Max began to get

frightfully peeved. I think in the end he couldn't stand the sight of her. All the same, I think he felt a bit nervous about giving her the push. He never admitted it, of course, but sometimes I used to think he'd given her a bit of encouragement.' Helen felt a little warning bell tinkle in her heart. Had he kissed Joyce Cartwright—as he had kissed her that evening, and had the girl taken it to be more than a casual embrace? Had Max even thought that she, Helen, had expected it? 'What's wrong? You're looking frightfully glum!' Ondine remarked. 'Oh, nothing really!' Helen said quickly. 'But I've suddenly realized that the future looks a bit lonely. My friend Jean is going to be married fairly soon. And now you! I'll miss you both. Although I know Jean is going to settle in Medhurst. She's fond of the place, and she certainly wouldn't find a prettier spot in the whole of England.' 'Yes, and I'll be back too! I know I'll be crazy about Africa, but a part of me will always want to come home. Probably by then you'll be married and, who knows, you might have a couple of kids!' 'Don't, please!' Helen protested, laughing. 'I want to enjoy my freedom for a bit longer!' But did she? When Ondine had taken her departure, full of her future plans and glowing with happiness, it struck Helen that for her the future lay ahead, unresolved. I must be one of those fuddy-duddies who want nothing more than a home, husband and children, she thought grumpily, as she plumped up the cushions before going back to bed.

But once again she found it difficult to sleep. Ondine's visit had not relaxed her. Instead, it seemed to have pinpointed her problems and intensified her discontent. As the weeks slipped by the first touches of autumn began to show on the trees, turning the leaves brown; occasionally a chill little breeze sighed through the conifers. In these weeks Max treated her as no more than an efficient and co-operative secretary. She saw less of him too, because daily he was visiting an outlying farm where major reconstruction had been put in hand before winter set in. Ondine, wrapped in blissful happiness, was not a satisfactory companion, and Jean seemed too busy with her own affairs to visit often. It was to Alice Helen turned: for in spite of Alice's air of vagueness, Helen had discovered that her character had a solid underlying layer of shrewdness. Often, when she had nothing better to do, she would help the older woman with the housework, listening with half an ear while Alice chattered on about family affairs, and the doings of the local eccentrics. It was almost a relief when the twins once again began to harry her concerning a visit to the Kirkby farm. 'If we don't go now, it will be too late. Everything will be all frozen,' Tobin announced. 'The decision doesn't lie with me,' she reminded them. 'But I'll speak to your uncle about it, if you like.' 'Yes, do that,' they chorused eagerly. 'And remind him, he promised! And that a gentleman never breaks his promise. Aunt Alice told us that.'

'Well, we'll see! But I'm not altogether sure your uncle will agree.' So, after tea one evening, Helen returned to the house with the intention of reminding Max of his promise to the twins. She found Alice in the kitchen, her elbows covered with flour, 'I'm making a blackberry pie,' she announced cheerfully, as Helen came through the door. 'You can keep your strawberries and melons and exotic fruits. I think there's nothing to beat a nice plump ripe blackberry. The twins picked me two canfuls this afternoon and of course they're stained purple from head to foot.' 'I can smell it now,' Helen told her. 'It has that deliciously sweet, tart scent. Isn't it a pity they can't bottle it? It would make a wonderful perfume.' 'What about a cup of tea and a nice slice of pie?' Alice offered hospitably. 'I'll be taking it out of the oven any minute.' 'Not just now, thanks,' Helen returned. 'I want to see Max—that's if he's in.' 'Oh yes, he's in,' Alice replied dryly. 'But I shouldn't say he's in a particularly receptive mood—that's if you're looking for a rise in salary,' she joked. 'I'd need more than a cup of tea and a piece of pie before bearding him about a rise in salary,' Helen laughed. 'It's really about the twins I want to speak to him. They're keen to go down to Kirkby's farm, and Max promised to take them back some day.' 'Well, you can try,' Alice said dubiously, 'But I'd say he's in one of those moods when he'd say no to almost anything. It seems the builders have made some horrible mistake in the additional rooms to the farm, and it's going to cost an awful lot of money. I'm afraid

Ronald Manville isn't going to be too happy when he hears about it. It's not Max's fault, of course, but he seems to be blaming himself for the whole affair.' 'Oh well, he can but say no,' Helen said philosophically. But as she knocked on the study door she realised that, if he should refuse, it would be almost as big a disappointment to her as to the twins. It would be fun driving through the Autumn countryside to be met by Mrs Kirkby's welcoming smile, and to be seated in the old-fashioned farmhouse kitchen enjoying a good Kentish tea. When Max gruffly told her to enter, she decided that Alice was right: he was definitely not in the best of humour, and she must present her request as tactfully as possible. He was putting down the 'phone as she entered the room and he looked up and said a trifle impatiently, 'What's the trouble? I can see you're going to present me with a proposition I won't be particularly keen on.' Startled, she said, 'How on earth do you know that?' 'By your expression! I think I know you pretty well by now, Helen. I only hope you don't know me as well as I know you.' 'No, I don't believe I do,' she agreed. 'I suppose my reactions are pretty obvious. Perhaps,' she added dryly, 'that's where I've made my mistake.' He stood up and crossed to the fire. 'No, don't change, Helen. I like you just as you are. Now, what's the problem?' She seized her advantage. 'It's the twins! They're very keen to go back to the Kirkby farm.'

'Well, I'm afraid it's not on. I'm too busy at the moment, for one thing.' 'But there's no need for you to go,' she said quickly. 'If you can't manage, I could take them.' 'No, I won't consider it,' he replied. 'This is the worst sort of weather to go to the marshes. The mists blot everything out, and if I know the twins they would be wandering about all over the place.' 'Oh, but I'll take great care of them!' she assured him quickly. He shook his head. 'You might mean to, but I doubt very much if you'd be successful. When Eunice comes home I want to be able to return the twins to her in one piece. They're much too wild and unmanageable to be let loose on the farm.' 'But you promised!' she insisted. 'So I did! But that was before Tobin wandered off and got into a scrape. It's better to break a foolish promise than to have something happen to the boys. If they did come to grief, of course, it would be all Eunice's fault for bringing them up so badly, but she'd hardly look on it that way, if one of them happened to disappear in the marshes. No, they can put the whole idea out of their minds: they're not going near the farm.' Helen felt her anger rise at this blunt refusal. 'Tobin said that a gentleman never breaks his promise,' she said acidly. He looked amused. 'Are you saying I'm no gentleman? Well, perhaps you're not far wrong! But then I've never pretended to be one! Come now, Helen, don't look so disapproving ! You must

know it would be disastrous to let the twins loose on the Kirkby farm!' But she was not to be mollified. 'If you've made up your mind, there's no point in discussing it any further,' she said stiffly, as she marched from the room and closed the door none too gently behind her. Outside she found the twins looking disconsolate. Tears glistened in Jonathan's eyes as he said reproachfully, 'And Uncle Max promised he'd take us!' 'You've been listening at the keyhole,' Helen said accusingly. 'Oh no, we haven't,' Tobin protested, shaking his head violently. 'But we happen to have remarkably good hearing. Isn't that so, Jonathan?' Jonathan merely nodded, much too dejected to give his usual enthusiastic support to his twin. 'We thought he'd listen to you, Helen,' Tobin pursued, 'because Aunt Alice says he likes you better than anyone else. And after all,' he added, warming to the part, 'it wasn't asking too much to take two motherless twins down to the farm for the day, and give them a breath of fresh air.' No, it wasn't, Helen agreed mentally. What Tobin had said pricked her vanity. Why had Max refused her request? Was it to prove to her that he was not to be cajoled, that she was just Helen Carrington, not Corina Manville, who could twist any man around her little finger!

'My, you do look cross!' Jonathan said admiringly. 'It would serve Uncle Max right if you never spoke to him again after going back on his word like that.' 'Oh, do run off, children!' Helen said a little irritably. There were times when she found the twins a little too much. When she reached the kitchen her cheeks were flushed and her eyes bright with anger. Alice was leaning over the stove and removing a golden-crusted blackberry tart oozing with purple juices from the oven. She placed it reverently on the table and then drew off her thick oven gloves. 'There!' she said triumphantly. 'It's one of my best, though I do say so!' Then, glancing at Helen, she said, 'So your mission failed! But I did warn you that Max was not in a receptive mood.'

CHAPTER ELEVEN 'HE simply wouldn't listen,' Helen burst out, plonking herself down at die table. 'The twins are desperately disappointed. They don't get so many outings, after all.' 'No, I agree with you,' said Alice, fetching plates from the dresser. 'But then none of us do! The highlight of my year was Corina's party. But then it's my own fault that I don't go around more. Max is always trying to persuade me to be more sociable. But I think I'm one of those domestic homebodies who are happiest within the four walls of a house. But now, as a consolation for your disappointment, I'm going to give you a huge mug of scalding hot tea and a wedge of my pie. I put a jug of cream away in the larder where the twins couldn't find it. Now let's forget about our figures and have a really cosy time!' The kitchen was cosily warm and in spite of herself Helen found her anger evaporating. Blackberry pie with cream really was delicious! As to Max's veto concerning the trip to the farm—well, there might be a way around that! Thoughtfully she helped herself to more cream. Suppose she were to take the twins in spite of what he had said! She would watch them like a hawk during their entire visit. And afterwards, even if the twins did chatter about their outing, it would be past history, and no harm would have been done. It would be nice to prove to Max that she was quite capable of controlling the children. But there was more to it than that, she had to admit to herself. She had been so sure he would agree that it had been mortifying to discover that she had no influence over his decisions. 'You look thoughtful,' Alice smiled.

'I was just wondering if I could take the twins to the Kirkby farm some day when Max is off on business. I could have diem home again before he returned. I hate to let them down, especially when they were promised. I don't think Max realises how keenly children feel that sort of thing. Sometimes I wonder if he ever was a child himself!' Alice smiled. Indeed he was! And quite a handful, I assure you! But I really wouldn't consider that scheme for a minute, if I were you. It's not the sort of thing he'd pass over. You see, he happens to be pretty fond of the twins, although he hides it most of the time. If anything were to happen to them, he'd never forgive himself.' 'But nothing would happen to them,' Helen insisted. 'I'd keep an eye on them all the time. I think Max is exaggerating,' she added crossly. 'He was putting me in my place and in a quiet kind of way telling me to keep my nose out of affairs that don't concern me.' Alice looked at her in distress. 'Oh, you mustn't think that! I'm perfectly sure he didn't mean anything of the sort. But if I were you, Helen, I'd put the whole thing out of my head. I'd hate you and Max to be at loggerheads. You're part of the family now, Helen. You fit in so well, and have adapted yourself to our peculiar ways. I'd hate to see you go, and some stranger come in your place.' 'Thanks,' Helen said warmly. 'In that case, I'll be a good little girl and do as I'm told.' It was a pity the twins were to be disappointed, she told herself, but she felt a horrible little clutch at her heart at the thought of enmity between herself and Max. She found Alice watching her shrewdly.

'You've let yourself care for Max too deeply, haven't you?' Helen nodded mutely. 'Well, don't look so dismal about it,' Alice laughed. 'It does a girl no harm to fall in love.' 'But I didn't want to fall in love,' Helen protested. 'And it's easy to see he doesn't care twopence for me. I suppose if I had any sense I'd clear out, yet I hate the thought of having to leave Ladyfields.' 'But why should you?' Alice asked crisply, as she got up from the table and gathered up the dishes. 'And as for being in love with Max, that will be a secret between us. No one else need know.' 'Thanks,' Helen said gratefully. 'And now,' Alice added, briskly practical as usual, 'what about helping me to arrange the wedding presents? It's amazing the amounts that have been arriving. Some of them are really lovely, beautiful patchwork bedspreads and handmade rugs, but others are wildly impractical. For instance, I just don't see Ondine using fish carvers, and we've already received at least four toast-racks.' Soon Helen found herself deeply involved in all the excitement and bustle as the wedding preparations were put in hand. The twins also took a deep interest in the proceedings. 'I saw a photo of the cake,' Tobin announced rapturously, 'and they're going to put it in the Medhurst Courier. It looks simply scrumptious. It has three tiers and is all covered over with wriggly icing and on the very top there's a silver horseshoe and a little man and a woman holding hands. I expect it's meant to be Jim and Ondine, although it's not a bit like them. I wonder,' he added pensively, 'if you could eat them?'

'What on earth do you mean by that?' Helen asked, startled. 'Well, they might be made of marzipan,' he replied hopefully. For a moment the twins contemplated this idea ecstatically, then dissolved into screams of hysterical laughter. 'What's all the hilarity about?' Alice asked as she entered the room. 'It's Ondine's wedding cake,' Tobin told her, sobering up. 'Jonathan and I are booking the little man and woman on the top.' 'You can book away,' Alice told them, 'but you can put the idea of going to the wedding out of your minds.' Tobin's face fell. 'Not going to my own cousin's wedding !' he exclaimed tragically. 'No, you're going to stay here until we return,' Alice told him. 'Then we'll be on our own in the house! That will be fun,' Tobin brightened. 'No, you certainly won't be on your own! I'm getting a baby-sitter from Medhurst. She'll stay with you until after the reception. But we'll bring a nice big piece of cake home for each of you,' she added by way of consolation. 'But we're much too big to have a baby-sitter,' Tobin informed her with dignity. 'No doubt you are,' Alice agreed, 'but on the other hand, you're too mischievous to have the run of the house. I dread to think what damage you would do if you were left on your own.'

The twins relapsed into mournful silence and Helen, by way of compensation, asked, 'How would you like to help me decorate the church?' 'You'd really like us to help you?' they asked, brightening immediately. 'Yes, Ondine has asked me to do the decorations and I've decided to make use of what's left in the garden. Those bright chrysanthemums and berries and cones from the conifers would be nice against the old grey walls of the church. Perhaps you would fill a big basket with anything you think would look pretty, like red or purple berries and sprays of yellow or bronze leaves. Afterwards we'll select what we need.' The boys, she was pleased to see, seemed to regard this as an exciting form of treasure-hunting. A peaceful silence hung over the house as they diligently scoured the autumn garden armed with an enormous wicker basket. Later in the day they returned jubilant, the basket brimming over with masses of autumn colour. 'Just what I wanted!' Helen told them approvingly, much to the twins' delight. Later the boys trotted down to the old Norman church with her and spent an enjoyable time fetching and carrying as Helen concentrated on her arrangements. They walked back to Ladyfields through the crisp autumn air, highly satisfied with themselves. Alice met them at the door. She was holding an open letter in her hand. She seemed anything but pleased with its contents.

'I do hope you haven't had bad news,' said Helen, when the twins had disappeared from view. 'Well, yes and no,' Alice replied. 'It's a letter from Eunice. It seems she has been having second thoughts about leaving the twins and has decided to come home.' 'Oh, that means she'll be taking them away, doesn't it?' Helen experienced a little hollow feeling of loss as she followed Alice into the sitting-room. 'I didn't think I'd miss those two little rascals,' Alice admitted, as she plumped down in an armchair. 'But they certainly bring a bit of life to the house. And now that Ondine's leaving, there's bound to be a gap. It's strange, isn't it, when one thinks how we all dreaded their arrival.' 'I'll miss them too,' Helen told her. 'I simply hate telling the twins,' Alice went on. 'I know they love it here. There's plenty of space for them to run about. It's the kind of background that every child should have. Of course, they were bound to go sooner or later, but I must say I'm not at all happy about Eunice's decision. I only wish,' she added wistfully, 'that Max would make up his mind and get married. A few children about the place would make all the difference in the world to this old house!' For a moment she regarded Helen thoughtfully, and Helen knew that Alice would have welcomed her confidences. 'Oh, I expect he and Corina will get hitched up one of these days,' she said lightly.

'I wonder!' Alice replied dubiously. 'He's certainly known her long enough to have made up his mind.' Again there was a pause, and Helen said, 'When are you going to tell the twins? I mean, about their mother coming back?' Alice sighed. 'Later on. I just don't feel up to it at the moment. Perhaps this evening! They're so frightfully dramatic and intense about everything, it's quite wearing.' That evening, as Helen relaxed on the sofa, the radio playing softly at her side, she heard the twins' shrill voices as they crossed the yard, and their footsteps thumping on the stairs as they raced up to the door. They burst in unceremoniously, their eyes suspiciously red. 'Oh, Helen,' Jonathan wailed, 'isn't it dreadful! Mummy's coming home and we're going away from Lady- fields.' 'Yes, and now we'll never see the red hens,' Tobin lamented. 'Red hens?' Helen queried. 'Yes, the yellow chicks at Kirkby's. They don't grow up into yellow hens, you know. Instead they turn red, and Mrs Kirkby said she'd show them to us when we came back. We made an appointment, you see,' he added solemnly. 'Do you think, Helen, if you asked Uncle Max again, he might let us have just a peep at them?' Jonathan asked. She shook her head. 'I'm afraid your uncle has definitely made up his mind that you're not to go.'

Anyway, she told herself, she simply could not bring herself to ask again—only to get a second refusal! 'Isn't it rotten!' Tobin pronounced dejectedly, plonking himself cross-legged on the sofa. 'We can't go to the wedding, and we can't go to the farm!' Had Max any realisation of how bitterly disappointed a child could feel when it was denied a promised treat? Helen was asking herself. She felt a little glow of anger begin to burn as she saw Jonathan's lip tremble. After all, they were not asking much! And did Max really think she was so irresponsible and incapable that she would be unable to mind two small children for a few hours? Alice had warned her not to defy Max by taking the boys herself. But now the germ of a plan began to grow in the back of her mind. Suppose she were to ask Jean to accompany them! With Jean to help her no harm could possibly befall the children. They could drive down to the farm, spend no more than an hour there, and be back before he knew they had been absent. 'Perhaps I could take you,' she told the boys, 'but your uncle isn't very keen on the idea, as you know, so I think we should keep it a secret. It will be more fun that way. And anyway, he might be cross if he thought we were going without him.' 'Why? Does he want to go to the farm too?' Jonathan asked innocently. 'Of course not!' Helen replied. She felt flustered and guilty, but was now determined to carry her plan into action. 'He thinks you might get lost in the marshes, because the mists are sometimes heavy at this time of the year.'

'Oh, but we wouldn't wander away!' Tobin told her with an air of shocked surprise. 'We might get lost, like the babes in the wood, only there are no leaves to cover us—at least not much!' 'Only twigs,' Jonathan added after a thoughtful pause. 'But of course, twigs would do, as long as they weren't too prickly.' 'I'm going to ask Jean to come with us. It's her half day at the Golden Galleon tomorrow, and I'm sure she'd enjoy an outing as much as we would.' The twins expressed approval. Jean was now a firm favourite of theirs. 'But suppose,' Tobin put in practically, 'Uncle Max were to see us driving off and stop us!' 'I know,' Jonathan put in excitedly. 'We could hide under the rug on the back seat, and he wouldn't know we were there.' Later Helen phoned Jean only to find that she would be unable to get away on the following day owing to a farmers' conference which was being held at the Golden Galleon. Helen put down the receiver feeling that she could not draw back now that she had promised the twins, but weighed down with the thought that if anything should go wrong she alone would be responsible. Next day as they set off the boys crouched down in the back of the car giggling as they pulled the plaid rug over their heads. Helen, mentally kicking herself for her folly, swiftly drove towards the gates. She knew that Max had walked into Medhurst and had been hoping to be well clear of Ladyfields before he returned. But, as

luck would have it, she had just turned on to the road when she saw him approach from the opposite direction. He waved and she waved back airily, feeling horribly guilty. When they had turned the corner and were out of sight of the gates, the twins struggled from underneath the rug, screaming with laughter and waving their arms and legs deliriously in the air. 'Wasn't it a scream!' Tobin choked. 'There we were under the rug and Uncle Max didn't even guess!' 'Yes, because we kept as still as mice!' shrilled Jonathan. 'Oh, do sit back and behave yourselves,' Helen said, nervousness making her voice sharp. 'You smuggled us out, just like in a story!' added Tobin. Helen almost groaned to herself. Tobin's remark had brought home to her only too clearly the foolishness of her actions. Smuggle them out! That was exactly what she had done! She must have been mad, she told herself. Why did she do such foolish things? Was it to prove to herself that although she loved Max, she was free of him and not under his thumb? As they drove towards the farm, the bright autumn day became overcast, and a cold, damp mist began to gather in the hedgerows and ditches. Soon the countryside seemed bathed in a dismal grey veil. Helen longed to turn back, yet something in her was loath to admit defeat. When they came to the narrow lane that led down towards the farm, she slowed the car to a crawl, fearful of crashing into the bordering stone walls. When they drove into the farmyard, Mrs

Kirkby emerged, peering in astonishment as the twins bundled out, followed by Helen. 'Well now, I didn't expect you!' she exclaimed. 'But come in. I'm sure you're ready for a cup of tea.' It was evident to Helen that their arrival was not exactly welcome and that Mrs Kirkby was doing her best in spite of that to appear hospitable. 'It was a lovely day when we set out,' Helen exclaimed lamely as she went into the kitchen with the farmer's wife. 'Oh well, you've arrived safe and sound, and that's the main thing,' Mrs Kirkby replied without much conviction. 'I'm sorry my husband is not here to meet you, but he promised to help out on a neighbouring farm and this is the first free day he's had.' The twins, however, were happily unaware that their arrival was hardly welcome. They tucked into the meal with a good appetite and then, jumping down from their chairs, asked if they could go into the yard to see the hens. Helen hesitated. She glanced inquiringly at Mrs Kirkby. 'Oh, they'll be all right in the yard,' the farmer's wife told Helen reassuringly. 'I'm quite sure they'll be good boys and not stray far.' 'Oh, we'll be as good as gold,' they assured her, already half way to the door. When they had gone, Mrs Kirkby gradually began to expand, gossiping about her neighbours, and life in the marshes in general, and Helen listened engrossed.

Glad to have an attentive audience, the farmer's wife rattled on. Helen didn't notice time passing. Then, with a start, she realised that silence now reigned outside. She jumped to her feet and raced to the door. But the yard was deserted, except for a few bedraggled hens. The mist was thicker now and she could only faintly discern the tussocky grasses of the marshes. Panic-stricken, she shouted the boys' names, but the mists seemed to fling the words back. 'If only my husband were here!' the farmer's wife lamented. 'He knows his way in the marshes. I'll phone him and get him home as soon as I can.' She hurried away, and Helen waited, pacing up and down the kitchen in a fever of impatience. The phone was evidently in the hall of the house and in a few seconds it became clear to Helen that Mr Kirkby was working in some distant part of their neighbour's farm and that there would be delay while they contacted him. She turned and hurried out into the yard and as she ran across it she called the twins' names over and over again. This time she heard Jonathan's voice, piping and shrill. Vaguely she discerned his small figure. He was covered in muddy slime and was shivering with cold and fright. 'Helen,' he sobbed, 'Tobin has fallen into a horrible muddy old hole and I can't get him out, though I tried very hard.' He took her hand and pulled her after him and soon she found herself feeling her way along what seemed to be a narrow firm path threading through tufts of coarse grass. On either side were deep slime-filled holes. They found Tobin where he had slipped into a patch of slimy mud. He was not really far from the house,

but was firmly stuck and try as she might she could not pull him out. To her astonishment, he was in remarkably good spirits. It was clear that to him this was all part of a delightful adventure, and she realised that he had no idea of the danger he was in. She glanced desperately in the direction of the house. Soon, she knew, the mists would get thicker and they would be completely lost to sight from any rescuers who might come to their assistance. Everything depended upon Mr Kirkby arriving as quickly as possible. She knelt down beside the patch of quagmire and held Tobin's hands tightly, trying to smother her fears and wait quietly for rescue. 'Do you know, Helen,' Tobin remarked conversationally, 'I'm awfully glad I wasn't a smuggler. It would be awfully uncomfortable to be stuck here all night, the mud is so cold and clammy. I think, on the whole, I shouldn't have liked to have been Captain Batts.' 'Oh, it was utterly idiotic of me to agree to this in the first place!' Helen exclaimed desperately. 'Oh no, it wasn't,' Tobin told her cheerfully. 'When Mummy comes she's going to send us to school, you know, and I'll be able to tell everyone I was almost drowned in the Romney Marshes. I'll probably be a great hero.' 'How did you get into this pickle, Tobin?' Helen asked gently. 'You promised you'd be good, you know.'

'But it wasn't our fault,' Jonathan put in. 'One of the red hens flew over the wall, and we went to get it back.' She sighed. 'I'm sure it will be able to find its way back when evening comes.' Jonathan looked sheepish. 'When we ran after it, it flew back over the wall,' he admitted. Helen stole a glance in the direction of the house. If only someone would come! The damp seemed to penetrate her very bones, and her arms were stiff and numb from holding on to Tobin. 'Shall I run back and see if anyone is coming?' Jonathan suggested. 'No, you'd better stay here. All that will happen is that you'll get lost too.' It was then Helen heard the far-off sound of a car approaching. This would be Mr Kirkby returning. They were bound to be rescued soon. And when they were, she would drive the boys straight home, although now it would unfortunately be impossible to hide the fact that Max's prophecy had come true. Soon she heard the sound of a door slamming. 'Now call out with all your might so that Mr Kirkby may be able to find us,' Helen urged. 'Help!' screamed Jonathan. 'We're here, Mr Kirkby!' Tobin shouted. Helen joined her voice to those of the twins, and after a while they heard footsteps swishing through the tussocky grass.

'Oh, Mr Kirkby, I'm so glad you've come!' Helen gasped as a figure loomed up beside her. 'Sorry to disappoint you! It's me, Max.' She looked up to see Max's tall figure standing above her. She felt a horrible sense of shock. Max Renton was the last man she had expected to find them. She ventured a few halting words of explanation. Ignoring her, he concentrated on releasing Tobin. Then picking him up in his arms he carefully edged his way back towards the road, feeling for each footstep before he placed his weight on it. Helen, stepping in his footsteps, followed with Jonathan's small figure clinging to her hand. Tight- lipped, Max drove towards Ladyfields as swiftly as the mists would allow. Helen sat by his side, utterly wretched. She rehearsed several little speeches in her mind but rejected them, fearful of bringing a storm down on her head. When at last the twins had curled up on the back seat and had fallen asleep, he said suddenly, 'What on earth possessed you to do such a stupid thing?' 'I don't know,' she murmured in a small voice. 'It was just that the boys were so disappointed and -' 'No, Helen!' he interrupted. 'Let's face it! You resent me, isn't that it? You consider me too autocratic?' 'Oh no!' she exclaimed in dismay. 'You needn't deny it,' he continued, his voice harsh. 'You deliberately took the twins here in spite of me, just to show me that you're not going to be dictated to.'

She sat silent, numb with misery. She longed to tell him that she loved him with all her heart. But this was something that could not be said. Instead she asked in a small voice, 'How did you know we were here?' 'Jean had more sense than you. When she saw the mist rising, she phoned me to ask if you were safe. Of course, this was all a mystery to me until she told me you phoned her yesterday inviting her to join you in this trip.' She turned and stared out of the window. 'Here, have a good cry. You'll feel better.' She felt a handkerchief being tucked into her hand. 'Thanks,' she said huffily, 'but I've no intention of crying.' 'Tomorrow is Ondine's wedding day,' he began after a moment or two. 'What do you say, you and I call a truce for the wedding? And by the way, have you noticed that weddings seem to be in the air this weather? There's Ondine and Jim, and Jean and Jack Bell, and now the latest news is that Corina is to marry Mike Kendall.' Helen stared at him unbelievingly. 'Marry Mike Kendall? But I though that Corina and you were -' she blurted, then stopped. 'I shouldn't have said that. It's really none of my business.' 'On the contrary, it's very much your business! Oh, I agree that there was a sort of unspoken understanding that Corina and I would marry some day. But then you came and suddenly I realised that things between Corina and myself couldn't continue on the same footing.' 'What?' she began, then was silent, willing him to go on.

'Yesterday we talked things over: I told her exactly how I feel about you. I thought it best to have things out in the open, rather than to let them drift indefinitely. It was then she told me she intends to marry Mike Kendall.' But Helen felt certain that this was a face-saving gambit on Corina's part. Her feminine vanity could not endure the thought that Max had thrown her over for another woman. 'Then Mike has proposed?' she asked. He glanced at her, a mischievous smile touching his lips. 'Now that you come to mention it, I don't believe he has. But I have no doubt whatsover that he'll be a willing victim. Corina is a woman who likes to rule other people's fives— especially the lives of the men in her immediate vicinity. And Mike is ambitious. He must know that, as Corina's husband, he'll reach the top of his profession.' Yes, it was all true, Helen was thinking. And how accurately Max had read Mike Kendall's character! 'Yes, this was one of the things where Corina and I didn't see eye to eye,' Max continued. 'She's a very fascinating and a very beautiful woman, but acting her adoring slave is not a role that particularly appeals to me.' So Corina had overplayed her hand, Helen was thinking. She ought to have known that such tactics would not work out with Max. 'Well, now that marriage bells are ringing out on all sides, what do you say you and I take the hint? I'm asking you to marry me, Helen.' 'Oh, Max!' she breathed.

She felt her head whirling. It was almost unbelievable that the misery of the past few hours could have changed to such delirious happiness. She snuggled close against his shoulder and rubbed her cheek on the rough material of his coat. Strange to think her place from now on would be so close to him! He glanced down at her. 'Do you know, you're a positive danger, Helen.' 'Now what do you mean by that?' she murmured dreamily. 'I mean that I feel an overwhelming temptation to put my arm about you, and these lanes are much too narrow to permit such a thing.' 'I shouldn't mind the danger,' she told him. 'I feel too happy to care about anything.' 'But I do care! You see, I'm planning a long and happy future. And what do you say we take tomorrow to choosing a ring? Now what's your favourite stone? Is it to be the conventional diamond? Perhaps not, for you're not a very conventional person, are you?' he added. 'No, not a diamond,' she agreed. 'D'you know, Max, I've always dreamt of a star sapphire. It sounds so beautiful.' 'It will be easy to make that dream come true, Helen,' he said in a low tone. 'Let's hope I can make all your dreams come true!'