Summer at Awakopu

SUMMER AT AWAKOPU Robyn Donald

He was a "love 'em and leave 'em" man Janey Bowden could never cope with man like Theo Carrington--a man who had captured hearts and cast them aside at his pleasure. And Janey was the kind of selfless, untouched young girl Theo had never known. "You're a fool to love me," he told her savagely. "Go away before I forget the last bit of chivalry I have left!" Janey had to obey. But would she spend the rest of her life longing for a man who needed no one?

CHAPTER ONE AT Awakopu if you fished off the wharf on an incoming tide you could almost always get sprats in the boat basin, and there was nothing Shai, the arrogant, elegant Siamese cat, loved more than sprats. So it was a fairly common sight to see Janey Bowden make her. way down the road with the cat following closely behind. Once Janey had heard tourists commenting on the two of them. It had been early morning so their voices had come clear and unmuffled across the water. She acquitted them of any desire to hurt, for they had no reason to believe that she could hear every comment, and after all, Shai was an exquisitely graceful creature while she was gawky and clumsy, all long arms and legs and untidy red-brown hair—but it had hurt to hear herself described as looking like the Scarecrow from The Wizard of Oz. It was after that incident that she had taken to tying her hair back from her face in a ponytail which, as her mother commented, at least had the virtue of neatness. Janey hadn't needed the remark to know that the style didn't suit her, but what could one do with a face all bones and angles? Even her one good feature, her eyes, were the oddest shade of amber and tilted slightly at the corners, which quite overshadowed the fact that they were large and nicely surrounded by dark, curling lashes. Janey had given up on her looks just as she 'had given up trying to fit into her mother's ideal of what an eighteen-year-old girl should be. Not, she thought glumly, that you could blame her parents for finding her an enigma. Penelope, her older sister by three years, who was pretty and smart as paint, had just spent two very successful years at university in Auckland. She was going to be a lawyer; had every chance of achieving her ambition and in between the hard study necessary found time to live a full social life. When Penny was home the telephone

never stopped ringing. She was fun, outgoing and gay and vital, and Janey loved her dearly but had not the slightest intention of conforming to the pattern Penny had originated. Everything was quiet except for the call of a lone seagull drifting in from the sea. Janey loved this time of the morning when Awakopu was hers, all still and fresh under the cool jays of the newborn sun. It didn't last for long, for people rose early here. Before long there would be cars on the road and the sounds of the world getting ready to face the new day, but for the moment it belonged to her. Her rubber thongs slapped quietly on the grey-black tarseal of the road. There was a footpath to one side, but it had never been concreted and the long grasses there made her legs sticky with a glue-like substance. Behind came the cat Shai, keeping up a running commentary in Siamese, a kind of trilling mew. A blackbird flew up from behind a hedge, its bill vivid gold in the sun, sleek and black and busy, for it held a beakful of worms. Shai stiffened, then decided to ignore it. Out on the little point which marked the bend in the river one brave early pohutukawa was flowering, its brushlike flowers deep crimson against the eucalypts on the far bank. Janey heaved a great sigh. After six years in New Zealand her memories of England were dimmed and she found it hard to believe that any place there could be as beautiful as Awakopu, in spite of her mother's yearning for a softer, more tranquil landscape. No one could call Northland tranquil, she thought appreciatively. It changed every few miles from lush pastures and English trees to craggy hills covered in the native rain forest, from the smooth rounded ash cones of long-extinct volcanic explosions to the twisted eroded remnants of lava plugs. And everywhere was the sea, never far from this east coast with its harbours, islands and peninsulas, its blue and

sparkling waters and gold-white beaches. Janey loved it with a love which was as deep as it was unspoken. The boat basin was an almost circular pool of green- brown water. At the head of it a small river cascaded over a low ledge of rock which marked the tide-line; from the other end began the slow wind through mangroves which at last brought the river to the sea some five miles away. Many tourists visited Awakopu, for it was beautiful, there was much of historical interest in the area and its climate was sub-tropical, so that citrus and kiwi-fruit orchards and great market gardens were found there. If you ware cruising in the north on your yacht it was a good place to provision up, for the petrol and water supplies were on the wharf and the grocery store was right at the water's edge. The shop was not yet open, but from the caretaker's cottage behind the old Warren house came a rich baritone voice singing of a lost love, so the Phillips family was astir. Warren House was now a museum, the beautiful gardens about it a park where tourists could wander, admiring the flowers and shrubs of the Victorian era. It was very lovely but a trifle too civilised for Janey's taste; she admired the peacocks which swept gracefully across the lawns but loved the ordinary old ducks which swam in the stream and quacked and dived for bread. Vulgar and common they might be, but they had vitality and energy! Another yacht had come in overnight, an ocean-going cruiser if the self-steering vane at the stern was anything to go by. It was tied up to the wharf, so it must have come up in darkness too thick to find a mooring in the basin. Which meant a skilful sailor, Janey decided. The river channel was well marked, but it would need an experienced yachtsman to make it in the dark—unless it was Red Thomson who boasted that he could do it drunk or sober, asleep or wide awake. He said his boat felt its own way up the channel without any help from

him; Janey almost believed him! His rusty, workaday tub was out now, so there would be fresh fish later in the day, because Red was a commercial fisherman. Shai perched on the top of a pile, watching the gulls with cool interest. Janey grinned to herself, baited her hook and dropped the nylon line over the edge of the wharf. Shai would lose her aloofness when the first* silvery sprat was hauled up. As sprats were her favourite food the sight of them reduced her to the same level as any ordinary cat eager for a meal instead of a fastidious aristocrat. Unfortunately they didn't appear to be biting. Janey sat contentedly, long legs dangling, amber eyes gleaming beneath dark brows as she surveyed the wooded hill across the little basin. A warm feeling of well-being, a contentment which was part of the freshness of the summer morning washed over her. Closing her eyes, she lifted her face to the sun. When next she looked Shai had gone from her perch and was nowhere to be seen. Janey scrambled to her feet as she looked anxiously around, biting her lip. Kipling's elephant child had nothing on Shai when it came to insatiable curiosity, and yes, there were the marks of her paws in the thin film of dew across the coachhouse of the big, recently-arrived yacht. As softly as she could Janey walked over to the edge of the wharf. 'Shai!' she hissed, kneeling down so that she was almost on a level with the yacht. No answer. 'Damn you, cat!' she muttered, and called again, but Shai remained incommunicado. Sitting back on her heels, Janey considered the situation. The last thing she wanted to do was to wake a probably weary set of yachtsmen by yelling threats at her cat, but if she didn't Shai was quite capable of waking them herself by walking over their sleeping faces, one of her less endearing habits. There was no doubt

that she had gone below; her footprints left a clear trail across the floor of the cockpit. Peering worriedly down, Janey couldn't decide what to do. Trust Shai, the arrogant, the incalculable, to get herself into a situation which would bring no odium on her sleek head but expose her mistress to considerable embarrassment! And then the dilemma was solved. A deep masculine voice said something, the door into the cabin slid aside to open to its fullest extent, and out came Shai, not a hair ruffled, in the arms of a large, fair, very handsome man. As Janey watched, open-mouthed, Shai patted his chin with one lavender paw, then leapt gracefully on to the deck making that sweet chirruping sound which is the Siamese purr. 'Well!' Janey exclaimed. 'You—you wanton, you!' The man laughed, a lazy somewhat mocking sound on the still air. 'Cats are amoral animals. Does she usually wake you by walking all over your face?' 'Oh dear!' Janey returned guiltily, casting a glowering look at the culprit who was by now washing her face with elaborate unconcern. 'I'm terribly sorry. She is very curious.' 'A dangerous but completely feminine trait,' he said solemnly. He had unfairly long lashes beneath which were set grey-green eyes, very keen and intent; they were laughing at her now as if they had shared a joke together. An odd sensation made itself apparent in the pit of Janey's stomach, a kind of pang which was half pleasure, half pain. After so many years in New Zealand she had become quite accustomed to men who, like Shai's latest conquest, wore no shirt, but no man's physical features had ever impinged on her feminine awareness as this man did. It was hard to drag her eyes away from those broad tanned shoulders or the crisp curling V of hair across his chest, the easy stance as he stood in

the cockpit smiling up at her. She was nervous and as shy of him as if he posed some threat to her instead of being a rather pleasant man who had been most charitable about his rude awakening. 'It's all right for her,' she said as coolly as she could. 'Nobody can put her out of countenance.' 'While you look only too easily tipped off balance. Who are you?' 'Janey Bowden.' He grinned, put out his hand, and when she bent to take it, pulled her down into the cockpit with him. Janey gasped, but he forestalled her exclamation. 'I'm Theo Carrington, and as your cat woke me up I think you owe me your company for a few minutes.' 'I'm meant to be fishing,' she objected rather half-heartedly. She didn't want to stay with him in the narrow cockpit, but she didn't want to go either. A most unusual state of affairs for Janey, who was not interested in the opposite sex! 'For her ladyship?' He jerked his head towards Shai and when Janey nodded said calmly, 'Serves her right, then. Wait a moment.' The moment was a minute or so. Janey perched on the stern admiring the self-steering gear with a rather bewildered expression in her amber eyes. She had a weird sort of feeling that she was being taken over by a superior will and she didn't like it, didn't like the awareness which must have caused such a peculiar reaction. Theo Carrington was rather fabulous and he knew it, he was so completely confident and sure of himself. That was what good looks did for one, Janey mused gloomily, knowing full well that she was wrong. This man would have that immense self-assurance even if he were far from handsome. It was a

character thing, and it seemed that she had missed out both ways. As always when thinking of her own defects Janey's mind flew to her sister Penny. Penny was like Mr Carrington, gilded with the same gloss of sophistication and that bone-deep confidence. However, Penny was a darling; Janey was certain that that was not how she should allow herself to think of Theo Carrington. When he emerged from down below he was carrying two mugs of coffee and had pulled on a pale green T-shirt. Janey accepted the coffee primly, refused sugar and watched beneath her lashes as he sipped his black steamy brew. It was very still. The sun spilled across the green- brown water in a golden flood, strong enough to warm Janey's back through the thin cotton of her blouse but not quite hot enough to dry the dew. A fish splashed, making widening circles on the water, and from one of the old peach trees in the Warren garden a slug-abed thrush delivered his morning chorus, at least an hour late. Janey wondered if she should make conversation; a swift glance at Theo Carrington showed that he was smiling rather mockingly at her as if he knew what she was thinking. It was rather a tough smile, almost cruel. Janey knew very little about men, but even to her inexperienced eyes it was apparent that he was amused by her. An uncomfortable silence stretched between them, made worse by the fact that this—this awareness of him was for Janey strange and inexplicable and she had no defences against it. Rather desperately she asked the first thing which came into her head. 'Where have you come from?' 'Auckland.' 'Oh! Good trip up?'

He grinned, white teeth startling in the deep tan of his face, a tan which hadn't been manufactured by any New Zealand sun. 'Fairly good. And no, I don't know yet how long I plan to stay.' His teasing brought colour rushing to her high cheekbones and, shamingly, a film of moisture across her lashes. 'Hey!' he exclaimed, and tipped her chin up with his hand, the fingers hard and unexpectedly warm against her skin. 'You're too sensitive for your own good, Janey Bowden,' he said coolly, releasing her as her hashes swept down to hide her eyes. 'How old are you?' This made her feel more inadequate than ever. Eighteen,' she said crossly, adding with dignity, 'Just.' 'Just eighteen.' He smiled ironically. 'Thank God I'm well out of my teens. What are you doing—working, school holidays?' 'I've just finished school. We broke up a couple of days ago.' 'And what now?' The quick shrug she gave was revealing. 'I don't know.' 'No vocation?' A wry smile touched her lips. 'No, no vocation. I'm the dull one of the family.' He lifted a dark brow at her. 'Tell me about this family. You are English, aren't you?' 'Well—yes, I suppose so. Originally, anyway.' She hesitated, glancing at him doubtfully. He did not seem to be the sort of man who would find conversation with a schoolgirl interesting. How old was he? Twenty- nine, thirty, maybe, but he had an experienced air as if he had

packed a lot of living into those years. Yet he was watching her with cool speculation obviously waiting for her to speak. Oddly enough he was not difficult to talk to. Janey was normally reserved to the point of shyness, but as she spoke of her family she felt some of her tension ease away. Her deep voice warmed, emphasising the crisp clarity of tone which was part of her English heritage. 'We came out here six years ago when my father retired from the Army. His health wasn't too good and his doctor thought that the climate would help him and he has a sister in Auckland who sold him on the idea of emigrating to New Zealand. I don't think any of us regretted it.' She looked into her mug before draining the last few drops of coffee in it. 'Who are "us"?' he asked. 'My parents, my sister Penny who's three years older than me and my brother Paul. He is thirteen and not quite sure what's happening to him. In the last three months he's grown six inches, his yoke has broken and he's developing the beginnings of a beard.' Theo Carrington grinned, rubbing a hand over the stubble across his chin. 'He'll regret it,' he remarked. 'What does sister Penny do for a living?' 'She's at 'varsity in Auckland studying Law.' This surprised him. The dark brow lifted again. 'A clever lady indeed.' 'Pretty, too,' Janey said, irritated by something derisory in his voice. 'She does part-time modelling.' The green-grey glance sharpened. 'I detect an unconscious note of envy,' he commented. 'Don't you look in the mirror, Jane?'

She had been called Janey for so long that her given name was strange on his lips. And the compliment was insincere ... disappointing. He must think she was a silly little fool if he expected her to fall for flattery like that! With a contraction of her brows she shook her head, setting the mug down on the deck. 'I've more important things to do with my time than peer into a mirror,' she retorted crisply. 'And I must go or they will be wondering what's happened to me. Thank you for the coffee.' His smile mocked her sudden withdrawal, but he made no effort to detain her, saying goodbye with a kind of casual throwaway charm which annoyed her because she had no way of matching it.

'No sprats, dear?' 'No.' Joy Bowden sighed, but said nothing. Janey felt the mild bewilderment of her mother's gaze and only just stopped herself from shrugging. It was not fair of her mother to expect her to conform to the pattern Penny had set. Joy seemed to think that if Janey only tried a little harder she would immediately become a sparkling extrovert like her older sister! Even leaving aside the fact that she didn't have the physical equipment, being tall and gawky where Penny was petite and superbly co-ordinated, Janey knew that she had neither the temperament or the character to be anything like her sister. As she washed her hands and changed from jeans and a T-shirt to one of the frocks her parents insisted she wore indoors she wondered rather bleakly just what she should do now that she had left school. The trouble is, she thought gloomily, I don't want to work! I want to mooch around the place catching fish and sailing. If she were a man she would

like nothing better than to crew on one of the big yachts which regularly left for the tropics from the Bay, but no way were her parents going to approve of that for an ambition! Their hopes for their children ran on strictly conventional lines. Their older daughter's ambition to become a lawyer had startled them both, but after a few days of somewhat bemused discussion they had given her their blessing. Few people could withstand Penny when she was determined to get her own way! And Paul had decided when he was three that he was going to become a doctor, from which decision he had never deviated. Quite clearly he had a vocation, if the number of bandaged and cosseted animals which he had cared for over the years was any indication. Janey grinned, remembering the black-backed gull with its vicious beak and broken wing which had terrorised them for weeks, a succession of kittens rescued from the Basin, nursed and loved and eventually found good homes. Yes, Paul certainly had his future mapped out. Unfortunately when vocations had been handed out Janey had been somewhere else. In spite of her mother's remarks that it would be pleasant to have one of her daughters home with her Janey couldn't help feeling that such an aimless existence would solve nothing. If she worked she would probably hate it, but at least she would be paying her way. It was all very well for her parents who were of a different culture and generation to welcome the idea of a resident daughter, but in New Zealand no girl—no healthy girl anyway—sat around at home when she left school. Independence was a longed-for state, one to be welcomed. Janey rather thought she would have to work in a shop and knew that she would hate being cooped up inside day after day. Still, it would be better than teaching or nursing, which were the only other professions her parents considered suitable. Both careers gave their ungrateful daughter the horrors; she was not, she knew, made of strong enough stuff to cope with either.

'I see there's a new yacht in the basin,' her father commented over his coffee. He kept an eye on the happenings in the boat basin with the aid of a pair of binoculars. It had become an early morning and late evening ritual which on occasion had helped the locals. A couple of times rescue parties had gone out when the Colonel had noticed the continued absence of yachts which should have returned. He was now accepted as a kind of honorary harbour master, which pleased and gratified him and gave him a certain standing in the district. 'An ocean cruiser,' he continued, looking at his daughter. Janey grinned. 'His name is Theo Carrington and he didn't mind Shai walking all over his face and waking him up. He's up from Auckland.' 'Oh. Nice?' By this her mother meant was he the sort of person who would be welcomed into the Bowden household! As always this effortless division of humanity into two camps irritated Janey, but she had learnt to keep quiet about it. No one, she thought, could call her parents snobs, but they were fond of saying that there were certain standards they upheld, regardless of whether their children thought them hopelessly antiquated and stuffy or not. So she shrugged, ignoring the pained look in her mother's fine eyes. 'Nice is hardly the word, but if you mean suitable, I'd say so. He speaks like an educated man, and that boat didn't cost chickenfeed.' 'Janey, money has nothing to do with it,' Joy said quietly. 'Don't try to be provocative, dear.' Meekly Janey returned to the demolition of her grapefruit, undecided whether to be irritated or amused.

'It looks like a Smith design,' her father said now, looking down at the basin. 'You can always tell his yachts, they sit so sweetly on the water. And that bow... ,' he was off into technicalities understood only by himself and Paul. Stifling a sigh, Janey ate a piece of toast. To her the yacht had looked like a bird asleep on its natural element, a thing of grace and beauty which caused a nameless ache in her heart. No doubt that was the emotion her father meant to convey too, but he and Paul were well away into the jargon beloved of men and she preferred to think of the Toroa as the wandering albatross which was the meaning of her Maori name. But the lean mockingly handsome face of the yacht's owner kept springing to mind, etched clear against her thoughts like a silhouette. He even prevented her from thinking about her gloomy future, and that was something she had determined to waste no time before contemplating. Instead she found herself wondering rather wistfully what it would be like to own a boat like Toroa and sail wherever you wanted to go without worrying about earning a living. Theo Carrington must have some form of income, of course, but he had freedom. That was what Janey envied him fiercely as she made beds and dusted and hung the washing out on the line. It became very hot, almost as hot as it would be in February at the height of summer. The volume, of traffic increased as tourists flocked in by bus and car to visit the Warren house and wander through the beautiful grounds. Yachts and power boats chugged up the river towards the wharf to take on supplies of fuel and water—so many that at one stage there was quite a queue waiting. Janey stopped clipping the dead heads from the rose bushes to watch as suntanned women walked to the store to stock up on groceries and picture postcards. Children called and yelled and threw bits of ice-cream cone to the ducks who accepted them gratefully and the peacocks who walked .about spurning the offerings with utmost disdain.

Janey enjoyed the bustle, the air of gaiety and the holiday atmosphere while the other half of her longed for the stillness and silence of the morning. 'Janey!' Her mother's call made her start guiltily to clip off a few more dead heads. 'Janey, where's Paul?^ 'Down in the basin. With Dad.' 'Oh.' There was silence for a few moments, then her mother appeared on the shady terrace, a thin hand pushing faded blonde hair back from her forehead. 'I wanted him to mow the back lawn,' she said a little fretfully, 'but I suppose it would be better to do it later when it's cooler.' Janey nodded. After all these years Joy still found the summer heat hard to tolerate, especially when she was pushing herself as she was now to get everything spick and span for Penny's homecoming. This was another fortnight away, on the day before Christmas, but Joy was a perfectionist and thought that it would take at least that long for everything to be as neat as she wished. A feeling of great love for her mother swept over Janey. She went up the steps into the coolness of the vine-shaded terrace and put her strong young arm about Joy's thin shoulders. 'Sit down and I'll bring you some lime juice,' she said, trying to sound brisk and competent. 'Aren't you sleeping well?' Joy smiled faintly. 'Do I look that tired? As it happens I have had several restless nights. There's so much to do before Christmas .and I do want to have the place tidy before then. Janey, are you going to come to the Drama Club Christmas party?'

On the point of a flat refusal Janey caught the wistfulness in her mother's expression. With a sinking heart she realised that she could not add to Joy's burden by being unco-operative. 'Oh, Mum!' she protested mildly, 'You know parties aren't my thing.' 'Dear, you can't possibly know that, for you never go to them! How can you learn any social graces if you refuse to practise them? How do you think Penny gained her poise? Not by sitting at home and reading, or going flounder fishing on the mud-flats.' Janey smiled ruefully. 'Penny was born with all of the social graces at her fingertips,' she said. 'We're totally different, she and I, as different as a rose from a forget-me-not.' 'A forget-me-not has its own charm,' Joy returned swiftly and gallantly. 'Perhaps I used the wrong flower.' Janey smiled, touched by the unexpectedness of her mother's remark. 'I'm like the tangi-weed on the roadside, long and lanky and subdued, not very ornamental and of little practical use. Mum, I need to earn some money. Mr Harvey wants me to pick strawberries. May I?' 'Oh dear,' her mother murmured. 'Yes, I suppose so,' She looked up at her daughter, tall and long-limbed and enigmatic, before adding with low cunning, 'If you'll come to the Drama Club party with your father and me.' Janey laughed appreciatively, a clear, oddly provocative sound which seemed at odds with her appearance. 'O.K., you win! Now, I'll get you that lime juice.' When she reappeared with the tray, her father and Paul had arrived back home, and with them, she discovered with a strange tremor in her nerves, was Theo Carrington, very assured in shorts and thongs and a

shirt which was casual but well-bred. Janey expected her mother's usual reaction of faint disapproval at such informal attire; to her surprise she saw that Joy was as much aware of him as her naive daughter had been when first they met. He looked totally in command of the situation, directing towards Janey that half-mocking, half-speculative glance which had so irritated her, as her mother fluttered beside him. '... and Janey you have met,' she said somewhat distractedly. 'Shai too,' he agreed, stooping to stroke the Siamese as it wound sinuously around his ankles. 'Shai is quite shameless,' Joy said brightly. 'She belongs to my other daughter, Penny.' 'Ah yes, the prospective lawyer.' His voice was quite solemn, but there was swift amusement in the green- grey glance. Janey decided that she did not like him. He was arrogant with a kind of indolent, inbred assurance which made him so completely at home here that he could indulge himself in laughter at their expense. She felt a fierce, protective pride in her family and returned a fiery glance, daring him to comment any further, on Penny's ambitions—or anything else. 'Yes, she's doing so well,' Joy declared, her pride in her daughter transparent. 'Everyone is sure that she has a brilliant future ahead of her.' 'Don't believe in clever women,' Ian Bowden confided somewhat smugly. 'But Penny's one on her own. She's always known exactly what she's wanted and never let anyone stand in her way. And pretty as a picture with it.'

'She sounds a paragon,' Theo returned politely. Janey watched as her father hospitably produced and poured drinks. Joy accepted a splash of gin in lime; Theo drank rum and soda over ice. They all settled down to an exchange of social pleasantries which would reveal to her mother whether Theo was a respectable person to know. It was easy to see that Paul was enormously impressed with this big blond giant who possessed more than his share of worldly sophistication. He sat as close as he could, his light brown eyes never leaving the lean, clever face. The light chit-chat was predictably dull. Janey decided that it was time to go and began to slide off unobtrusively in her usual fashion. But it seemed that Joy had decided to haul her daughter willy-nilly into this peculiarly adult pastime. 'Don't go, darling,' she said lightly, directing a look of unmistakable meaning towards her. 'Mr Carrington won't mind your working clothes.' Miserably conscious of the fact that her denim shorts were as short and skimpy as decency allowed, Janey could only hope that it was clear that their brevity was because they were old and not any deliberate effort at allure or attraction! Carrington's cool; direct gaze rested for a moment on the tanned length of her legs, then one dark brow lifted. 'Not in the least,' he answered, and this time the irony was so plain that Janey wondered miserably why her parents weren't aware of it. He was sitting there, accepting their hospitality and the offer of friendship, and all the time he was laughing at them! How could they be so blind as not to see it?

In a tight, goaded voice she muttered, T thought I'd go and see about lunch,' not caring that she sounded ungracious and gauche. Reprovingly Joy returned, 'It's all ready, dear. Will you stay and have some with us, Mr Carrington?' and thereby signified her acceptance of him. He was all charm, accepting the invitation without hesitation. 'And how long do you plan to stay here?' Joy enquired. Janey kept her head averted, but could feel his glance on the profile she presented to him. 'I haven't decided yet,' he said pleasantly. 'If I like the place it might be all summer, otherwise I'll move on fairly soon.' 'Indeed?' Plainly Joy was nonplussed; just as plainly she had heard the note in his voice which forbade any further enquiry into his affairs. Janey felt her teeth clamp on her bottom lip momentarily. A sea-tramp he might be, but he was a man who possessed an uncompromising strength of personality which impressed all who met him. It was there in the harsh lines of his features, in the cool arrogance of his glance, in the firmly chiselled mouth which could quirk in humour, and probably, she thought dazedly, wondering why on earth such a thought should occur to her, which could harden into a ruthlessness akin to cruelty. There could be no doubt about his ability to influence other people. With a question hovering on her lips Joy closed them firmly, directing a look very close to an appeal to her husband. 'Plenty to see here,' Ian said abruptly, answering the cry for help. 'If you're interested in history there's the Warren place and the Pioneer Village at the back of it, as well as the steam railroad which runs

through one of the orchards and the collection of old machines they have there.' 'There's fishing,' Paul put in shyly. 'Janey and I go flounder fishing down the inlet a bit. And people are catching marlin out Of the Bay, even if it is a bit early for the main run of big-game fish.' 'Game fishing here is too easy,' Theo Carrington said. 'All the advantage lies with the fisherman. It's different in other parts of the world.' Pressed eagerly by Paul he told a story about catching a salt-water crocodile in Timor. Told it well, too, with a spare economy of words which conveyed more to his hearers than a profusion of adjectives could have done. As fascinated as her brother, Janey listened, completely absorbed by the deep, deliberate voice. He was not falsely modest about his part in the eventual death of the beast, but neither did he brag, and the two other men involved came ajive as he spoke. When he finished Janey saw Paul nod as though satisfied with Theo's integrity. She knew exactly what that unconscious movement of her brother's head meant. The man was definitely to be believed, for no one could have faked a story like that. A subtle change made itself apparent in her parents' attitude. They too had been impressed by the little story and were not to prepared to accept him fully in spite of their inherent distrust of men who roamed the seas without visible means of support! Indeed there would be few people who wouldn't accept the man at his own valuation, Janey thought, and that valuation was revealed in his massive self-confidence. People might suspect him to be dangerous or mistrust that easy, mocking charm, but he would certainly never be ignored or underestimated, for apart from the more obvious attributes like his handsome face and athletic body, he possessed an air of competence

which was reassuring. Theo Carrington was the sort of man on whom others depended, and it was quite clear that his shoulders were broad enough for any number of cares. Janey risked a look at him, met the lazy taunt of his eyes and was angry at the heat in her cheeks. He also, she thought defiantly, was the sort of man who could be quite ruthless in abandoning those who clung, and it might pay to remember that.

CHAPTER TWO JUST before dinner Ian, from his usual place by the window remarked, 'I see Carrington has moored his yacht on Harry Turner's old mooring.' Joy looked up from the evening paper, peering over the top of her spectacles. 'Has he, dear? I wonder how long he does plan to stay?' 'Probably doesn't know himself, yet. Pity he leads such a shiftless life. Possibly got private means and can't settle down.' Which, Janey could see, was going to be her father's theory from now on. Like her, he couldn't understand why a man who seemed as purposeful as Theo Carrington, a man, you'd have thought, who knew exactly where he was going, should be content to drift aimlessly from port to port around the world, for his conversation had revealed an intimate knowledge of many countries. Which led one to suppose that either he was a lot older than the thirty years or so he looked, or he had been on the move from a very early age. He didn't say which, and nobody cared to ask him. 'Possibly, dear,' Joy said now, still vaguely. 'I must say, he strikes me as being a very intelligent and interesting man.' Her husband gave an unexpected chuckle. 'Shouldn't think many women would say otherwise,' he commented. To her surprise Janey noticed her mother go rather pink and pat her hair self-consciously. 'He is very much a man,' she admitted. 'Paul is going to have a bout of hero-worship, I notice.' 'Do him good to admire a physical, outdoor type like Carrington instead of Louis Pasteur,' Ian said jovially. If the boy gets to be a nuisance I'll tip Carrington the wink and he can choke him off. Hope it

doesn't come to that. I should say he's fairly easy-going even if he doesn't suffer fools gladly.' No one asked Janey her views on Theo Carrington, which was just as well. She had decided not to think about him at all, so in spite of Shai's velvet paw patting her awake the next morning, she resolutely refused to go down and fish for sprats. All to no avail. When she went up to the village half a mile away to collect her mother's shopping he was the first person she saw as she climbed out of the car. He was standing in front of a durio shop, looking at the array of goods for sale with an expression of sardonic amusement. Perhaps he saw her reflection in the window as the car door closed, for he turned when she came on to the footpath. Unlike most of the holidaymakers and Janey herself, he did not wear sunglasses so she could see the tiny lines around his eyes which were indicative of long days spent in the glare of sun and sea. 'What a load of garbage,' he said, by way of greeting. 'Do you mean to tell me that people actually buy junk like that?' Janey looked apprehensively into the dark interior of the shop, hoping rather desperately that neither of the two elderly ladies who owned Sarah's Bazaar had heard his scornful comment. 'Yes,' she said, adding honestly, 'but not many, I'm afraid.' 'The New Zealand public has risen in my estimation,' he said ironically. 'This isn't a bad shopping area apart from that load of old rubbish.' She laughed. 'Have you bought your picture postcards?'

'No one to send them to.' 'Not even a dear old mum?' 'Not her style.' The sun struck gold from his hair as he stood smiling down at her. Janey felt that unnerving pang, the physical recognition of interest, deep within her stomach and knew a fear that was more than physical. Of course she could not obey her first instinct which was to run like hell in the opposite direction, but she thanked heaven for the sunglasses hiding her eyes, for they concealed the instinctive widening of her pupils. 'No doting great-aunts?' she said brightly, 'No languishing old flames?' He chuckled. 'Not a great-aunt within fifty years and toy old flames are usually glad to see me go. I treat them so badly, you see.' 'Oh. Love them and leave them. Typical sailor fashion.' 'Exactly.' The amusement faded from his face leaving it suddenly hard, almost predatory, and there was a dry note in his voice as he continued, 'Most women want a settled life with a house and a husband home at five-thirty. Women like roots, and I have none.' Janey considered this, trying to suppress an odd bubble of emotion which was colouring the world around her with excitement. And yet it was the same world she had despaired of a week ago, the same hot street, the same shops, the same tinselly Christmas decorations, even the same bare-kneed and sunburned tourists. 'Perhaps it comes with age,' she said. 'The desire to settle down, I mean. At the moment I can think of nothing more desirable than sailing off into tomorrow.'

That dark brow lifted as his gaze intensified. 'An interesting choice of phrase,' he remarked. 'You're a ' romantic, Jane Bowden.' Oddly enough the taunt didn't disturb her much. 'I've been called a lot of things,' she returned, 'and compared to some of them a romantic is pretty mild, even the way you said it.' He grinned, not unkindly. 'And that's as pleasant a way of shutting me up as any I know. Where are you going?' 'To the grocer's.' A swift scrabble in her handbag produced her mother's list. 'Yes, to the grocer's.' She looked a little shyly at him, unable to tell him that she had not meant to 'shut him up'. 'If you'd like to wait I can give you a ride back to the basin.' 'Normally I'd refuse with dignity, but I've got a quantity of groceries waiting for me at the supermarket and only a paper bag to carry them in, so I'll accept gratefully.' He intended stopping at the Post Office, no doubt to arrange for the collection of his mail, so after deciding to meet back at the car they went their separate ways. Mrs Bowden shopped at the middle-sized grocery store in Awakopu, saying that it combined the personal service of the small store with the efficiency of the large. The fact that the owners were English and kept a large store of delicacies from 'home' as they called their native land, might have helped make her decision when first she came, but she had never found any cause to change it. Apparently Theo had made the same decision and inevitably one of the shop assistants had seen her talk to him in the street. She was the same age as Janey but had been working at the shop for the two years since she had left school and considered herself an adult, unlike Janey who usually felt very much the schoolgirl when talking to her.

'That's a gorgeous man you were talking to,' she said now above the sound of the coffee grinder. Do you know him?' 'Barely.' Janey disliked gossip, but Janice was friendly and open, far from malicious, so she continued, 'He came in yesterday morning in a super yacht and Dad brought him up for lunch.' 'Lucky girl,' Janice said enviously, her beautifully cared for hands deft as she weighed out tomatoes. 'When he came into the shop my heart went bump-bump- bump like a piston! I hope he stays around for a while. I like those tall blond giants.' Janey grinned. 'You'd better not let Terry hear you say that!' 'Oh, Terry and I have split up. He was getting too serious which was rather flattering, but I don't want to get married for a while yet, and let's face it, Janey, I just couldn't see myself milking cows night and morning for the next fifty years.' Janey, who knew quite well that for all her surface glamour and sophistication, Janice was a competent and efficient farmer's daughter who would make some farmer a superb wife, grinned again but said nothing. 'What's your friend's name?' Janice enquired. 'Theo Carrington.' 'Almost sissy, isn't it? Blue vein cheese? Ugh, how you can eat that stuff I'll never know. I saw some under the microscope at school once—put me off cheese for the rest of my life. I wonder if Mr Carrington wants a job. Dad is desperately trying to get men for the haymaking season.' 'This early?'

Janice nodded. 'That's the trouble, you see. With the hot spring season we've had the hay is ready, but there just aren't the students around to help like there usually sure. And the high-school boys seem to prefer the orchards and market gardens; the work isn't so hard, I suppose, and it lasts all through the holidays.' 'Well, I'll ask him,' said Janey, then chuckling, 'or would you like to?' Janice shook her head, smiling wryly. 'No, thanks. He might think that I'm too forward and that haymaking is beneath his dignity.' But he was a New Zealander, and that meant that he didn't despise physical labour. When Janey mentioned it to him he looked thoughtful. 'It could be a good idea. Who taught you to drive?' 'My father; why?' 'He made a good job of it,' he returned. 'You appear relaxed and at ease behind the wheel, yet fully in control. Which is distinctly unusual for one of your age and sex.' 'You aren't by any chance a male chauvinist?' Janey asked sweetly, torn between pleasure at the compliment and anger at the implied patronage. 'You'll have to find that out for yourself,' he answered with unhelpful promptness. It almost sounded as though he intended to stay for some time. Some hitherto unknown emotion was born in Janey's heart and she found herself smiling faintly for no reason. 'Will you come in for a drink or do you want to go straight home?' she asked. 'Home. Unlike you I have work to do.'

She darted him an enquiring look, met eyes which were blandly uncommunicative and flushed slightly. As clearly as if he had said it aloud she had received a signal that questions would be unwelcome. So she nodded and concentrated on getting down the hill to the wharf without running down any ducks or tourists. Summer set in hot and dry, the land parching under the brazen bowl of the sky. All over Awakopu the pumps started up and their muted thudding became as much a part of life as the rainbows imprisoned in the great arcs of water which were jetted out by the irrigation sprinklers. Farmers began to look anxious and talk of a twenty-year drought while the market gardeners watched the level of the streams and dams carefully. Tourists flocked in, outnumbering the locals, it seemed, as the big coaches took them from historic place to historic place in the district. They were eminently happy, even those poor souls who misjudged the heat of the northern sun and suffered severely with sunburn, for seldom was the weather so kind to them this early in the season. Janey donned a huge sunhat and sunglasses, wore a bikini under her other clothes and picked strawberries, shedding layers of apparel as the sun climbed higher in the sky. Her skin tanned slowly to a golden brown as her fingers nipped the scarlet fruits from the plants and her bank balance began to assume a more healthy look. Seven days before Christmas the local business men organised a Christmas Parade. Everyone went, of course, those who weren't on a float joining the visitors on the footpaths to clap and cheer and exclaim as the parade went by. Paul was a Scout and would be marching with his friends, and both the Bowden parents were involved in the organisation, so were busy at the assembly point in the Domain. Janey washed the breakfast dishes after they had left, put on the best of her somewhat scanty wardrobe of sundresses, and set off for the village on foot.

Before she had walked a hundred yards she was picked up by friends of her parents who parked their car behind the supermarket and disappeared off to do some shopping. It was very hot and the town was crowded, but Janey walked under the feathery branches of the melia trees alone, tall and thin and gravely watching as people flowed past her. A toddler, no older than a year and still unsteady on her feet, stumbled in front of her. Swiftly Janey bent and caught her before she had time to fall, and the little girl gave her a charming smile as she was restored to her mother. 'Well done,' someone said over her shoulder. 'Theo!' And suddenly even the tinny Christmas carols blaring forth from the loudspeakers became imbued with sweetness and Janey smiled. 'You're brown,' he said, touching her bare arm in what almost seemed a caress. 'Come and keep me company.' 'How's the haymaking?' He tucked her hand into his elbow. 'Hot and dry and hard, but I've enjoyed using a few muscles again. We've just about broken the back of it, I think. Another couple of days will see an end.' 'It's been an incredible season. I wonder if it will last, or if we'll have rain all through January and February.' 'I hope not, as I intend to stay here until March.' 'Oh!' It was absurd and more than probably very dangerous to be so happy, but Janey could not prevent a surge of elation which brought a smile to her lips. Contentedly she allowed him to guide her through the throng of shoppers to a vantage point outside one of the banks, aware of the interest in people's eyes as they saw the two of them together.

She exchanged greetings, introduced Theo to several people and watched as he charmed them all effortlessly, from the school friend who discovered in herself an intense interest to see how Janey was getting on, to the grandmotherly Mrs Farnham who thought him a very nice young man. Men liked him too. In fact, he had become a sort of social lion. He had been to dinner twice at Mrs Bowden's insistence and had proved highly successful with both sexes. Altogether a paragon, she thought wryly, watching as a pipe-band marched past heralding the parade. He was the stuff heroes were made of, as Paul had discovered, and she rather felt that she was going to be afflicted by the same hero-worship, though he behaved to her like a tolerant, rather high-handed brother. The parade was fun. Janey clapped the floats, waved to Paul who ignored her resolutely, cheered the trick cyclists and the clowns and sighed with pleasure when it was all over. 'Have you any shopping to do?' Theo asked. Janey looked up into a teasing smile and flushed. 'I know it's childish, but I do love parades,' she said defensively. 'My dear girl, don't apologise. You're a child, so why shouldn't you enjoy childish things? As a matter of fact I enjoyed it myself.''Don't be patronising!' she retorted, temper flashing gold sparks in her strangely coloured eyes. An answering gleam lit the depths of his glance. In measured tones he said, 'Childhood ^has an innocence which is intensely appealing, as you must know. It's easy enough to ape the sophisticate, but nothing can ever recapture a lost innocence. I was paying you a compliment, silly girl!'

'Would you like it if someone called you a boy?' she asked swiftly. Came his swift spurt of laughter and an outflung hand acknowledging a hit, but his expression was . sombre as he said: 'Touche, sweet Jane, but it's long years since I had any claim to innocence. What are you doing now?' 'Nothing,' she murmured, bewildered by the change in subject. 'Then come with me. Leave a note at home for your parents and I'll take you to a beach I discovered a few days ago.' For a moment she hesitated, but a recklessness she had not possessed until that moment made her nod her head, and after that she was swept along on his swift tide-race of personality. He had a car, now; medium sized and extremely comfortable, brand new, she noticed. And when she had changed into shorts and left a note for her mother they went like conspirators down the hill to the basin. The runabout slipped through the mangroves which lined the river with the minimum amount of noise. Janey sat in the stern watching with half-closed eyes as the writhing roots and twisted grey trunks slipped past. Theo obeyed the rules and went no faster than five knots, unlike others who sped past, their wash tearing at the fragile ecology of the mangrove swamps. When the river broadened into an inlet the mangroves receded and Theo turned the runabout towards a series of low cliffs and coves on the southern side of the inlet. Janey was absorbed with interest, for there was no road access to the beaches on this coast, and as the deeper water ran by the northern coast most of the floating traffic kept away from this less favoured shore. The sun beat down fiercely on her head and shoulders, splintering light from the water so that instead of blue it was white-silver. The

pohutukawa trees blazed like crimson and scarlet torches against the pale cinnamon hills. Janey sat silent, spellbound by the beauty of it, scarcely conscious that the boat was nosing in towards a tiny half-moon of rose-pink sand sheltered protectively by three huge, old-man pohutukawas, their crooked limbs seeming to caress the air. The sudden silence as Theo cut the engine startled her. He was smiling but said nothing, leaving her to soak in the beauty in a kind of wordless communication which she had never known existed. After a long moment she swung over and on to the sand beneath the milk-warm water. Theo joined her and took her hand carelessly in his, drawing her across the scorching pink beach into the shade of the great trees. Beneath their feet the fallen tassels of the pohutukawa flowers made a thick, dull red carpet. 'This is beautiful,' she said softly, vibrantly alive in every fibre of her being. 'I've never been here. It is the Matthews' farm, isn't it?' 'Yes.' 'I wonder why they left the bush as a backdrop when they cleared the land.' He shrugged, powerful shoulders moving easily beneath the thin cotton of his shirt. 'Who knows? Just be grateful for its presence. Do you want to explore?' 'Yes, please,' she said simply, content to let her hand rest within his for as long as he wanted it there. The little bay was backed by perhaps two acres of flat land where cabbage palms with spiky heads lifted great, sweet-scented flower clusters to the sun and clumps of flax bushes rustled in the breeze, their flower stalks reaching up like surrealistic antlers. A little stream ran

chattering down from the forested hillside, to sober up as it wound its way across one side of the valley and through the pink sand in a shallow fan of water. It was icy-cold and clear, unpolluted by anything other than the leaves from the karaka and karo trees which were predominant on the forested hillside. Great tree-ferns, the ponga of the Maori, held their Catherine wheels of fronds high beneath the canopy and there were long trails of vines looped from branch to branch amid all of the lush greenness of the supporting shrubs and trees. 'It doesn't look as though cattle have ever been allowed through here,' said Janey, enchanted by the luxuriance and the fresh beauty, wishing that she could think of something poetic to say in appreciation. 'Not within a lifetime, anyway,' Theo answered. He gave her hand a tug and pulled her up a steep bank to stand beside him on the brink of a tiny waterfall. 'I longed for this sometimes, when I was away from it all, but when I pictured it there was always the sound of the cicadas in the trees.' 'It's too early for them yet,' Janey murmured. 'They come in the new year.' Nodding, he looked around, his eyes very keen and intent as they surveyed the vegetation and the stream. 'I'm glad I came back. The world has a lot to offer, but one's home country is part of one's being.' 'How long were you away?' Janey asked shyly. 'Ten years.' He slanted a sardonic glance at her. 'I was a very raw twenty when I left home determined to prove to myself that I could make my own way in the world. I scraped and saved and worked and got myself enough money to fit out a very small version of Toroa, and like all yachties I left for the islands.'

Janey nodded. 'The islands'. Thus all New Zealanders referred to the gems which dotted the south seas with their musical names—Rarotonga, Fiji, Samoa, Tahiti were only a few. Islands of enchantment and trogicsd magic, near enough to fly to for a fortnight's holiday, yet a different world. As he said, there was a constant stream of yachts which headed north to cruise among the coral atolls and volcanic high islands each year after the hurricane season had passed. Most came back before the next hurricane struck; some few used the islands as stepping stones for the wider world, and some, snarled by enchantment, remained. Perhaps the sigh she gave had something of envy in it, for Theo nodded, his astute grey-green glance resting quizzically on her face. 'Poor Jane, are you imbued with wanderlust; too?' he asked, and there was only a thread of mockery in the deep voice. 'I wouldn't recommend that way of slaking it. You meet some rough types in waterfront dives.' 'Is that where you got your scar?' It was just above his left eyebrow, thin and white against his tan, about two inches long. Nodding, he said coolly, 'It was a broken bottle, Fortunately wielded by a woman, so not too severe.' Badly shaken, Janey stared. 'A woman?' she asked faintly. 'A woman.' Theo didn't expand on the subject; instead he told her of the dangers of pirates when one sailed in Indonesian waters and described the life of a pearl fisherman in the Persian Gulf, the joy of an-oasis^ in the desert and the incredible clarity of light which played over Greece and its islands.

Completely absorbed, Janey listened to the-deep voice, unconsciously noting every inflection and shade of expression as if filing the memory of it away for some dreary winter day when the rain slashed against the windows and everything was dark cold and miserable and Theo Carrington was long gone from Awakopu. Not that she realised just how much she was allowing herself to react to the man. Merely it seemed that suddenly the air was brighter, the sky bluer, the bush more green and refreshing. Perhaps it was that afternoon out of time which started a process so insidious that she had no idea of its beginning. He even managed to coax her favourite fantasy from her. Those unusual eyes missed nothing, for as they moved down the slopes of the hill to the little flat he asked, 'Why do you look around so carefully as if you were measuring something?' She smiled, and flushed slightly, but drugged by the sun and the sea did not hesitate in her answer. 'I was fitting the house in.' 'The house?' 'Yes. Whenever I come to a place I fall in love with I amuse myself by fitting the right house into it.' He didn't laugh, or look tolerant as she was half afraid he might. Instead, he demanded, 'Well, tell me about this house.' 'Something low tucked in among the trees. With a terrace and lots of windows to take advantage of the view. And a tiled floor so that it would be easy to sweep the sand out,' she returned lightly. 'A house it would be difficult to see from the sea.' 'A hideaway?'

'So that it wouldn't spoil the look of the coast.' She turned and looked at the tree-clad hills behind them, breathing deeply of the salty, moist, fruitful air, the blending scents of sea and bush. Overhead a gull called forlornly as it wheeled ins a great circle, silver against the sky. 'It's so untouched,' she said softly, afraid that she had made a fool of herself. 'Beautiful,' he agreed, an odd note of withdrawal in his voice. When Janey looked up at him the handsome features were remote, almost chilling against the warmth of the sky, although his eyes had the sheen of burnished metal. A faint feather of unease made its way down Janey's spinal colum; she gave a shiver and, suddenly afraid, turned and walked down the hill away from him. 'Janey, you must stand up straight!' Joy sighed as she watched her daughter jerk herself upright with a guilty start. 'Please try to remember,' she went on plaintively. 'You spoil the look of all your clothes by slouching like that. Now, are you ready?' Janey nodded glumly. She was not looking forward to the Drama Club Christmas party, but a bargain was a bargain and her bank balance was now in a very healthy state because her mother had given in over the strawberry picking. Not that it would remain like that for long; Christmas had a debilitating effect on the money she managed to save during the year, and this year she had decided to buy herself some clothes. This was a very recent decision made, when on arriving home after the afternoon out with Theo, she had discovered to her horror that the only dress her mother considered suitable for party-going was an appalling outfit about two years old. Apparently jeans were not acceptable at adults' functions, so she was forced to wear a pale green patterned

cotton which made her look like an overgrown schoolgirl, emphasising the length of her arms and legs and the sweeping line of her body from throat to hip. Storks had nothing on her when it came to length; she was positively ostrich-like, she thought sourly. The sound of her mother's voice made her scowl, but in all fairness she had to admit that if she had wanted a new dress she had left things far too late to get one, and justice meant a lot to Janey. So she replaced the scowl by a smile, straightened up and even permitted Joy to dab her with lavender water before collapsing into a chair and ruining the entire effect. 'Janey!' 'Oh—Mum!' she sat up and threw her mother a rueful smile. 'Let's face it, love, your younger daughter isn't ever going to turn into a swan, unlike Penny, who was born one.' 'You have a thing about Penny,' Joy complained. 'I know that life has come easily to her, but you've let her success strip away your confidence, dear. And even she wasn't born knowing how to conduct herself properly.' 'Don't you believe it,' Paul observed flippantly from behind the sofa where he was peering through binoculars at the boat basin. 'My lady Penelope was born knowing exactly how to conduct herself. The difference between her and Janey is that Penny is quite sure she's God's gift to mankind, whereas poor old Janey thinks it's terribly kind of humanity to accept her as one of them.' Mrs Bowden looked at him with something like horror in her fine eyes before saying feebly, 'You should be past the age of trying to capture attention by talking about things you don't understand, Paul. You haven't altered the setting of those glasses, have you?'

'Yes,' he said nonchalantly. 'But I always put them back to Dad's setting, and if he doesn't know they've been touched he doesn't complain. I say, there's Mr Carrington being picked up by that girl Talbot. The one with the dyed hair.' Which was a direct slander as Phyl Talbot did no more than frost the ends of her gloriously silky tresses. At least that was what her expensive and exclusive hairdresser in Auckland did. Phyl Talbot belonged to a pastoral family with branches all over the country, most of them wealthy, all of them possessing that casual air of sophistication which was part of Theo's stock-in- trade too. Phyl lived a few miles out of town with her parents on a large cattle property. She had gone away to boarding school and was now at university in Auckland—wasting time, Penny had scoffed, until she found a nice rich man to marry. She was very pretty in a fine- boned, elegant way, and if Theo Carrington had been admitted into that sort of society then his credentials must be impeccable. Looking across at her mother Janey saw that the identical thought had occurred to her. Joy's eyebrows were raised and she looked thoughtful., When her husband came into the room muttering as always about being forced to go put, she told him in very casual tones what Paul had seen. 'Easy enough to see that he's no tramp,' Ian snorted. 'Well, are you ready?' His wife and daughter exchanged resigned looks; Paul chuckled as he picked up his guitar, and they set off.

CHAPTER THREE AFTER they had dropped Paul off at the home of one of his friends where he was going to spend the night, they made their way to the hall. Awakopu was exceedingly fortunate in its hall, for it had been planned very carefully and. because of a bequest there had been no stinting of money. So in spite of the fact that it was thirty years old it was still exactly what it had been built to be, a community centre. The Drama Club had decorated the big supper room with roses and ferns, opened the French doors on to the terrace overlooking the river and strung fairy lights through the trees in the garden outside. It looked very gay and very festive. Unfortunately for Janey, it seemed that every woman there had decided to dress to the hilt. 'Little Orphan Annie,' she thought, not without a certain grim humour, as she followed her parents through the foyer. The green dress seemed to become more and more conspicuous every moment in comparison with the pretty kaftans and party dresses she could see all around her, but it was not until her startled eyes fell on the fair head of Theo Carrington that she realised just how much she disliked looking so dowdy and unfashionable. Fervently hoping that he wouldn't see her for the entire evening, she determined to find some quiet corner and hide in it, but to her horror he looked across the intervening heads, caught her eye and smiled. And she smiled back, oddly warmed by the sly laughter in his glance. After the first astonished look Phyl Talbot seemed quite pleasant: possibly, Janey thought, determined to extract the last ounce of misery out of the situation, because she could see that Janey was no competition. Whatever the reason she was sweetly deferential to Mr and Mrs Bowden, charming to Janey and only too obviously smitten with Theo. And he seemed to be enjoying the situation. Janey didn't know exactly what emotion gleamed in those narrowed eyes whenever his glance met Phyl's, but the girl was excited, almost overwrought,

her colour high in her cheekbones and her voice slightly shrill. There could be no doubt that Theo had an effect on her almost as powerful as a drug. It was impossible to conduct any sort of conversation for. the band had swung into a tune. People began to dance. From the corner of her eye Janey saw Phyl melt into Theo's arms as if that was the only place she wanted to be. Such naked longing made a desolation of Janey's heart. She knew little of the relations between men and women, but it was easy to see that Phyl was in the grip of something she did not want to resist and Janey rather thought that she herself was suffering from an overdose of Carrington charm, if that was what, you could call it. Somehow charm seemed inadequate; what Theo had was a kind of physical magnetism which was reinforced by the fact that he had the looks of a blond Viking, and an authority which came from deep within him. A dangerous man, dangerous even to Janey Bowden who was not profoundly interested in the opposite sex. Fortunately the evening was not a complete disaster. After half an hour or so spent listening to her mother chatting to various friends Janey felt a tap on her shoulder and turned. 'Sam!' she exclaimed, her pleasure bringing some fleeting beauty to her expression. 'Sam, when did you get here? I thought you were spending the summer digging up iron ore over in Western Australia.' Sam was big and dark and exactly the same age as Janey. He was the one male apart from Paul and her father with whom she felt completely at ease, probably because he treated her as if he was the older brother she had never had. Sam loved humanity and humanity reciprocated. Part Maori, part Jugoslav and part Scottish, he wore all of his ancestors with a cheerful irreverence which usually reduced

people to shocked giggles but lost him no respect. He was going to be a doctor and had just done his firsts year's pre-med at university. Now, being Sam, he kissed Janey between the eyes and said gaily, 'No, I got a job in the freezing works for the vacation, so I came steaming up here to my favourite girl. Listen. Janey, I love you devotedly, but that dress is a shocker. Isn't it about time you emerged from the chrysalis?' Janey grinned. 'Drop dead,' she returned amiably. You're fight, of course, but don't depress my ego any further, there's a good boy.' He laughed, greeted Mr and Mrs Bowden and then swept her off to dance, remarking, 'You know, I've missed you, love. A tall gawk like you shouldn't be the best dancer I've ever partnered, but you are. Like thistledown on your feet—but a good, satisfying armful as well.' A bubble of laughter floated from her. 'Sam, you are an idiot,' she said happily. '"Your one and only jig-maker",' he quoted with a mock-solemn air. 'I say, who's the Nordic god with the sweet Miss Talbot draped over him like an extra skin? He's just given me a very funny look.' 'Theo Carrington,' she said somewhat primly. 'Oh?' He lifted his brows at her. 'That was almost an old-fashioned glower I got. Is he making a play for you? Because if he is, sweetest, I can see I'd better give you a few lessons on the facts of life. Mr Carrington looks like a man who plays rough just for the hell of it.' 'I wouldn't be in the least surprised.' Janey managed a laugh and a nonchalant tone of voice. 'As for the other, no, he isn't in the least interested in me. Be sensible, Sam!'

'Oh boy, there's that inferiority complex rearing its ugly head again.' He sighed. 'Mind you, the way you look at the moment it would take a very determined man to work up much enthusiasm, but when some lucky chap lights a fire within you you'll set everyone's eyebrows climbing!' 'Thank you,' said Janey, touched by his obvious desire to cheer her up and not believing a word of it. He laughed and without a pause began to ask about local happenings. From then on the evening assumed a more pleasant aspect. Sam was popular and had Janey been able to ignore the fact that Phyl Talbot and Theo seemed to be getting on like a house on fire she could almost have enjoyed herself, in the group of people Sam attracted. It did not make matters any easier to realise that she was being perfectly idiotic! At midnight her parents left, quite happy at Sam's promise to have her home before one. With the slow departure of the older ones the nature of the evening changed, became less inhibited, more spontaneous and considerably less formal. And Theo asked Janey to dance, his features set in an expression of aloof tolerance which irked her unbearably. Stiffly she matched her steps to his, but he was a very good dancer and within a very few seconds she was as relaxed in his arms as she had been in Sam's. 'You seem happy how that your boy-friend is home?' he remarked in the tones of one who makes polite conversation. Janey looked up astounded. 'Sam?' 'Is that his name? Sam who?'

'Sam Partingale, and he's not my boy-friend. He's —well, I suppose you could call him a great friend.' She chuckled. 'As far as I can tell he's much nicer to me than any brother would be and not near as much trouble as a boy-friend. Sam's a darling.' 'So I see,' he observed drily. 'What does this paragon do?' 'Medicine. He's just done his pre-med year at Auckland University.' 'Very estimable.' He smiled into her surprised face, but there was no softness in his narrowed glance as it swept her features. 'My dear innocent, the boy is besotted with you!' 'Rubbish!' 'Is this some kind of pose?' he asked unkindly. 'No one could be as naive as you, not in this day of sophisticated ten-year-olds.' Anger and shock fought for mastery in her expression. Anger won. After all, he was a perfect stranger who had no right to make comments about her. 'Do you mind?' she retorted frostily. 'If you're going to analyse me I'd rather you kept your findings to yourself. I do have feelings.' 'My God, you really are childish! That sort of repartee went out with dollybirds.' He spoke cruelly as though he wanted to hurt. Janey knew that she had no defence against this kind of attack and no way of retaliation. To her horror and complete shame tears sparkled in the clear amber of her eyes and she gave a most inelegant sniff, lowering her lashes to hide the uncertainty and pain. Theo said something under his breath and then, aloud, 'Don't cry, Jane. Believe me, no man is worth tears.'

'I'm not crying over you,' she retorted angrily. Tm just not used to being snarled at by anyone, and I hate it when people are cross with me.' 'I'm not cross with you. I'm angry with myself.' He smiled with no humour, the line of his mouth cruel. 'And when I'm angry, the nearest person gets the backlash.' 'That's unreasonable.' 'Surely you don't expect people to be reasonable,' he countered with heavy sarcasm. 'Why not?' 'Why not!' He lifted a mocking eyebrow at her. 'Do you believe in love-true-love between man and woman?' Janey flushed slightly, but refused to be intimidated by the taunt in his voice. 'Yes, I do,' she said firmly. 'There you are, then. What's reasonable about one man loving one woman, believing that only with her he can find any sort of happiness? Any fool must know that all it takes to make a happy marriage is that tug of physical attraction to begin with and compatibility. That is, if you're the. sort who craves the security of marriage.' 'You obviously don't,' she said, diverting the subject a little because she did not know how to defend her romantic ideas of love and marriage in the face of such cynicism. She felt the powerful muscles of his shoulder move in the slightest of shrugs and found that an odd sort of tingle was running through her veins. It felt like electricity pouring in through the contact points, her fingers, the area of her waist where his hand lay, the occasional brush of his knee against hers. The hand that held hers was relaxed yet she

could feel the latent strength in the lean brown fingers. If she kept her eyes level she could see the strong sweep of his jawline and, the firm contours of his mouth. Some deep feminine instinct told her that that mouth provided a clue to his character, for it was thin enough to be ruthless yet the bottom lip was disturbingly sensual and if she was stupid enough to let herself, Janey had no doubt that she could waste quite a few hours imagining the effect Theo Carrington's mouth could have on her if he kissed her. It was her first experience of the havoc physical desire could play, and she bit her lip, waiting for his answer to break the tension which held her nerves in thrall. 'Certainly not for security,' he said coolly. 'Any less secure institution it would be hard to find. Even in this backwoods paradise I imagine you wouldn't have to look very far to see marriages in trouble, and there must be many more jogging along only because of children or inertia.' 'Well, of course there are,' she agreed, trying very hard to be objective. 'But there are plenty of happy marriages, too.' 'It depends on what you mean by happiness.' The dry note in his voice was very definite as he continued. 'Would you be content with a marriage held together only by moments of passion and the realisation that any change would involve making a new start, becoming used to living without the comforts of familiarity? People are lazy, Jane. They forge shackles for themselves and learn to love them. It makes life so much easier.' 'Is that so bad?' She lifted her lashes to look directly at him, found him regarding her with an ironic smile which unnerved her. 'I mean—it is happiness of a sort, surely.'

'And therefore better than unhappiness? Would you like a marriage like that, Jane?' 'No.' 'I thought not.' He smiled again. "You would want the ecstasy of a passionate love affair to continue on into marriage.' 'Not exactly. I mean, I know it can't. You don't live on the heights for ever, but surely the communion of everyday life would forge its own bonds, just as strong as--as well, as the others,' she finished somewhat lamely, then laughed. 'Lord, what an idiot I am! I haven't any experience at all, and yet I ramble on. Have you?' 'Experience of marriage? No, I've never been married.' He sounded amused and a little rueful as though she had hit home, and when he spoke again it was to change the subject completely. 'You're a good dancer, Jane.' 'I enjoy it,' she murmured. Especially with you, her mind whispered. Especially with you, Theo.

Incredibly the fine weather continued. Temperatures soared to unprecedented heights and the farms on the outskirts of Awakopu grew sere and brown under the merciless sky. It became too hot to eat, almost too hot to sleep. Janey found the waistband of her shorts getting looser and spent an astronomical amount of her wages on new clothes, a long dress for evenings, a swim- suit and a pair of elegant high-heeled blue sandals which flattered her long foot and made her almost the same height as Sam. 'High heels, dear?' her mother said doubtfully when she displayed them in triumph. 'High heels make you so tall.'

'She is tall,' Paul said cheerfully. 'Six feet tall.' 'Hardly.' Janey aimed a punch at his shoulder, missing as always. Paul was. like an eel for all his size. 'Five foot eight, to be precise.' I'm going to be six feet.' Nobody could deny this. He was growing at a rate which made his mother complain bitterly about the cost of new clothes for him, but it was easy to see that he had a long way to go yet. 'I'm going to be as tall as Mr Carrington,' he went on. 'Six feet two. I say, Janey, are you coming with us tonight? We're going floundering down past Luke's Point in the bay there.' That odd tightening of the nerves which Theo's name caused made Janey hesitate for a moment. 'I could, I suppose,' she said swiftly to hide the pause. 'When are you going?' 'Leaving at nine. Mum, when's Penny coming home?' Mrs Bowden looked up from slicing beans. 'The day before Christmas, dear. Only a few days more. Why?' 'I saw Geoff MacDonald up the village today and he asked me.' 'Oh.' Mrs Bowden's voice flattened the monosyllable as she looked across at Janey. 'Oh dear,' she murmured to herself 'I had hoped ...' They had all hoped that Geoff would have got over his love for Penny by this time. Poor Geoff, so honest and worthy and steady, who had loved Penny devotedly for six years, ever since the time he had set eyes on her. She had been fifteen and still at school and he was the manager of his father's farm. Penny had been flattered, but even then she had been too sophisticated for someone as practical as Geoff.

'He's so earnest,' she had complained, her light, crisp voice investing the word with condemnation. And later he had wanted to marry her : her desire to go to university had upset him, but not nearly so much as her decision to become a lawyer, with the six years of studying and the probability of never coming back. Janey could remember the outcome of that. Geoff furiously angry, Penny defiant and determined. 'He thinks he owns me,' she had told Janey in a rare confidence, 'but he'll just have to learn that I'm not his possession. There's more to life than being the wife of a dairy farmer in a sleepy little town like Awakopu. I want to be someone, to do things and travel. Geoff would make marriage prison for me, with his possessiveness and his antiquated ideas about a woman's place being in the home.' Unfortunately it seemed that Geoff hadn't learnt yet. Each holiday he took Penny out, apparently hoping, that perseverance would accomplish what devotion had failed to do. Janey didn't think much of his chances, but as he seemed content with such a situation there was nothing anyone could do about it, especially as Penny welcomed him with unfeigned pleasure. Perhaps he was a relaxing change from the types she went out with in Auckland, Janey thought, and felt uncomfortable, certain that there had been more than a little jealousy in such a thought, unconscious though it might be. It was not Penny's fault that; she possessed that certain magnetism which made her very popular with the opposite sex and that her sister didn't. Anyway, it looked now as if everything was going to be as it always was, with faithful Geoff dogging Penny's footsteps all summer. Thoughtfully Janey picked up a stem of tuberoses and smelt their sensuous fragrance. They were beasts to grow, tuberoses, as she should know, having helped her mother to strip the corms that year and replant them. But there was no doubt about the exotic scent. As she replaced the stem a grimace from Paul made her look up sharply.

'What's the matter?' she asked. 'Sore stomach.' He sounded surprised and angry, glowering defiantly as his mother came swiftly around the breakfast bar into the room. 'How long have you had it?' joy asked, putting the back of her hand against his forehead. 'It's just started. Mum, don't fuss!' But his expression was twisted into something like anguish and he made no further protest when his mother bustled him off for a cool shower and then bed. Frowning, Janey picked up the vegetable knife and went on slicing the beans. She had just finished when her mother came back. 'How is he?' 'He's asleep. I think he has been overdoing things. This heat! If it were February it couldn't be any hotter. I'm quite sure that when he's had a sleep he'll be much better.' 'Any hope of him going flounder-fishing?' Joy shook her head. 'No, dear, none at all. If you want to go you'll have to go by yourself.' Janey hesitated, then realised that it would be suspicious if she refused to go without her brother. 'O.K.,' she murmured. 'Perhaps Theo won't want to go.' 'I can't see why not. You're just as good as Paul when it comes to catching fish.'

Certainly Theo didn't seem upset at all at the prospect of going without Paul. When he arrived at the house shortly before nine he looked politely concerned at Paul's non-appearance, asked the conventional questions and then hiked Janey off down to the wharf without further preamble. It was still light, but the sun had lost most if its heat as it westered and the dew was falling lightly. All manner of exotic perfumes floated on the still air from the gardens they passed and the jacaranda trees in the Warren gardens were great mounds of lilac-blue. Someone was holding a party on one of the yachts in the basin; there was laughter and music and as Theo started the engine of the runabout a girl, bikini-clad with a glass in her hand, hung over the stern of the yacht and blew him a kiss. Which he returned, Janey noticed crossly. He must have caught the disapproving look on her facer for he laughed suddenly, white teeth gleaming in the deep tan of his face and she capitulated. Like that, silhouetted against the sky, he looked like a pirate. Her heart started to do funny things in her chest. To hide anything which might be revealed in her expression she turned her head away, staring out at the green- brown water of the river as it creamed and was parted by the bow. Their passage whipped up a wind about them, so that it became cooler in spite of the close air between the banks of mangroves. It was impossible to talk above the roar of the motor, so Janey sat quietly watching as Theo manoeuvred the boat down the channel. Red Thompson's rusty, weatherbeaten fishing boat came quietly towards them; it did not surprise Janey overmuch when it slowed, then stopped and Red's flaming thatch emerged from the deckhouse. 'Gidday, young Bowden,' he said amiably. 'Gidday, Theo.' 'Evening, Red,' Theo nodded, one strong arm holding the runabout steady against the side of the fishing boat. 'Good day?'

'Yeah, not too bad. Too many blasted idiots tearing around in fizz boats for the fishing to be up to standard this time of year.' His shrewd blue eyes took in the flounder spears along the side of the runabout. 'Going for flatties?' 'Yes.' 'Been getting good catches down Luke's Point way, I hear.' Theo grinned. 'That's where we're off to.' 'Thought you might be. Take care. There's a coupla' launches behind me been celebrating Christmas a bit early. They're weaving all over the place like drunken sailors.' Red laughed noiselessly as he finished rolling his cigarette, then fished out a box of matches from his trouser pocket. 'And if you want a day out after the big stuff, let me know and I'll take you with me.' 'I'll do that,' Theo promised. 'Thanks, Red.' 'See ya.' The note of the bigger boat's engine altered; Theo flicked the switch that changed their outboard from idling to full power and the two boats drew away from each other. It did not surprise Janey that Theo seemed to be on terms of friendship with Red, who was known as a wild man, drunk or sober. Red's cheerfully irreverent attitude towards mankind did not prevent him from respecting some few members of the human race, though his qualifications for respect were pretty stringent, involving his own view of what was masculine. Apparently Theo lived up to Red's requirements. Certainly, Janey thought, nobody could call him effeminate!

From beneath her lashes she watched him, noting the breadth of his shoulders, the muscles beneath his rolled-up shirt sleeves, the lithe economical grace with which, he moved as if there was an immense amount of strength held in reserve. He possessed a splendid physical presence; it seemed unfair that with this should go a keen incisive brain and the kind of personality which owed nothing to his looks or that animal magnetism. He would be an easy man to fall in love with, a hard man to forget. They met the launches they had been warned about around a sharp bend in the river, just before Luke's Point jutted out into-the channel. Fortunately they could be heard before they were seen, for a radio blared out a pop tune loud enough to set several shags on the wing. Janey watched somewhat apprehensively. She trusted Theo to cope, but she wanted to see what was happening. 'Idiots!' Theo exclaimed, his eyes narrowed in contempt. --, Both launches were roped together fore and aft, so that they travelled side by side up the channel. As they watched, Janey and Theo saw a man jump from the bigger to the smaller, a presumably full glass in his hand. This feat was greeted with loud cheers from both boats and an alarming wobble in the wake as the steersman apparently took his mind off what he was doing. And that really was all that happened. The wobble wasn't corrected, the two roped-together launches headed towards the edge of the channel and grounded, engines racing as they stirred up an immense cloud of muddy water. There was laughter, rather shaken, then a scream as the bigger boat canted sideways in the shallow water. Theo swore, swung the runabout across the channel towards the opposite bank and cut the engine. A yacht under motor rounded the bend and slowed down; its crew tilted it as they rushed to the side to

stare and then it, too, headed slowly across the river towards the stranded launches. The subsequent hour was busy, confused, and dominated by Theo, an angry, cuttingly contemptuous Theo who organised the evacuation of the smaller launch which had had its timbers stove in by the impact, and had told the skipper of the bigger craft exactly what he thought of him in sentences which turned the man into a sullen, shamed onlooker. With the help of the yacht and its crew they managed to pull the bigger launch off the bank and clear the channel. Something had happened to its engine and it was unable to proceed, but another launch heading up the river took it in tow, and after an hour the Awakopu police constable and the ranger arrived on the scene and took over. And Theo said laconically, 'O.K., let's get out of here, young Jane.' Janey, who had been trying to quieten three hysterical children, nodded and left them to their parents, only too thankful to leave the scene. It had been Theo's presence which had prevented recriminations breaking out; by sheer force of character and by the blazing sarcasm of his tongue he had subdued the half-drunken crews of the launches to his will. Now, with the arrival of the law, accusations were being hurled and fended. Janey could see a very unpleasant scene developing and was glad to get away. By now it was dark, the only light the huge stars and an old moon lying on its back in the western sky. 'We'd better head back home,' Theo said softly. 'We'll go fishing for flounder another time.' Janey nodded, disappointed and yet relieved. Tonight she had seen an aspect of Theo's character which had horrified her even as she admired his competent handling- of the situation. He had been quite ruthless,

slapping one woman's face as she became hysterical, threatening the owner of the smaller launch with a drubbing if he did not do as he was ordered and behaving like one of the more brutal pirates. Captain Bligh, she thought, and mused on the complexity of the man, the many facets of his character. Sea-tramp he might be, but he was a man born to command and given the attributes to make command easy. Within seconds of his arrival on the scene he had enforced his will on the people on the stranded boats; even those who came to stare or help obeyed him without question as if he had the right to order them around. As for Janey Bowden, who was peremptorily ordered to cope with three frightened children, she had meekly done just that, calming them down, making them cocoa on board the rescue yacht, and seeing that they drank it. The memory of it made her smile wrily. It seemed that Theo might command and she, like everyone else, would obey.

They went fishing for flounder the next night, all three of them, and caught more fish than they knew what to do with so Mrs Bowden froze them and stored them in the deep freeze. Things began to get hectic. Janey worked long hours picking strawberries for the Christmas market and Theo was kept busy with the last run of haymaking. Even Paul worked, delivering groceries. The weather remained hot and very still and the steady quick thump of the irrigation pumps was a constant background noise. Christmas shopping finished, the house became hushed with secrets and anticipation. Soon Penny would be home and then it would be Christmas Day, and even in the height of summer Christmas was special, Janey thought, Mrs Bowden hankered after a winter festival, but not Janey or Paul.

Only one thing bothered Janey. She did not know how to go about enquiring from her mother without warning her of her daughter's interest in the subject, so it came as a relief when Mrs Bowden murmured, 'There, that's it. I've sent off all the Christmas cards and bought all of the presents, and I'm completely up- to-date as far as the preparations go. Theo will be here for drinks before lunch on Christmas Day. I did ask him; to dinner, but he said no. I wonder if he's going to Talbots'?' 'Quite possibly.' Not even to herself would Janey admit disappointment. 'Apparently he and Phyl have been going out quite a bit together.' 'So I hear,' Mrs Bowden answered vaguely. 'He seems to be settling in, almost as if he plans to stay. I think it's such a pity he doesn't get a regular job. It can't be^ good for him, this shiftless way of life.' 'What do you think he should do?' Janey asked. 'I can't see him behind a counter, can you? Or being content to drive a truck.' 'Goodness me, Janey, he's an educated man!' Her mother looked scandalised. 'From something he said the other night your father realised that he's a qualified accountant.' Surprise glimmered in Janey's eyes. An accountant! Somehow Theo did not fit her mental image of an accountant; he was not neat and precise with a passion for accuracy and a delight in the abstract world of taxation and bank accounts. Theo was—very real, very tangible. He had hands that were strong and warm, and eyes that were used to far distances. Surely not for him the legal efforts to avoid paying income tax, deductions and balance sheets, profit and loss..

'Apparently he didn't like the business,' she remarked only half flippantly. 'Anyway, he told me he was only twenty when he took off for the wide blue yonder.' 'Oh? Then he must have picked up an accountancy degree somewhere in his travels,' said Mrs Bowden, as if he had needed only to lean over the side of Toroa and scoop a degree from the water. Janey grinned. 'Perhaps.' She couldn't imagine him behind an accountant's desk, any more than she could imagine him behind the wheel of a truck for any length of time. It was odd how difficult he was to classify; cast in no common mould, he avoided ticketing and putting in a niche. Theo made his own place in life. Sam came over that night, eager to tell her about the excitement of life in the freezing works. As always he was polite to Mr and Mrs Bowden, but looked gratefully at Janey when she took him out on to the terrace. He wasn't a great one for television, so he said, looking around at the cool comfort of the terrace. 'Mum and Dad enjoy tonight's programme,' Janey said cheerfully, 'but I'm no great watcher either. Sit down, Sam.' He collapsed into a deep chair, accepted a beer and sat for several comfortable minutes in silence. Then, rousing himself, 'This is nice, this place. You've made a terrific difference to it, you Bowdens. It wasn't much when you bought it.' 'I can remember,' Janey chuckled reminiscently. 'All little dark rooms and not one window overlooking the basin, so you couldn't see a thing. And grass head-high for a garden.' She looked around, surprised at the difference six years had made to the neglected, rundown eyesore which had had only its view and the lovely old trees to recommend it.

Now the lawns were smooth and green, the garden beds gay with flowers and the house was comfortable and convenient, even gracious with its shutters and the additions which gave it symmetry. 'It must have been hell for Mum,' she mused, 'living here with carpenters and plumbers in permanent residence. She didn't ever give the impression she hated it, but she must have.' 'Um.' Another comfortable silence, and then Sam began to talk about his holiday job. It was interesting, even if blood did figure rather ^too prominently, and he made Janey laugh. As the sun sank slowly the skylarks ceased their trilling in the field at the back of the house and thrushes began to compete with the sparrows who chirped unceasingly in the eucalypt trees. Frenzied barking from next door announced the evening swoop of the harrier hawk whose beat this was. Janey smiled. Poor Czar, the Hunts' Labrador, was quite convinced that it was only his barking night and morning which kept the harrier from getting up to terrible mischief in the basin. Shai arrived on Janey's shoulder, smelling strongly of fish. Denied Janey's contribution toiler diet, she had taken to fishing for herself. Tonight it was quite clear that she had been successful. Janey removed her but relented enough to put her in her lap where she went to sleep, lavender ears twitching as she dreamed. It grew almost dark and the scent of the star jasmine became stronger, more exotic on the still air as they talked with the ease and long silences of old friends. 'Hell!' Sam exclaimed explosively. 'I've got to go, Janey, Hey, how about coming to a barbecue with me on New Year's Eve? The Yacht Club one—Karen and Mark and their gang will all be there.'

'O.K.,' said Janey. 'We've all been working so hard I haven't seen any of them for ages.' 'This year will probably be the last one we'll all be here at Christmas,' Sam said reflectively. 'Next year we'll all be working and I suppose some of us won't be able to get back. Any ideas of how to occupy all those shopping days till next Christmas, Janey?' 'No,' she responded forlornly. 'Not a one.' 'Never mind; you'll probably need time out to look around and find your direction, I must away. See you!' 'See you,' she echoed, leaning over the rail of the terrace as he ran across the lawn. Perhaps it was the quiet beauty of the night which set her tingling with unfulfilled longings, wakening new desires and tensions deep within her. While they talked dusk had fallen and the darkness was still and very quiet except for the barking of some dog three hills away, a lonely yet not unhappy sound. Gripped by an intolerable urge to do—to do what? Janey sighed and then nearly jumped out of her skin, as from below a deep, amused voice murmured: I've been waiting for my cue, but as Juliet you're a failure.' Her hand at her throat, she laughed shakily. 'Juliet needed a moon to stimulate her into speech. And you're no Romeo, Theo.' 'No, I'm a good ten years older,' he returned, moving to the steps. 'How old was Juliet?' 'Fourteen—fifteen. I can't remember.' He stopped, picked a gardenia blossom from the tubbed plant at the head of the steps and dropped it lightly on to her hair. 'She was a

passionate wench, much younger than you, Jane. Do you think you could love as completely as she did now you're eighteen?' 'I don't know,' she said, shaken by the intimacy of the gesture, his nearness and the fact that he made no effort to move away from her. Something impelled her to continue, 'She was a very mature fourteen-year-old, but I doubt if it was love she felt for Romeo for all that.''Sexual attraction? Why?' She was glad that he could not see the blush which his matter-of-fact recognition of what she had so carefully avoided saying had brought to her cheeks. 'Well, it stands out so clearly. They didn't know each other. Surely to love there must be knowledge.' 'You probably are perfectly correct,' he said coolly. 'How long do you think you would have to know a man before you could love him? Three minutes? Three days? Or three years?' The mockery in his voice annoyed yet excited her. Stiffly, without thought, she retorted, 'I shouldn't imagine time would be as important as the degree of knowledge. But I don't know anything about it. I've never been in love.' 'No?' He laughed softly, and touched her cheek with one lean, insultingly casual finger. 'No crush on a schoolmaster or violent screams at the sight of a pop star?' 'Not my thing.' The light touch of his hand made her shiver as if it had suddenly become cold. Suddenly it seemed important not to reveal just how affected she was by his nearness. With an elaborate pretence of

carelessness she bent and lifted Shai, holding the cat against her cheek as if to cool it. 'Totally unawakened,' he said consideringly. 'I don't think I believe you, Jane. What about the estimable, Sam who's just left ?' 'Sam? What about him?' A bored note cooled his voice. 'Just good friends? Not very original.' 'The truth, nevertheless,' she said firmly. It was very important to convince him of this and without pausing she continued, 'We know each other too well, Sam and I, to feel at all romantic about each other.' 'Well, that shoots down your theory of Juliet's response to Romeo, doesn't it?' he remarked, calmly pulling her against him as if he had every right to hold her in his arms. 'If knowledge is essential to love, you and Sam should be lovers instead of good friends, and the pulse in your throat wouldn't beat like a tattoo when a perfect stranger like me comes too close to you.' His finger found the vulnerable hollow in her throat with unerring precision so that she could feel the frightened throbbing that was her heartbeat. His arm across her back was loose, yet when she moved as if to break away the muscles tightened and she could not move. A peculiar sensation caught her chest, preventing her from breathing. Nervously her tongue touched her lips, her gaze no higher than the deeper darkness which was his silhouette against the starlit sky. This close she could feel the leashed strength of his body against her, smell the faint masculine scent of him, and she had to fight with every resource at her command the desire to press herself against that hard strong form and accept whatever happened. But he must have been amusing himself with a naive young girl who perhaps intrigued him a little, for after a moment when the beating of

her heart threatened to deafen her he released her, saying mockingly, 'Let that be a lesson, to you, Jane. Always turn the light on when alone with a man in the summer darkness. Jasmine and gardenia have too erotic a perfume for anyone to be safe from their influence.' And, with a bravado she was far from feeling, she said lightly, 'Thanks for the warning. I'll remember it.' Perhaps the sound of his voice had penetrated the chatter of the television set or possibly the programme which had held her parents in thrall had finished. Whatever the case, a few moments later Mrs Bowden came through the French doors and switched the light on. Her daughter was leaning against the rail, twirling a gardenia flower in her fingers, and Theo Carrington was bending to pick up Shai. 'I thought I heard you,' said Joy. 'Come on in, my dears. The dew is heavy even at this time of the year.'

CHAPTER FOUR PENNY came home the day before Christmas. Friends on their way further north delivered her in the middle of the hottest afternoon of the season so far. But Penny looked cool and beautifully groomed as she always did, pale gold hair cut in the latest short style, thin cotton frock fitting her slender figure perfectly, make-up immaculate. It didn't seem fair, Janey thought resignedly. When everyone else was busy mopping themselves up Penny always managed to look cool and dry, her clear golden skin smooth and matt. But her welcome was warm and unfeigned, and she kissed everyone soundly, including Shai who was very half-hearted about it. Oddly enough Shai did not like Penny much. Then she embarked on a tour of the garden and house, exclaiming as if she had been away for years instead of the two months that had elapsed since her last visit. 'It is lovely to be home again,' she sighed, touching the smooth grey trunk of the silk tree with loving fingers. 'Janey, you look almost grown-up. Secrets in those cat's eyes, I'm certain. What have you been up to?' A very faint heat on her cheekbones made Janey acutely conscious of her sister's too intent glance. 'Nothing,' she said lightly. 'We all have to grow up some time, you know.' 'Yes? I do know.' Penny's smile was speculative. 'Who's been helping you on to the road to adulthood?' 'No one.' The older girl laughed, but her attention was caught by something else and Janey dropped quietly back out of sight. It was easy enough to

behave in front of her parents as if everything was exactly the same, but Penny was too percipient. And since the night Theo had amused himself by some very mild flirting, Janey had been forced to view herself and her life with a new eye, for strange things had happened to her. Theo had forced her out of adolescence into the bewildering, terrifying world of the senses. Janey had always felt that eighteen was far too young to fall in love. Now she was not so sure, and she was angry with him for disturbing her placid life. Not, she had to admit, that his attitude towards her had changed, unless it was that an element of watchfulness had entered into their relationship. Quite often when she felt hi? glance on her she had-to struggle against meeting it squarely, for she was too inclined to blush and feel that unnerving shift of balance when she looked at him, and she didn't like it. Now she had the strangest feeling that an era of her life was over, that Penny's arrival was going to bring in a new order of things. The uneasy, creepy sensation persisted. Then, before dinner, Theo came up and when Janey saw the look that passed between Penny and him she knew exactly what had caused that premonition. Of course her sister would find him interesting! Few women wouldn't. And the same applied to Theo. Penny was far more than just a pretty face and a desirably slim body, she had brains and personality and vivacity. Janey felt sick envy and then even sicker shame. After dinner Janey and Paul played Scrabble on the floor behind the sofa while the adults talked. Janey would have mumbled an excuse and gone to bed, but she knew that she would lie with her ears open listening for the deep exciting sound of Theo's voice and Penny's higher pitched, slightly breathless tones. It seemed a better idea to avoid any comment by joining Paul, but never had Janey longed so much for an evening to end. When at last Theo left they sang carols and put out their stockings as they always did before retiring to bed. r But as Janey undressed in her small, spartan bedroom with its one

Modigliani print above the bed there was a tap on the door. In answer to her invitation Penny walked in, clad in a sleek, very sinuous jump suit which fitted her like a pale gold skin. Almost exactly the same colour as her own skin, it made her appear naked at first glance. A peal of laughter greeted Janey's swift, scandalised glance. 'Sweetie, your eyebrows are just about through your hairline,' Penny gurgled. 'Can I sit down?' 'Yes, of course.' Janey pulled her plain cotton nightgown over her head and stood looking gravely at her sister, wondering at the reason for this visit. But Penny wasn't ready to divulge it just yet. Instead she stared around her, her brows pulled together over her delicate nose. 'Why don't you move into my room?' she asked. 'It's much bigger and you could spread a bit. I'll never live in it again.' Janey gave a half-smile. 'I like my little room.' 'It looks like a cell,' her sister retorted. 'Perhaps it suits you, after all. You could be a tall young novice in that white gown with your hair around your shoulders, except that nuns have clear eyes and yours are hiding something.' She grinned into Janey's alarmed expression. 'Nuns don't have tender, passionately ardent lips like yours either. Someone's been kissing you. It's all right, idiot, I'm not going to pry. We've never been great ones for exchanging confidences, and I'd have hated to feel obliged to tell anyone the great fool 1 made of myself over my first love affair.' She sat gracefully on the end of Janey's bed, examined her immaculate fingernails with some concentration and said deliberately, 'As a matter of fact, I thought I'd come to get some information on the fabulous buccaneer.'

'Theo?' Janey asked carefully. 'Yep. Theo. Mr Theo Carrington, who is tall and fair and handsome and very, very clever, very sure of himself and very much a man;' She laughed softly. 'And to think I thought I might be bored these holidays! Tell me all about him, Janey, there's a good girl.' So, in a voice which she strove desperately to keep normal, Janey told her what she knew of Theo, which was almost nothing. 'Mystery man, eh?' Penny drummed her fingers on the counterpane, smiling in a reminiscent way. 'Well, that's all very well. What do you think of him, Janey?' 'Me?' Janey took refuge in astonishment. 'Yes, you. You have a remarkable way of picking out the essentials of a character. It can be quite unnerving because you're such an innocent, but useful.' Janey frowned, pretended to be thinking. Only the truth would be acceptable to her sister, who was far too astute not to recognise evasion when she heard it. It did not have to be the whole truth, however. 'I think he's dangerous,' she said at last. 'He's been very kind to Paul and me, as nice to the parents as you could wish, but he gives me the impression that he's only humouring them. He—I feel he'd break all of the rules if he thought it necessary.' 'A buccaneer indeed,' Penny murmured, half to herself. Her blue eyes surveyed the smooth oval of her sister's face, the square chin and passionate mouth, the strange lion-amber eyes beneath dark brows and lashes. 'How does he affect you?' she asked casually.

Janey shrugged, forcing herself to think this over. 'Well—he's old,' she said after a moment. 'I mean, he's very nice and he has a super smile, but he is thirty.' Laughing softly, apparently completely convinced by what Janey thought a very skilful piece of acting, Penny rose to her feet. 'You'll find that thirty won't seem so old in a few years' time,' she remarked cheerfully. 'Just now it seems to me the ideal age for a man. I could see that he was interested in me; he might be just what I need to keep me from sleeping the holidays away.' After she had gone Janey switched off her light and walked across to the French doors which led from her room on to the terrace. In summer she always slept with the doors wide open, the only barrier between her and the night being screen doors which kept out marauding mosquitoes and the large, soft night moths. Below, the yachts swung gently on the oily waters of the basin, their small portholes squares and rounds of warm light against the dark backdrop of the opposite bank. Theo was in Toroa; she knew the location of the yacht even in the dark. Janey wondered what it was that most nights kept the dim circle of light glowing until long after midnight. Even as she watched the lights on one of the other yachts went out, but it seemed that every night Theo stayed up until one or two in the morning. It was very still. A morepork called from the eucalypts behind the house, was answered by another little owl from across the basin. Far away came the distant sweetness of a church bell, tolling for midnight service. Biting her lip to stop a treacherous, useless flood of tears, Janey climbed into bed. *

In New Zealand , most families open their Christmas presents before breakfast, for many leave immediately after the meal for their annual holidays or the beach. It was one thing which had earned the country Ian Bowden's profound disapproval,. this wholesale closing down of most industries for three weeks. He was used to it now, but still refused to fall in with custom, so the Bowdens did not open their gifts until after lunch. There could be no midday dinner, of course. With the thermometer soaring well into the eighties it was all one could do to force down a light lunch even though the dining room was the coolest room in the house. It had become a kind of tradition for the family to go to early service and then to have open house for their friends later in the morning. One of the first improvements made to the property had been the building of a swimming pool and the siting of a wide, shady terrace beside it, both of which were very popular with their friends. Christmas Day was no exception to this. As the sun climbed higher into the sky Janey carried drinks to adults, separated children over-stimulated by excitement and smiled and smiled and tried not to look at Penny who, with Theo on her right hand, held court. - She sparkled, her younger sister thought wistfully, and it was all genuine. Penny truly liked people and they reciprocated. It hurt in a dull fashion to see Theo bend blond head to the sleek golden one, but she had known all along that this would happen. Even Phyl Talbot, for all her moneyed glossiness, could not hold a candle to Penny. Every other woman T:here looked dowdy, yet all Penny wore was a simple long dress of creamy muslin with pale pink embroidery, peasant fashion. On her it achieved distinction. Janey sighed, smiled yet again as she waved to a friend of her mother's across the pool, then picked up a plate of cold hors d'oeuvres and began to circulate with them. Joy had a considerable reputation for snacks, as her children called them, and these were no exception.

Some latent artistry came to her fingers so that a plate of pâté and ham with radishes, tomatoes and cucumbers, olives and peppers was a still life in itself, the greens and reds of the Vegetables contrasting effectively with the rich colour of the pâté and the small black olives which were mingled with the peppers. Everyone was in high good spirits, relaxing after the hectic rush before Christmas, prepared for one day to love everyone quite impartially beneath a sky of vivid blue and a hot, summer sun. Janey felt a sudden horrible isolation from everyone, as though they inhabited some charmed world she could not enter. 'You look like the Lady of Shalott just after the mirror cracked,' Theo said in her ear. 'I've been watching you and it seems to me that you can let someone else do some work. Come with me.' Every instinct urged her to comply with his peremptory command, but the years of insistence on good manners by her parents made her hesitate. 'It's all right,' he said, coolly removing the tray from her hand and depositing it into a small boy's astonished grasp. 'I've spoken to your mother and she has agreed that you should come with me.' So she smiled and allowed herself to be urged down the path beside the house. 'Where are we going?' she asked after a moment. 'Wait and see.' All very mysterious, because he led her into the laundry. And then the mystery was solved, for in a cardboard box there were three small, barely alive puppies with the elegant, aristocratic Shai anxiously purring as she curled herself about them.

'Puppies?' Janey shot a startled glance around the room in search of the mother. 'Theo, where did they come from?' 'Somebody dumped them,' he stated flatly. 'They were on the sand below the wharf in an old sack.' 'Oh!' Distress made her voice wobble as she dropped on her knees beside the squirming black bundles. 'Oh, how could they be so cruel? Poor little things 1 Theo, how will we feed them ?' He slanted her a smile which had something of mockery in it. 'They're big enough to drink from a bottle, but it will be a tedious business, I'm afraid. I can have them put down.' 'Oh no!' she scrambled to her feet to face him, one of the little things held protectively to her breast. 'It'll be no trouble, truly, Theo. And they deserve to live after such a horrible attempt to kill them. People just don't think. Besides,' she added as an afterthought, 'Paul will help me.' One strong finger tangled in a tendril of red-brown hair, pulling it gently as he smiled with quizzical amusement. 'A heart as soft as butter, both of you. All of you, in fact. Your mother promised them sanctuary too. Do you think you can find homes for them?' The touch of his hand against her neck was like a fiery brand on her skin. Blinking, she answered brightly, 'Well, Paul will have one. Our old dog was run over a few months ago and he was too upset to want another one, but I should say this will cure him of his grief. And you'll want one, won't you? So that leaves only one. I think I can find a home for one.' 'A dog won't be happy on Toroa.'

'Yes, it will,' she said firmly. 'Other people travel with animals on board. Why shouldn't you? It would be company for you.' 'Do I look lonely?' She managed a laugh, and thought to herself in some amazement that she was becoming a very accomplished actress. 'No, you look completely self- sufficient, but I refuse to believe you are. Women know that no man is ever self-sufficient. It would be too great a blow to our collective ego if we thought you were.' Theo grinned, very sure of himself, his handsome face suddenly closer in the confines of the small room. 'Such frankness deserves a reward,' he murmured, and bent and kissed her very firmly on the corner of her mouth. As he straightened up he looked into her startled, somewhat shocked face and laughed softly. 'Cheer up, Jane; it was unfair, I'll agree, as you couldn't defend yourself with that pup in the way, but I couldn't resist it.' 'Oh, I don't mind,' she said brightly, bending to drop the pup back with its brothers, so that he couldn't see the great wash of colour which flooded her cheeks. As she stood up she added, 'It's not the first time I've been kissed, you know.' 'You could have fooled me,' he taunted unkindly. Derision gleamed for a moment in the narrowed depths of his eyes, then softened into laughter. 'You have a lot to learn, but don't be ashamed of that, my dear. Someone—some lucky one—is going to have a most enjoyable time teaching you how to make love.' 'I thought it came naturally,' she said before she could stop herself.

At his laughter her colour deepened again, but she smiled, trying to cover the mortification caused by her unruly tongue. 'Did you?' he grinned as he leaned back against the door, arms folded across his chest as he surveyed her with bland interest. For all the world as if she was some new and quite interesting insect on a pin, she thought resentfully, trying to look as cool and unconcerned as if this sort of conversation was very old hat to her instead of being new and rather exciting, in a frightening way. 'Well, it's a basic instinct, after all,' she returned sturdily. 'Sex is. Didn't they teach you the difference between mating and making love at that school of yours?' He sounded sardonic and very sure of himself. Janey was visited by the thought that he enjoyed shocking her with his bluntness and made up her mind that she would not be shocked. 'Well, of course they did,' she retorted, striving to keep her gaze as steady as her voice in spite of the hot feeling along her cheekbones. 'We take human relationships as well as biology, you know.' 'What a very advanced curriculum!' he mocked, but there was no humour in the sweep of his glance as it travelled from her face to the smooth skin of her shoulders beneath the suddenly inadequate straps of her dress, then dropped to the gentle swell of her breasts. A bubble in Janey's throat prevented her from breathing. She made no protest as his hands reached for her shoulders, slid after a moment to her neck, cupping it with extraordinary gentleness. A light flamed deep within his eyes like a spark kindled by some strong emotion, and when he bent his head and touched his lips to the vulnerable hollow at the base of her throat where her pulse beat softly in betrayal of her

emotions,, she felt no fear, only an excitement which turned her bones to water and brought the breath fast through her lips. His mouth was warm and gentle and it made every nerve in her body tingle, She wanted to run her hands over the breadth of his shoulders, press herself down his lean hardness and feel his mouth crush hers, but she made no movement, afraid that if she stirred it would break the spell he was weaving about her with his soft kisses against her throat. And when he straightened up she turned her face away from his so that he could not read the last lingering traces of the abandoned emotions he roused in her, but his fingers against her chin were hard, almost painful, forcing her face out into the open so that he could scrutinise her expression. He could not force her lashes up, however. She knew exactly how he would look, arrogantly, devilishly in command of the situation with mockery and amusement in a hurtful combination, so she resolutely refused to look any further up than the top button of his shirt. 'Do you usually go rigid when you're kissed?' he asked. Janey's top lip clenched a moment on to her bottom one, then relaxed as she forced a smile. 'When taken by surprise, yes,' she returned sweetly. Theo chuckled and released her, turning away so that when Penny came into the room a moment later he was standing somewhat aloofly beside the washing machine while Janey was carefully replacing one of the puppies which had, by sheer luck, managed to fall over the edge of the box—much to Shai's horror! 'We'll have to get a decent nest for them,' she said worriedly. The little incident was over; judging by the grim set of Theo's mouth it had happened against his better judgment and would not be repeated.

Which was just as well, she thought angrily, vaguely aware that those few moments when his mouth had caressed her had altered something basic in her life. A man of his age had no right to make love to someone who was no better than a schoolgirl! And that foolish schoolgirl had no right to allow herself to be beguiled by his experienced skill at the game into wanting things which had better be censored completely out of her mind! Her sister's mischievous expression as she came in only reinforced Janey's decision to push the whole thing completely to the back of her mind. With that sparkle of wickedness Penny looked beautiful and if it hurt to see the admiration in Theo's eyes then it was a salutary lesson. 'What is all the mystery?' Penny demanded. 'Oh— puppies! What tiny little things!' The explanations gave Janey time to regain her equilibrium. To her surprise Penny looked at them thoughtfully, her beautiful eyes very wise. 'You should have them put down, you know,' she remarked quietly. 'Oh, no, Penny!' ' Spreading her hands in mock surrender, her older sister smiled at Theo. 'O.K., O.K., I'm the practical one, remember? You know darned well that that is the sensible thing to do, but I'll admit right now that there isn't a hope of persuading you or Paul. Or Mum,' she added as an afterthought. 'Just don't rope me in too often to feed them, Janey. Acting as nursemaid to squirming little things is not my line.' Her beauty and the gaiety she wore around her like a cloak depressed Janey. It was all she could do not to sigh heavily as Theo allowed himself to be led out of the room. There was only one consolation. If Penny thought that she would be able to lead Theo around by the nose

as she did most of her other men, poor Geoff MacDonald in particular, she would soon find out her mistake. And thinking of Geoff, who was not going to like Theo's advent on the scene and Penny's interest in him, made Janey realise that there were no doubt guests out there needing attention. Scrambling to her feet, she stood for a moment staring down at the now sleeping puppies as they cuddled against a softly purring Shai, then smiled ruefully and left them to their dreams. As it happened Sam had arrived, big and brown and dependable as always, and so Janey too had a cavalier, not as exciting as Theo, but infinitely safer. Sam didn't play tricks with her emotions and he knew how to make her laugh. Sam was nice, she thought inadequately, and wondered rather miserably why she didn't feel anything but calm affection for him, for as one of the fifteen- year-old girls whispered enviously to Janey, 'He's a real dish, isn't he?' This aspect was one she hadn't really considered, but when she looked hard at him, she realised that Sam was a very handsome boy. And there lay the difference. He was little more than a boy, while Theo was a man. Towards lunchtime the guests began to drift off, calling out 'Merry Christmas,' as they left, and the artificially blue water in the pool stilled and became calm. Sam helped Paul and Janey feed the pups on warm milk from a trio of bottles dredged up by neighbours and friends, and then he too left after promising to call back later in the day. Which left Theo. And Penny, who remarked smoothly, 'Is that a gleam of something more than brotherly affection I see in our Sam's eyes, Janey?' and sighed when Janey flushed and muttered a denial.

'Love's young dream?' the older girl teased, and then quite seriously, 'You could do much worse. He's going to turn into a very good G.P. one day, and I imagine he'd make the kind of husband who would suit you perfectly, he's so responsible and steady. You need looking after, Janey, you're such a dreamer.' Avoiding the sardonic amusement which sparkled in Theo's glance, Janey snapped crustily, 'My godfathers, what a nice thing to say! You make me sound like one of those demure Victorian misses who screamed if they saw a spider and put frilly pantaloons on piano legs!' 'Did they?' Paul asked, wide-eyed with interest. 'Why?' There came a general shout of laughter, but when it had died down Penny returned to her subject with surprising insistence. 'Janey, you were born a romantic and in this day and age that's a dangerous thing to be. And you're far too soft-hearted. Look at those pups! Theo knew just who to bring them to.' 'Then Theo must be soft-hearted too,' Janey said sweetly, fugitive mischief warming the amber colour of her eyes into a flame. 'Otherwise he would have knocked them on the head without thinking a thing about it.' One black brow lifted as Theo responded smoothly, 'A heart of purest butter, that's mine. I refuse to give in to anyone in the softness stakes.' Penny's trill of laughter expressed her complete disbelief. As they exchanged sophisticated, lighthearted banter, Janey watched quietly, realising how very attuned to each other they were. They inhabited the same world, her clever, dedicated sister and the sea- tramp, a world where laughter and wit were used to express emotions which were hidden behind a facade of worldliness. Penny was revealing her interest in Theo, but in such a way that neither would be embarrassed

by it. And Theo ...? Well, she thought, Theo was in superb control of himself as always, and his enigmatic expression gave nothing away, but he couldn't help but be impressed by Penny's loveliness and intelligence.

'He's quite the most fascinating man I've ever met,' Penny said cheerfully, folding her hands behind her, head as she leaned back in the big peacock chair; the fan of lace-patterned cane emphasised the delicate beauty of her features. At the moment she looked almost complacent, but excitement gave a gloss to the deep blue of her eyes. 'Is he?' Janey kept her voice non-committal. She did not want any confidences from Penny; indeed it seemed very unlike her assured older sister to make any comment on her emotional affairs at all. Usually she kept complete silence, and her interested mother had to deduce how things were going from her moods. For her to discuss Theo and with Janey of all people was, Janey felt, an ominous sign. She couldn't think why, but an unfamiliar wariness stiffened the muscles of her face. 'Yes, he is. Do you know why?' Janey turned her head to one side, the side away from her sister, and closed her eyes. 'No.' 'Of course you don't,' Penny said indulgently. 'If you stay out in that sun too long you'll cook. Theo Carrington is fascinating because he's absolutely uncaring. He likes animals and young things and old people, but somewhere along the way he's developed a terrific resistance to women, and it shows.' She stretched luxuriously and rearranged her slender legs to achieve the greatest exposure to the sun.

Janey lay spreadeagled on the rug, too hot but too lethargic to move into the shade of the jacaranda. 'How do you know?' she murmured. 'Partly intuition and partly experience,' her sister retorted. 'I haven't wasted my time in Auckland, you know. He is superb-looking, isn't he? He's got that terrific magnetism which has absolutely nothing to do with his looks, a kind of sexual awareness which has - every woman in his vicinity on tenterhooks. I think perhaps people are born with that, but that deadpan attitude has been acquired over the years. I should say Theo has had a pretty varied love-life and both taken and given some hard knocks.' Janey turned her head to look curiously at her sister. There had been a note of smugness in Penny's voice which had vied with something almost like pique. Somehow Janey got the impression that Penny was not quite as confident about dazzling Theo into submission as she would like to be. 'He's an intriguing man,' Penny resumed, almost to herself. 'Arrogant, with that "damn-your-eyes" smile, and yet there's nothing that escapes him and he certainly appreciates feminine charms, even it he hides it pretty well. I think these holidays are going to be very, very interesting.' In the days that followed, however, it seemed that whatever plans Penny had made for Theo's subjugation had come unstuck, for they saw very little of him beyond the sight of his car as it went up and down the road. In a way Janey was relieved. That inexplicable ache which his presence brought her did not go away with his absence, but at least it was dulled. Penny said nothing more about her plans for him, but she went out several times with Geoff MacDonald and if she was not happy about things no one would have known. Janey noticed that the porthole on Toroa still gleamed well into the small hours of the morning.

Meanwhile the weather continued hot and still. The sprinkler system had to be turned on so that the wilting garden could be refreshed. Janey decided that she was quite tanned enough and began applying sunscreen to arms and legs whenever she wait out into the sun. She watched her mother with an anxious eye, for Joy was finding the heat intolerable, especially in the late afternoon when the sun beat down with pitiless intensity. Paul was happy. He had made a huge chart and was plotting the temperature every three hours on a graph in the hall; like Janey he was not upset by the sun and welcomed each new extreme of temperature with joy. More visitors poured into Awakopu, protesting about the heat as they would have complained about rain or cold. 'Never satisfied,' Ian Bowden grumbled after he had been kept waiting at the barber's by a crowd of holiday- makers. 'Last year they got rained out between Christmas and New Year and blamed us for it. Now that it's fine they complain just the same.' 'It is wearing,' Joy said quietly, setting aside the embroidery she had been working on for the last ten years. Her husband shot her a swift glance from beneath frowning brows. 'Not feeling too good, my dear?' 'I think I'm getting more accustomed to it,' said Joy. 'Ian, let's go down to Sandy Bay. If there's any breeze we should catch it there, and I believe the pohutukawas this year are superb.' In the end they all went down except Penny, who wanted to wash her hair. Sandy Bay was a small scoop of white-gold sand beneath high volcanic bluffs which were smothered in rounded canopies of the pohutukawa trees. Joy was right; this year the bluffs were crimson and

scarlet against the dazzle of the sky and the waters at their base were stained rust-red by the fallen flowers. The road to the beach was a private one, so it was considered politic to cultivate the friendship of the landowner over whose land the track wound. Fortunately he and Iari were golfing partners. Because of its isolation the beach was quite deserted when the Bow- dens pulled up under the shade of another pohutukawa tree. But Theo Carrington was just coming down one of the bluffs, very casual in shorts and nothing else. 'Hullo,' he called, pulling a shirt down from the branch of a tree and draping it over his shoulder. 'How are the pups?' 'Growing plenty,' Paul told him, full of enthusiasm. 'They have their eyes open now, and we've found a mother for them. The Sinclairs' bitch adopted them and she and Shai take turns in looking after them. I say, Theo, we think they might be Labradors!' 'Do you?' Theo's expression of amusement died. 'Actually, they are. I found the person who dumped them.' 'Oh!' Janey couldn't prevent the exclamation, for momentarily the expression on Theo's face was frightening in its cruelty. 'Who?' demanded Paul eagerly. 'No business of yours,' Theo told him, mitigating the rebuff by clapping him on the shoulder. 'You can be sure it won't happen again.' Paul opened his mouth to say something else^ probably to ask what Theo had done to prevent any recurrence of the dumping, but he too took one look at his hero's face and closed his mouth quite firmly. A swift shiver touched Janey's skin. She would be terrified if Theo ever

looked at her like that, and she could only feel pity for whoever it was who had dumped the puppies. Then he turned and looked directly at her, his slow, mocking smile softening the cruel contours of his mouth. 'You look very pretty,' he said, allowing his gaze to assess quite openly her bare legs and arms and the slender tallness of her body clad only in denim shorts and a scanty suntop. 'But shouldn't you wear a hat?' 'She doesn't need to,' Paul observed. 'She's smothered in some stuff that stops the ultra-violet rays coming through. She may not look it, but she's slippery.' Janey grinned, covering up for the fact that she felt as though she was in a fast-falling lift and had left her stomach behind her. Close to, Theo was overpowering; when he dropped an arm across her shoulders and walked with them back along the short, crisp grass to where their parents waited she felt a tingle of anticipation race through her veins. 'You don't feel slippery,' he said coolly. 'In fact, if I were feeling in a poetic mood I would say your skin is like warm silk.' Paul skipped a flat stone out to sea, an expression of smug satisfaction on his face as he crowed, 'Four times. Beat that, Janey.' Well-timed, she thought, conscious of the flush the compliment had brought to her cheeks and glad of the opportunity to slip from beneath Theo's arm while she found a stone. 'Twice!' Paul exclaimed when she had spun. 'You can do better than that, Janey; try again.' But Janey couldn't find her form, and gave up in disgust when Theo's stone skipped too many times to count and Paul managed eight times, his best to date.

'You must be growing up.' Paul said consolingly. 'It's your figure, I think. Once girls stop being flat-chested they can't throw for peanuts. I think their balance must be altered, or something.' Janey looked at Theo, met the pure amusement in his glance with answering laughter and retorted briskly, 'Paul, if you believe that you'll believe anything. And I don't hold out much hope for success in medicine for you.' He grinned. T was giving you an out, but if you don't want to take it that's O.K. by me. I say, Theo, are you going swimming?' 'Yes.' 'Good. I'll race you to the point and back.' He took off along the beach, the soft sand spurting at his heels as he raced away, a lithe brown figure in the sun. 'My God,' said Theo, watching him. 'What energy! Janey was feeling a little drained of strength, for Theo had repositioned his arm across her shoulders and it felt as though it belonged there. Striving rather desperately to ignore the delicious vibration in her nerve ends that his nearness gave her, she said, T hope you can swim. Paul is good, and he'll crow unmercifully if he beats you.' 'I can swim,' he said, a thread of amusement colouring the deep tones. 'I doubt if he'll beat me.' 'Are you always so confident about everything?' He chuckled. 'Why? Does it annoy you?' 'No, not really,' she answered honestly. 'In fact, I think I envy you.'

'Where did you get that inferiority complex? At first I thought it must have been caused by your parents' treatment of you, but they obviously love you.' Janey disliked the calm, analytical tone of his voice and stiffened away from him, only to be held-quite firmly where she was by the tightening of his hand against her upper arm. 'Hey!' she exclaimed, staring up at him in bewilderment. His sharpened gaze took in the puzzlement of her expression rested for a moment on the soft lips and became as keen as a scalpel. 'Let that be a lesson to you,' he said quietly. 'I like you like this.' The cool arrogance irritated her. 'I don't,' she snapped. 'I hate being teased.' 'Who's teasing? There you go again, underselling yourself.' As he urged her on towards her parents he asked, 'Is it so strange that I should enjoy embracing you? You're attractive, you have a good body and skin that's eminently kissable, all of which is quite reason enough for me to find you desirable. Your sister isn't the only attractive Bowden daughter, you know.' Janey lifted her head proudly at the irony of his last comment, but it was too late to make any rejoinder, for her parents had almost reached them. When they did Theo dropped his arm quite naturally as he greeted them. Acutely conscious of her flushed face, Janey met her mother's glance of mild surprise with what she hoped was cheerful unconcern. If Theo stayed much longer in the district, she thought hollowly as she listened to him charming her parents into a complete lulling of suspicions, she would be an accomplished enough actress to take the Old Vic by storm!

CHAPTER FIVE JANEY was in the water when the sound of the car engine made her shade her eyes with her hand as she stared shorewards. Yes, it was their car, and it was quite definitely leaving, and the family were waving cheerfully from the windows as it headed up the track. Feeling for all the world like someone who has suffered a grievous betrayal, she waited in the warm water while Theo dived in from a rock and used his powerful crawl to head across to where she waited. It was very quiet after the car had gone. The bay was sheltered so that the water lapped softly against the beach, and wind blew except a slight, barely felt breeze and the only noise was the occasional wild call of a seagull as it drifted overhead. Turning so that she could not see the man who swam like a dolphin towards her, Janey gazed inland at the biscuit-coloured hills of the farm and beyond them the grape-blue of the coastal range to the south. The land was dry and sere. Farmers were already talking of a bad drought. Some were making plans to shift their cattle to the south where the rains had been more regular; others hoped that the plentiful hay crop would see them through if- the gods were kind and rain came later in the season. Inland it was not quite so bad, but these coastal lands were exposed to the winds and dried out so quickly that it must be heartbreaking to farm them in a season like this. 'Your parents have gone to visit the Sinclairs,' Theo said from behind her. 'I told them I'd bring you home as you appeared to be enjoying yourself.' 'Just like a parcel,' she returned in a tight hard voice. 'Thank you.' She caught a fleeting glimpse of dark brows drawn together in a frown, before she twisted and dived beneath the water. Of the Bowdens not only Paul was a good swimmer. Perhaps because Theo had not expected the suddenness of her action he made no

attempt for a moment to follow her, and when he did she was a long way ahead, swimming with the sinuous litheness of someone who is a natural at the sport. . She knew that he was following, of course, but something reckless forced her to put every last atom of strength she possessed into hep-efforts. She was tiring as her feet hit the shallows and before she had had time to get much further than the first big tree he had caught her, flinging her around against the trunk, his lean handsome face filled with the purposeful predatory excitement of the hunter, his eyes alight with anger—and something else. 'What is this?' he demanded, pinning both wrists against the rough bark above her head. 'Nothing,' Janey snapped, adding with an anger she knew to be false, 'You might have asked! For all you knew I might have wanted to see the Sinclairs.' His teeth snapped shut in a savage smile. 'Why? Your parents said that you had nothing in common with them, so stop behaving like a four-year-old having a tantrum!' To be accused of childishness when the turmoil within her was painfully adult was more than she could bear. His grip on her wrists had loosened. Now without pausing to consider the consequences she struck out, connecting with considerable force on the smooth wet skin of his shoulder. Then, horrified, she tried to duck past him, but he stuck his foot between her ankles and she went sprawling on to her side in the grass. 'What the devil-—!' he exclaimed as she yelped and pushed hard against his leg, forgetful for the moment that she was not indulging in the rough and tumble she used to enjoy with Paul.

Theo, however, was not Paul. Instead of falling he came down beside her like an avenging angel, smiling in a way which made her realise just how very stupid she had been. With her teeth catching on her bottom lip she tried to evade him, but his arms pulled her under him and the green of the leaves above was blotted out by his face and the violence of his kiss. Only it wasn't a kiss, it was an assault, a prolonged plundering of her mouth until she cried out at the pain of it and tried to arch away from him. 'Oh no,' he ground viciously, 'you asked for this, and by God you're going to get what you, deserve!' One hand came up and caught the wet tail of her hair, tightening with cruel insistence as she tried to pull away. The blazing eyes and that set, savage smile turned hip into an enemy. Real fear stirred to life within Janey as she realised that she had woken a demon which had lain slumbering beneath Theo's urbane exterior. 'Please ..,' she choked, mesmerised by the leaping flames deep within his eyes. 'Please,' he mocked, and kissed her again, using all of his experience to blot out the memory of the assault which had preceded it. His mouth was hard and demanding, yet the cruelty had fled from it, and when Janey felt herself relaxing into a languor as unexpected as it was delightful, she closed her eyes, willing him to continue. She could feel the heat-of his body through the thin material of her bathing suit, felt the faint rasp of his sea-wet cheek across her face and wondered at the banked tension in him. Perhaps, she thought hazily, as his mouth touched each eyelid and moved to the hollow of her throat, perhaps he was still furious with her, and the rigid strength of his arms behind her back was an indication of this. It didn't matter. She knew that she would rather be kissed by Theo in anger than by anyone else with love.

As if in answer to the thoughts that flitted through her brain he lowered himself on to her, pressing her into the soft sandy soil. And then she knew that the tension she felt within him was not anger but desire, and the knowledge made her eyes fly open in astonishment and a resurgence of fear. He smiled down into her face, that set, impersonal movement of his lips which had so frightened her before, and said softly, 'Too late, Jane. Provocation always brings its own reward.' 'Theo—I- --' He stopped her stammering with his mouth, one hand cupping the soft swell of her breast. When he spoke it was almost dreamily, as if the words meant nothing to him compared to the sensations he was experiencing. 'Even innocent provocation is dangerous, Jane. It's time someone taught you that. Now shut up.' Lost in a world of the senses where her very innocence endangered her, she could do no more than trust him Unreservedly, so that when he stripped the strap from her shoulder she did not prevent him, nor did she protest when his mouth moved down from her throat to come to rest against the salt-cooled skin of her breasts. A long time later when it seemed that she must die of longing, of desires unfulfilled, he said quietly, 'No, Jane. No, my dear.' Slowly she opened her eyes, met the unnerving glitter of eyes only a few inches from hers. It seemed that she drowned in him, was lost in the sound of him, the scent and feel of him, and yet when she was lying so close to him that they seemed part of each other he would not accept what she so unreservedly offered him. 'Theo?' she whispered, stroking the smooth skin across the taut sea-strengthened muscles of his back.

'Jane, you go to my head like young wine, but I'm not going to lose it completely.' He smiled, a twisted, ironic movement of his mouth, and tipped her chin up so that he could drop a kiss on her mouth. 'So don't look at me with those hot amber eyes as though I've wounded you to the death.' 'I think you might have,' she whispered. 'Love's sweet sting? I doubt it, girl. There's a world of difference between the tender folly called love and what we have just shared, which is desire, pure and simple.' A coldness came seeping in through the pores of Janey's skin. He was still holding her close against him but she shivered and he said roughly, 'I can't, Jane. I feel enough of a heel as it is, but like all men I'd rather have my fun and not pay too heavily for it. Tears from you would be too high a price, believe me.' 'Your fun?' It seemed incredible to her that he should be saying this, that he should be so clumsy, Theo, who had up until now been intelligent and too perceptive. 'Jane,-look at me!' He sat up, pulling her up with him, waited as she fumbled with the straps of her bathing suit and then said harshly, I'm sorry, I didn't realise how damned inexperienced you are. Jane, are you listening?' By now she had regained self-control and with it a pride she had never known she possessed, a pride which would not allow her to admit that she had fallen head over heels in love with him and thought that his love- making meant that he reciprocated her feelings. Of course he didn't! He was a sophisticated, experienced man and she had had the misfortune to arouse his predatory instincts with her stupid antics, and so had suffered the consequences. At least, she thought drearily, she had had the sense to fall for a man of some honour. If he had had fewer

scruples he could have taken her without any resistance from her—so much for morals and standards and principles. Out of the door they flew at the first touch of a man's hand! Fool, she thought savagely, fool that you are, Janey Bowden! Never again would she feel contempt for those girls who gave in to the demands of their lovers, only pity and a fierce determination not to find herself ever in a similar situation. But for the moment she must salvage what self- respect she could, and it was going to be hard, for Theo had penetrating eyes and just now they were fixed on to her face with something like compassion in them. It was this humiliating concern which made her sit up straight, her head held high. Calmly she answered, 'Yes, I'm listening, but you don't have to explain. I may be ignorant, but I'm not stupid, and my mother has told me a few of the facts of life.' With bent head she tried to hide the colour that flooded her cheeks as she went on shakily, 'I must admit that I hadn't realised that—well, that it was so easy to —to forget everything my mother did tell me.' She finished with a half laugh and was rewarded by the disappearance of that horrible solicitude from his eyes and its replacement by mockery and something else she could not discern. 'Well, that's settled, then,' he drawled, and got to his feet, extending a hand to pull her up with him. For a long moment their eyes caught and clung, hers as veiled as his, and then he smiled and kissed her cheek and said as he straightened up : 'In a few years' time, Jane, you'll knock come man off his perch completely. Until then—and unless you want to gain experience on the way—don't set out to provoke. Few men can resist it.'

The deep humiliation she felt forced her to say lightly, 'And others may not be so fully in control of themselves as you are. Thank you, Theo.' As if in accord they had turned and were walking back towards where his car was parked beneath one of the big trees. About six inches of air separated their shoulders; Janey had the bleak feeling that that small distance could have been as far as to the moon and back for all that Theo cared. When he answered her she knew that she was right, for his voice was quite impersonal. 'For what?' 'For not --' she flushed again, but went on gamely '—you know perfectly well why, so stop being so—so --' 'For not seducing you?' Janey knew that she should feel grateful because he took pity on her and interrupted before her embarrassment tongue-tied her completely, but what he said made her blush even more fierily. 'Well—yes,' she admitted, hoping that this conversation would soon be overhand yet feeling that for pride's sake he must be told that she had not misinterpreted the passion he had shown. 'Good God, girl, not all men are so weak-willed that they lose control the minute a woman responds,' he said curtly, adding with the hint of a taunt in his tones, 'Although it might pay to act as if they are, at least until you know how to read a situation. With me you're quite safe. Schoolgirls are not my meat, even though I forgot myself today and treated you like a woman. If ever you provoke me again I'll turn you over my knee and spank you, so you needn't flinch away from me as though I'm going to drag you off to the nearest bed.'

He sounded exasperated and bored with the whole conversation, as no doubt he was. A sick emptiness in the pit of her stomach and an ache at the back of her throat prevented her from speaking, but that pride she had dredged up from somewhere kept her head high. At that moment she decided she hated him. Penny could have him if she wanted to, though Janey was sure that even her sophisticated sister would find Theo Carrington a very tough nut to crack. Fortunately dolphins came into the bay then, and as they watched the sleek, grey smiling things humping through the water the conversation lapsed and died and it was not until just before she went to sleep that night that Janey allowed herself to think again of what had happened. That mocking porthole gleamed in the dark of the basin sending its oily shimmer of reflection a little way across the smooth water. It was very still, although a faint rustle in the very tips of the eucalyptus trees high on the hill behind them augured well for tomorrow's regatta. Sam had been over to make the final arrangements and was mourning the total lack of wind. He and the other sailors would be happy if there a brisk breeze; perhaps that faint sound was the forerunner of one. Janey had on the nightgown which was Penny's Christmas present for her, a long very pale amber satin thing which left almost nothing to the imagination with its neckline plunging to just above her slender waist. It was not, Janey had thought, her type of thing at all, but it was beautiful, and she had not known why she wanted to wear it tonight. Now, staring in the darkness at that jeering circle of light, she knew. It was so that she could recall the fire in Theo's eyes as he kissed her, the passion and tenderness which might have been fleeting but had been real. For a little while Theo had thought her beautiful, he had been stirred by her physical presence and he had wanted her. The nightgown helped her recall a little of the magic his touch had worked on her. He had felt a heel afterwards; he would never know that those easily-forgotten-by-him minutes had given Janey a confidence she would never lose.

I love him, she whispered quietly into the darkness, and knew even as she said it that it probably was not true love. Yet an adolescent crush, if that was what it was, was just as real as the pangs of the great passions. Biting her lip, Janey felt the slow tears begin to form in her aching eyes, and it was a long time before she finally fell asleep.

The Yacht Club at Awakopu was small but vigorous, and as it possessed a large clubhouse at the head of a bay where the anchorage was extremely safe in most weather, it was popular with visiting yachtsmen. Which explained in part why the New Year's Eve Regatta was always a great success. The keelers raced after offloading sons and daughters in dinghies and small yachts, all of which had their own races, those without water transport of any kind had swimming races and the big launches had the choice of racing or entering a fishing contest. So the Yacht Club, the point on which it stood and the jetty in front of it as well as the half circle of bay to one side, were a seething mass of activity all day, and even the wooded hills behind echoed to the yells and screams of those determined small boys who turned their backs on the sea to play wars and cowboys and Indians there. Janey and Sam arrived at nine in the morning; immediately Sam was dragged protesting on to the Committee boat and Janey found herself behind the counter in the small shop at the side of the building selling cold soft drinks and iced lollies with Karen Moore, a school friend who worked now in the local solicitor's office. 'How can they drink orange fizz at this hour of the morning?' Janey wondered aloud. 'Can't you remember?' Karen grinned and pushed a riotous black curl back from her forehead. 'Never mind, it's only for an hour and then we

get relieved. You look nice, Janey. All long legs and tailored, like a model.' Janey smiled. Karen was small and inclined to plumpness and she had an inordinate yearning to be tall and slim, so her compliments could not be taken too seriously. Nevertheless Janey thought she did look rather nice. New Year's Eve at the Yacht Club was as informal as any occasion could be, but one wore one's smartest beach outfit and the barbecue, in the evening, always followed by a dance, was seized on by the visiting yachtsmen as an occasion to dress a little more formally than their uniform of bathing shorts and a peaked cap. Wives and daughters followed suit, so long skirts or caftans, uncrushable and easily washed but elegant, were usually Worn. Most of the locals would drift off in ones or twos towards the evening, leaving the visitors to shower in the Club's washrooms, but by seven o'clock they would be back, there would be barbecues glowing on the beach, the smell of chops and sausages and steak grilling over charcoal and the clink of glasses as both visitors and locals had a drink before dinner. With all this in mind Janey had chosen a wraparound skirt of jungle-print cotton which Penny had made for herself but disliked, and with it she wore a cotton knit top in the gold of the skirt. It was a brief tube with two straps over the shoulders, but it set off her tan nicely, and beneath the skirt she wore navy shorts for when the sun became too hot to bother with a skirt. Leather thongs flattered her feet and slender tanned legs, and as a special treat she had carefully varnished her toenails pale pink. Because she felt attractive she knew that wonderful lift of morale which, she concluded, was the reason why women spent so much time trying to look attractive! 'The Fire Brigade were a bit wary of the fires this year,' Karen told her. 'The fire risk is very high, you know, but Blue Wentworth came down and had a look this morning and in his capacity as the Fire Chief or whatever he is said it would be O.K. Mum nearly had a seizure. She kept moaning, "We'll have to have the barbecues. Imagine cooking for

hundreds on the stoves in the Club kitchen!"' She chuckled infectiously, handing out a cone and the change to a small boy, and nodded towards her father who happened to be this year's Commodore. 'So Dad organised vast quantities of plastic buckets just in case. They're all stacked up behind the dinghy lockers.' For some reason this struck them both as funny. Janey's giggle blended with Karen's and she felt a return of schoolgirlish camaraderie. The bay beckoned, glittering, filled with life and colour and movement, and the hard nagging pain in her heart seemed to ease a little. Only to return when, a few minutes before their hour's stint at the counter was up, Karen remarked, 'Hey, there's that chap who's going with the elegant Miss Phylippa Talbot. He really is something, isn't he? Isn't he a friend of your parents? I wonder if he's going to race with the keelers?' The answer to all of her questions was in the affirmative, it seemed, for the Toroa had slipped into the bay and with Theo was Penny looking like something out of Vogue in shorts and a simple blouse. 'How does she do it?' Karen asked, envy in every words 'If I wore those clothes I'd look plump and sweet, but she looks as if she has a couple of million stashed away in the bank and doesn't give a hoot about it. Is she going with Mr Carrington?' 'Not really,' Janey answered, keeping her eyes averted. 'He doesn't seem to go with anyone. Not steadily.' 'Plays the field, eh?' Karen sounded very worldly. 'Mum is always at me to go out with other boys, but honestly, Janey, Mark and I started to go together when I was fourteen and he was a couple of years older. That's four years ago! I'd feel naked without him.'

Janey smiled. Karen and her Mark were one of those rare couples who recognised their dream in each other and refused to settle for anyone else. In a few years they would marry and their life together would be as smooth and happy as their courtship. For a moment She envied her companion fiercely, for Karen would never know the anguish which was now becoming a settled part of Janey's existence. The sight of Theo and Penny together—happily together—was bitter pain, even more painful was the smile that he gave her when they came face to face a few minutes later, for it was mockery pure and simple, and his eyes were inscrutable above that taunting mouth. It seemed impossible that only yesterday those eyes had been glazed with passion and that mouth had softened into tenderness against hers. Hoping that the first involuntary shiver she had given had passed unnoticed, Janey smiled, exchanged greetings and was making her escape when Penny called her back. 'Theo's racing,' she said, 'and he wants someone to tell him where the reefs and rocks are between the islands so that he doesn't have to peer at a chart all the time. How about you, Janey? You've sailed over the course hundreds of. times.' Janey's heart gave a startling lurch in her breast, but one glance at the bronze mask of Theo's face made her decision for her. 'I'd love to,' she responded cheerfully, 'but I can't. I've offered to help off and on in the shop. Why not take Mark, Theo? Mark Sorenson is a sailor and would love to go with you. He's mourning because he's just sold his fourteen-footer and hasn't bought a new one yet.' Turning swiftly, she called, 'Mark! Over here!' Within a few moments it was organised, leaving Mark almost speechless at his good luck. Janey thought it unlikely anyone had realised that she most emphatically didn't want to go with Theo. Or that she did, that the thought of two hours or so alone with him on

Toroa would be pain and pleasure in equal proportions. Perhaps the person she most wished to deceive was not deceived at all, for the smile he gave her as they parted was narrow and without humour. Perhaps he thought that she no longer trusted him. Janey fought an absurd desire to hurry after him and offer to go to Mark's place. Reason warred with longing, and reason won. If she saw too much of him she would only be feeding this attraction and letting herself in for more pain than she cared to consider. If he thought that she was afraid of him it might annoy him; but that was all. He wouldn't be hurt by any emotion she might feel for him. Nevertheless the day lost some of its glitter and freshness for Janey. That parting smile seemed burned on her memory. If she closed her eyes against the glare she could see him looking at her with something like contempt and that narrow taunting smile as if she had gone down quite dramatically in his estimation. Toroa didn't cross the finishing line first, but won on handicap after a close-fought battle with two other yachts, which revealed that Theo was a competent tactician as well as an extremely good sailor. 'I'd go around the world in her,' a flushed and excited Mark told Karen and Janey and Sam after the race. 'She's well-found and boy, can that guy sail! He knows exactly what she'll do and he pushes her to her limits. Pity you had to do duty on the Committee boat, Sam. You'd have enjoyed a race with him.' 'Another time, perhaps.' Sam dropped his arm around Janey's shoulders and grinned down at her. 'Can I get you a drink, Jay? You look a trifle flushed.' 'The sun,' she said swiftly. 'Yes, I'd like a can of lemonade.' The boys went off to the bar and Karen urged, 'Let's go and sit under one of the trees. It's so terribly hot here in the sun. You know, with

daylight saving it gets hotter and hotter until seven o'clock at night, don't you think? Jay, your sister seems to have made quite a hit with the luscious Mr Carrington. Look at them !' It was the last thing Janey wanted to do, but for form's sake she lifted her lashes and in one swift glance took in Penny and Theo talking together on the wharf, Penny with one slender hand on his arm, he smiling down at her as though she was the sum total of all his interests. Not that one could gain much from his expression; Theo didn't give anything away, but it would take a man with no masculine initiative at all to resist the charming picture Jenny made. And Theo, as Janey knew only too well, had his share of masculine awareness. 'They look good together, don't they,' she managed to say after a moment, as her lashes drooped to cover the bleak' despair. 'Urn. Mind you, they're both super-looking, aren't they? Penny's like a model and Mr Carrington looks like one of the nicer buccaneers, all virile and exciting, and very, very assured,' Karen smiled at Janey. 'Too exciting for me. He's an unknown quantity, one I wouldn't know how to cope with. Penny won't have any difficulty, though, she's always known just how to behave with men. I like nice, dependable, easy to read people, like my Mark. Mr Carrington looks too clever and quick for comfort.' Janey wasn't-surprised by her companion's shrewd assessment of Theo's character, for Karen was an acute observer with considerable interest in her fellow humans. Too much interest, Janey thought now, wondering rather desperately how to change the subject before Karen drew her own conclusions about Janey's silence. Fortunately an amphibian plane flew overhead, swooping down to give the sightseers it carried a good view of the bay, and as that disappeared over the hills one of the smaller yachts capsized spectacularly in an errant puff of wind. And then the boys came back

and conversation became general and Janey could breathe a sigh of relief. After that it seemed that everywhere she turned she saw Theo and Penny obviously enjoying each other's company. By the time the last boat had come to rest on its mooring Janey felt mentally and emotionally drained of anything but the capacity to feel pain, and that, it seemed, was unlimited. It was, she discovered, quite easy to pretend that all was well when your heart was slowly twisting within you. Certainly neither the sharp-eyed Karen nor her Mark noted anything amiss, although Sam asked her on the way home if everything was all right. 'Yes, of course,' she said swiftly. 'Why?' 'Well, you're not ever the life and soul of the party type,' he observed somewhat drily, 'but today you seemed a little quiet even for you.' Something in the way he spoke, some barely heard intonation made her look at him with swift surprise. 'Sam, you don't have to take me out if you don't want to,' she said bluntly. 'You know that.' His wide shoulders lifted in a slight shrug. 'Nothing ever stays the same, does it? You think you can take up where you left off, but it doesn't work, not even for two people as fond of each other as we are.' He slanted her a dark, rather ironic glance and rested his hand momentarily on her knee. 'You aren't the same, and neither am I.' 'So? 'So leave it for the time being.' But as she showered and climbed into a printed cotton patio dress Janey knew with a dull kind of fatalism that the easy friendship she

had enjoyed with Sam was over. As he had said, things change and she had changed, and that was another thing to put down to Theft's account. She stood for a long time in her narrow room staring at her reflection in the mirror as if trying to see where the difference lay. The patio dress had been bought with some of the money she earned picking strawberries, and she approved of the way it clung to her narrow waist and flared gently out over her hips to the floor. The colours, greens and ambers, suited her, but her hair was wrong. Frowning, she took up her comb, then set it down again as Penny tapped and came in. 'Too long,' she said, taking in the situation with one swift glance. 'Sit down and I'll pin it up for you.' 'I hate it pinned up.' 'Well, get it cut, then. Your features don't suit it floating around your shoulders.' Deftly her slender hands tucked the thick, red-brown curtain into a neat swirl at the back of Janey's head. 'There, it shows off your long neck and those tiny little ears,' her sister told her. 'I'll get you a pair of earrings. I'm glad you had your ears pierced when I did.' They were elaborate gold ones, too heavy by far, Janey thought, but she had to admit that they took away the bareness as well as adding an exotic look to the outfit. 'And eyeshadow,' Penny said firmly. 'I'll do it. Have you got any?' 'No.' Penny sighed. 'You are hopeless, Janey! And you know you could look stunning if you tried. Wait there.'

A moment later and she was back. 'At least you don't need mascara with those long black lashes. Sit still, idiot, or you'll look like an Indian painted up for the warpath. There; have a look at yourself.' It was amazing what a difference eyeshadow made. Janey looked suspiciously at herself in the mirror, but had to admit that her sister had been extremely skilful and discreet. Instead of the patches of colour which she had expected to see on her lids Janey noticed only that hereyes seemed infinitely mysterious, amber and gold jewels in a face which had by some strange alchemy become fine of feature. And the dress was enhanced too, the soft cotton moulding the contours of her body and revealing the pale brown satin of her skin as though it had been made especially, to allure. 'Perfume,' Penny exclaimed, and was off again, reappearing with an elaborate package. 'This was given to me, but it doesn't suit my personality. Too exotic.' Janey laughed. 'Hardly my type, then.' 'Rubbish,' her sister said sternly. 'You look beautifully exotic.' Relentlessly dabbing the liquid behind Janey's ears, she went on, 'It's ideal. Flowery and young,, yet with more than a hint of the ancient East.' Penny chuckled at her sister's grin, and made a face at her. 'You wait. You'll have Mr S. Partington wondering what on earth happened to the girl next door when he sees you. Siren isn't in it, sweetie.' Penny herself looked gorgeous in a white dress splashed with stylised blue roses, the exact colour of her eyes, her tanned shoulders gleaming against the thin straps, her beautiful, vivid face sparkling with anticipation beneath the cascade of her honey-gold hair. Penny didn't need help to look lovely, Janey thought, giving herself one last considering look in the glass. Deep within her heart she was glad that Theo would see her like this. At least he wouldn't always remember her as a tomboy in shorts, or with wet hair slicked back from her face.

They went as a family, but it was accepted that Janey would be coming back with Sam and on the way down Penny mentioned casually that she had organised a lift home with Theo. It had been expected, but Janey's heart gave her a nasty pang and she had to stare out of the window at the coastal scenery for several moments before she regained sufficient control to join in the conversation. It was still very hot, but a breeze was beginning to come in across the bay, lightly tossing the top of the tall kanuka scrub so that the spicy, clean tang of its leaves filled the car. Janey knew of the early settlers use of the needle-like leaves of kanuka and its smaller cousin manuka for making tea; she thought as she had done before that it probably made a pleasant brew, it was so fragrant The road twisted and wound round gullies where cicadas shrilled fiercely, and at every corner there was a view of the sea, peacock blue and sparkling against the red volcanic bluffs and the dim purple hills on the other side of the bay. Because the road was not sealed a thick plume of dust rose up behind them, coating the trees nearest the road with a clinging film which only rain would dissolve. There was not a cloud in the metallic sky, not a speck of moisture anywhere^ yet in each gulley streams still ran between the cool green spirals of the tree- ferns. Occasionally the scrub would draw back from the road and they would see the parched paddocks of a farm, the wooden bungalow set between clipped hedges with a windbreak of trees to the south, the dusty grey specks of sheep as they grazed the dry grass. 'I'm glad I'm not a farmer,' Ian Bowden commented, negotiating a fierce maze of potholes. 'Somebody told me today that springs are failing further north.' 'We do need rain,' his wife agreed. 'Goodness, those cicadas are noisy! The heat and the dry must have brought them out earlier this year.'

The road down to the Yacht Club was narrow and winding beneath a remnant of the primeval coastal forest. In the green tunnel the cicadas were deafening, each shrill zither blending with thousands of others. As they got out of the car behind the Clubhouse the noise seemed to pierce Janey's eardrums. A wave of nausea threatened to overcome her. Biting her lip, she waited for the physical anguish to pass over. Fortunately no one appeared to notice and by the time they climbed the long ramp into the club-room she was over whatever it had been. Perhaps it was this which caused the occasion-to assume a dream-like aspect in her mind, perhaps it was the mental and emotional tension which held her in thrall, but ever afterwards Janey could only remember isolated snatches of the evening. They ate barbecued food and drank carafe wine or lager, then the band arrived and those who wished to dance moved into the huge clubroom decorated with vast bunches of gladioli in the club colours of orange and white. Most of the older members seemed to enjoy the greater comfort and the quietness of the lounge, but there was no segregation as such, for people moved from the dance floor to the lounge, out on to the terrace and back again as they cooled down. Janey and Sam teamed up with Mark and Karen and several others; Janey was well aware that her changed appearance was a hit, but something had made Sam go quiet. She was grateful for this, because she did not want to talk. Wit was beyond her at any time, but it would have taken more fortitude than she possessed to produce even a moderate gaiety. Theo and Penny were getting on very well together. It was quite impossible to ignore them, because they were stunning together. After one glance at Theo's broad shoulders in the blazer of some yacht club, Janey had carefully kept her eyes averted, but blue roses on a white background kept intruding on her vision, and her heart felt like a lump of lead within her breast.

'You're very quiet,' Sam said as they danced. Her conscience smote her. 'Poor Sam, I'm afraid I'm not terribly good company. I'm sorry.' 'Quite frankly I'd rather have silence than listen to Karen's giggle all night. I don't know how Mark puts up with it.' Janey looked at him in astonishment. This was harsh- ness indeed, for Sam! 'He's used to it, I suppose. Don't you think the evening is a terrific success?' 'My dear girl, New Year's Eve is always a terrific success, you know that. Or was it Karen's giggle you. were referring to?' She laughed at the mild little joke and her depression lifted slightly. 'Idiot,' she returned. 'People are enjoying themselves.' 'Your sister, especially,' he said deliberately. 'She and Mr Carrington seem as thick as two thieves.' There seemed nothing to say to that, but she smiled meaninglessly and made an affirmative noise and changed the subject, perhaps a little clumsily. If so Sam made no comment about it but followed her lead. Some time during the evening she danced a slow waltz with her father, afterwards finding herself in a small group with her parents along with Penny and Theo and another couple. Her father gave her a very mild rum and Coke and they chatted pleasantly enough, the easy social banter of people who know and like each other and have no desire to impress. Penny was radiant; Janey noticed the brilliant gaiety of her sister's smile and the sparkle of her restless glance and wondered what Theo had been doing or saying to produce that air of feverish excitement. Before it always had been Penny who had been in complete control of any situation; it seemed now that she had

surrendered without reservation to Theo's urbane masculinity and was enjoying her capitulation. Impossible to tell what Theo was thinking! After one covert glance Janey did not even try, for their eyes had met and his had been bland and ironic as if he understood exactly what was happening inside her head and was amused by it. His presence dominated the group, perhaps even the room. Janey had intercepted enough swift, measuring glances from both male and female eyes to know that he was causing a considerable stir of interest. What was it he had, that in a room full of more or less personable men, some just as handsome as he, he stood out effortlessly? Sheer force of personality, Janey decided, and that air bf sensual awareness which appealed to the most primitive instincts in the feminine half of the population. He was a magnificent animal and he knew it, but he also possessed strength of will and intelligence and an honesty which scorned meanness. The. woman had been trying to catch his eye for some minutes when Janey became aware of her and turned her head slightly in case it was someone she knew. She was middle-aged, very slim and elegant, with an exquisitely made-up face marred only by an avid, discontented expression. She was watching Theo closely, almost greedily. He must have seen the puzzlement and indecision in Janey's eyes, for he turned to follow her gaze. As he did so the woman stepped forward. 'Mr Carrington?' she said eagerly. 'I'm Sarah Turner. We met at the party your publishers gave when they launched your second book.' She smiled vivaciously at the suddenly silent group. 'It must be rather exciting to have such a famous author as Theo Brady taking notes among you. Are you planning another book set here in Awakopu, Mr Carrington?'

CHAPTER SIX JANEY sat quietly beside Sam, watching through half- closed eyes as the headlights picked up patches of bush and discarded them, again. It was late, after two o'clock, and her parents would long be in bed, no doubt retiring after discussing Mrs Turner's bombshell exhaustively. And what a bombshell; just what the woman had planned! Theo Brady had written four best-sellers, thrillers which were, so publicity had half-hinted, semi-autobiographkal. Janey who had read them all, was now convinced that they were at least based on truth. A film was planned for the first book, set in South-East Asia; those in the know whispered that the second also was to be filmed. Theo Brady the author wrote very frankly about his hero's love-life—no doubt, Janey thought drearily, from experience. Theo Carrington the man had been extremely angry when his cover was blown. He had been polite to Mrs Turner but got rid of her smartly, and when he asked Janey to dance his grip on her hand had been as painful as the cold savagery at the back of his eyes. After a long time he had asked harshly, 'Has the cat got your tongue?' 'No,' she said politely. 'I'm afraid I'm not quite sure how to talk to best-selling authors. I'm sorry.' He smiled then, a twisted humourless movement. 'Do I detect censure in those polite tones?' 'Good heavens, no,' she said, exasperated. 'Why should I be angry with you ?' 'You might feel that I should have told you my shameful secret instead of letting you hear it from someone else.'

She was hurt; at least that had been her first reaction to the knowledge that he was Theo Brady, but common sense told her that there was no reason why he should have told her anything about himself at all. She meant nothing to him. So she said calmly, 1 can't see why. Your business is your own.' "True,' he emphasised, sarcasm heavy in his voice. 'Which is why I prefer to travel under my own name. 'People tend to gush or clam up when confronted by an author. God knows why; I think they must imagine I have a little black book somewhere to record every - detail about them.' She chuckled, aware of a lifting of the spirits which could have been caused by the fact that he was offering some sort of explanation to her. I thought tape recorders were the "in" thing now.' He looked down at her, his eyes very bright and hard, a cruel twist to his mouth. 'They are useful, but I prefer my black book. You're looking very beautiful tonight. Penny tells me she was the instigator of the change.' 'Yes, she was. I'm glad you like it,' said Janey, hiding the hurt his abruptness caused her as best she could. 'My appreciation surely can't be necessary. I imagine it's the young Samuel you want to impress, and judging by the black looks he's giving me you've succeeded.' On the point of laughing at such an odd idea she hesitated and was lost. After all, why not salve a little pride by letting him think that she was trying her fledgling wings on Sam? So she shrugged and felt his arm tighten around her.

'Then let's give him something more to be a little jealous of, shall we?' he suggested softly as he rested his cheek on her forehead and held her closely against him. A bitter anger flooded her being, lending a forbidding glitter to the swift, upward glance she stabbed at him, but after a few seconds it was washed away by the magic of his arms around her. Slowly the lights began to dim as the band switched to an unashamedly sentimental tune. Every nerve in Janey's body tensed as Theo slid his hand across the smoothness of her shoulder before moving it to her hips, pressing her down the full length of him in a movement which was openly sensual and provocative. 'Theo--' she began, afraid that someone would notice, afraid too of her own response to his blatant seduction. 'Hush,' he murmured, but when she pulled away from him he smiled unpleasantly in the half-darkness. 'Coward!' 'Maybe,' she retorted unevenly, 'but I have some sense!' 'Oh no, you haven't, or you wouldn't be dancing with me. You're as reckless as your beautiful sister.' Something in his voice made her lift her head sharply. Scanning the tough inflexibility of his expression, she drew in a deep breath, but before she could make a complete fool of herself-by demanding what he meant by that enigmatic statement the lights brightened, the music crashed to a finale and he drew her to one side, delivering her to Sam and their group with a mocking smile which made her feel like kicking his shin and then crying. Already they knew that he was Theo Brady. They had been agog and fascinated, speculating on how wealthy he must be, how he had gained

the experience to write his books. They had sickened Janey and she was glad that Sam, at least, had said little about him. It seemed that her gladness had been a little premature, for as he changed down to help his old-bomb over the last steep hill before the village Sam said abruptly: 'What excuse did Carrington give for not telling us who he really is?' 'None,' she said distantly. 'He seemed to have plenty to say to you while you were dancing together.' Uneasily she moved, pressing her shoulders back against the seat. 'He just wanted privacy. And he really is Theo Carrington. Brady is a nom-de-plume.' 'Well, if you ask me it's a poor thing to do. Still'— he was obviously trying to be objective—'I suppose if a guy writes that sort of book he needs some privacy.' 'Oh, don't you start too,' she begged, sickened by the nods and hints, the outrageous suggestions which had been bandied around. 'Not going to,' Sam said steadily. 'But you only have to look at him to see that he's be<en around, Jay. It , sticks out a mile.' 'I know that.' She tried for lightness of tone and hoped that she managed it. 'Why the concern, Sam? Are you afraid I might be falling for him?' It was a dangerous question, because Sam was quick and intuitive when it came to human relationship. For a moment she thought he knew her secret and braced herself for his pity. But after a barely noticeable hesitation he said carefully, 'No, I think he fascinates you,

but then he's a fascinating guy: That's part of his stock in trade; probably helps a lot when it comes to gathering material for his books. He seems to have a powerful effect on Penny. At a venture I'd say for the first time in her life she's met someone who hasn't fallen in a heap at her feet and she doesn't know quite how to cope.' He seemed rather glad to forsake the subject of Theo's effect on Janey for the less disturbing one of Penny's response to the man. Janey was glad of it, for she could not have continued parrying his questions for very long without revealing some of the turmoil that Theo had woken within her. 'Penny isn't silly,' she said warily. 'I mean, she's certainly attracted to Theo, but then he's attracted to her. Who wouldn't be?' 'Loyal Janey! Quite a few, oddly enough. Your sister is a bit too hard and glossy for some men.' He smiled at her bewilderment. 'Truly. She's like a rose without much scent, one of those beautiful modern blooms which look superb and which everyone admires, but if you ask them which bushes they have in their garden they'll tell you all the old favourites. The form may not be so perfect, but the scent is beautiful and the colour is deeper and warmer.' Sheer shock robbed Janey of speech for some moments. This view of Penny was almost heretical, yet she would not have been human had she not felt a small sly pleasure that at least one male wasn't completely bowled over by her lovely sister. Then she remembered the care with which Penny had done her hair and the gift of the perfume and felt ashamed of her meanness. 'Don't you like her?' she asked after a moment. 'Yes, very much. I just don't think she's perfect, as you seem to. Unless you want to be in her shadow all your life, Janey, you'll have to drop

that hero- worshipping attitude and realise that you're just as worthwhile a person as she is.' He sounded exasperated yet tentative, as though expecting a rebuff, but although Janey was surprised and a little shocked by his words she felt an unaccountable wave of affection for him flood through her. He was a dear, and he was trying to build her confidence. Even though he was going about it the wrong way she gave him credit for the attempt, and when they arrived at the door and he kissed her she responded, unconsciously revealing that she had been kissed by an expert. His mouth was firm, but there was none of the magic; that Theo's touch created. Afterwards Janey found to her horror that there were, tears in her eyes. Perhaps she had hoped that it was the embrace she responded to, not the man. Well, she knew now that it was only Theo who made her blood sing in her veins as though she was an instrument only for his playing. 'Who were you kissing?' Sam asked very softly, continuing as she shook her head impatiently. 'I know it wasn't me.' I'm sorry,' she whispered. 'Why?' He released her, stepping back into the pale light of the stars. 'Janey, don't apologise all of the time. There's no reason why I should ask you a. question like that; certainly no reason why you should answer it. Goodnight.' 'Goodnight, Same.' On impulse she reached up and Kissed his cheek, was rewarded by his startled chuckle and a swift tug at a lock of her hair, and then he turned and was gone. The engine purred into life as the car slid quietly down the drive towards the road. Thoughtful as always, Sam did not make any more noise than was necessary in case he woke the sleeping street.

Janey had never felt more wide awake. Picking up Shai, who had appeared, shadow-like, from the darkness, she walked silently across the dew-wet grass towards the jacaranda tree. The feathery foliage and the huge trusses of lavender-purple flowers kept the hammock from being dampened by the dew; it took only a moment for Jaiiey to climb into it, arrange Shai on her chest and lie still as the night air, waiting for—what? It was very calm, not a breath of wind or any sound. The heavy fragrance of the queen of the night flowers permeated the entire garden, exotic, romantic as the luminous blooms of the pale hibiscuses, shallow saucers in the darkness. Above, the stars glowed like gems in the thick velvet of the sky, the spangled path of the Milky Way separating the hemispheres. To the south the four great stars and the fifth little one of the Southern Cross pointed the way to the South Pole. It was very beautiful, very solemn. Janey gave up her worry about the complicated tangle of emotions which surrounded her to abandon herself to awe and a chastening reflection that humanity was a very small part of the universe! Slowly, the peace seeped into her soul. How long she lay there in the scented darkness staring at the sky with Shari a warm, quiescent heap on her breast she never knew. It seemed hours; it could have been no more than ten minutes. But at last after yawning twice she got up and made her way back across the lawn towards the open doors of her room. She saw them as soon as she turned the corner of the house, two silhouettes blended into one as Theo kissed Penny with what seemed to be devouring passion. Janey stopped, shrinking back against the white boards of the house, but Shai leaped gracefully from her arms up on to the terrace, miaowing cheerfully. Penny laughed, her head tilted back so that the fair hair spilled like moonlight across Theo's arm.

'Come on up, Janey,' she called softly. 'We can see you!'' Thank God there was only the faint glow of the stars to see by. At least the anguish which must be imprinted on her face was concealed. As if her feet were weighted with lead Janey walked up the steps at the side of the terrace, dreading the sight of the two of them in each other's arms. But they had separated. Penny was stroking Shai, a Shai who struggled until she was free, then sprang across to Theo's shoulder, swiped his cheek with one lavender paw and fled back to Janey. 'What are you doing?' Penny asked, her voice .high and excited yet not cross.. It was almost as though she welcomed the interruption. With the memory of her own reactions to Theo's kisses only too vivid Janey thought she knew why. 'Stargazing,' she returned, trying to keep her voice cool and uninterested. 'Sorry to interrupt, but I didn't know you were here.' Penny laughed and Theo smiled, a white flash in the darkness before he asked blandly, 'Did you enjoy yourself tonight?' For all the world like her father! A slow, deep- burning anger began to smoulder within Janey, an anger fuelled by his arrogant assumption that it was perfectly O.K. for him to make love to both Bowden sisters and not suffer the slightest touch of shame. Of all the nerve! she thought furiously. From Penny's attitude it was quite clear that Theo hadn't told her he had lost his head with her naive young sister; no doubt he trusted that Janey's embarrassment would prevent her from blurting it out. Perhaps he hoped to gather material for his next book! Well, with luck he would find that Penny was more than able to cope with him, and he was never going to get another chance to lay a hand on Janey!

Her anger made her lift her head proudly, deepened her voice with a note of sarcasm as she answered him. 'Yes, thank you, very much. It's been a most instructive evening.' Penny chuckled. 'True. For all of us, I think. Are you off to bed now?' A huge yawn split Janey's face. Hastily covering it with her hand, she said, 'Yes. Thank heavens we don't have to get up early. Goodnight, Theo. 'Night, Penny.' 'Goodnight, chicken.' That was Penny. Theo opened the door into her bedroom as casually as if he had always known where she slept and as she passed in front of him he tweaked a lode of her hair back from her face. And the touch of his hand made her draw in her breath sharply as if he had hit her. The starlight glitter of his glance unnerved her. With a muffled goodnight she fled in between the curtains and stood, hands clenched against her sides, until the sound of their departing voices helped her relax. When at last she finally slept it was with the determination not to have anything more to do with him engraved on her sore heart. He was too tough, too knowledgeable about everything, and especially the relations between the sexes, to be anything but a threat to her peace of mind. By reminding herself frequently that he was Theo Brady, rather notorious best-selling author, she should be able to manage her unruly heart. After all, she thought wearily, physical attraction was as old as the hills and she was far from the first girl to fall headlong into the trap set by a handsome, reckless pirate. As she drifted off to sleep she thought she had been a little unfair to him. He had set no snare for her feet, had, in fact, warned her off. Which made it all the odder that that embrace she had witnessed should have seemed so flagrant a betrayal. Wishful thinking again,

hoping against hope that he found in Her something more than the physical to appeal to him. Sighing, she faced the fact that it was her hopes which had betrayed her, not Theo. He had made no pretence at loving her, certainly had no reason not to make love to Penny. Except —it seemed a little tactless of him, and although Janey realised the limitations of her knowledge of men she would have been prepared to bet her new caftan that Theo was too experienced and sophisticated to be tactless unless it was necessary.

'Did we embarrass you?' Penny seemed quite casual about the whole affair the next morning. 'You gave me a terrific fright. I thought at first you were a prowler, until Shai jumped out of your arms.' Janey pulled the sheet up under her chin, yawning to cover her emotions. 'You should put out a sign or something.' 'Beware, danger ahead.' Penny stretched, then got up to wander across to the window, staring out through the screens. 'You get a good view of the basin from here. You know, Janey, that man has me puzzled.' She paused as though waiting for a question. With a throat clogged by anger and frustration Janey could not speak, but when Penny looked across at her she lifted her eyebrows in interrogation. 'Because he's so darned casual,' her sister complained. 'He made me feel as though I'd initiated the whole affair and that he'd followed my lead because it amused him to do so. I didn't like it much.' This time Janey nodded and managed to mutter, 'Understandable.' 'Mm.' Penny grinned, not at all put out. 'But I'm determined to bring him to his knees, just you wait and see. What did you think of Mrs Sarah Turner's bombshell?'

'Well, I wasn't that surprised,' said Janey. 'I mean, I found it-hard to believe that he just roamed the seas.' 'I know what you mean. He's too vital a person to be content with an aimless life, even though a buccaneer is more romantic than a tramp. Have you read his books?' ^ Janey nodded. 'Yes, Dad had them home from the library and I couldn't resist them. Have you?' 'Oh yes. They were very popular at 'varsity too; actually, I believe the Political Science people recommended them as good background reading.' Drumming her fingers on the back of a chair, Penny stared through the screens as if trying to see through Toroa*s wooden hull. 'He's a good writer. No wonder he can afford a lovely yacht like that to roam around the world. Great life, eh?' It was as Penny finished speaking that Janey faced something she had carefully avoided thinking about all this time—ever since she had met Theo, in fact. Perhaps it was the unusual note of wistfulness in her sister's voice, perhaps a different light in the clear blue eyes, but Janey knew that for Penny this thing had gone beyond her usual sort of love affair. Penny was thinking about life with Theo either as his wife or his resident woman, and Janey knew enough of her sister's strength of will to hope for everyone's sake that she could persuade Theo to marry her. Even though, she thought heavily, to see Theo as Penny's husband would be the doom of her own hopes and fears. It seemed to be a morning for facing things. When Penny left Janey scrunched down between the sheets hoping that more sleep would prevent the unpleasant thoughts chasing themselves around her brain. When her sister's disclosure prevented any such outcome, however. Wide-eyed, Janey lay staring at the ceiling, and by the time her sister reappeared bearing a tray with coffee and toast she had admitted to herself that whatever it was which she felt for Theo, it was more than

just the attraction between two healthy and personable animals. Last night, when she had seen his mouth pressed on Penny's, she had felt a desolation so intense that it had jolted her from careless childhood into another state. She had died a little, and yet the paradox was that in that death she had found some sort of maturity. Was that what growing up was about? The death of all illusions, one by painful one, until one faced life stripped of all which had made it bearable, and only one's own inner strength as a guide. Once—long ago, before she had met Theo--she had thought that falling in love must be sweet, a joyous meeting of mind and spirit and body, a sharing of all that was good in two people. In some ways perhaps it was, for she had spent many happy hours with Theo discovering him to be interesting and intelligent in spite of his cynical outlook and occasional contempt. But mostly it had been pain, an aftermath of disillusion which spoiled the memory of their dealings with each other. And yet to see him with Penny was agony of mind and spirit past bearing, as though something fragile and lovely had been smirched beyond recognition. That he was casual, almost jaded in his approach to women she knew only too well, and yet he still possessed the power to wound her unbearably. 'You're looking very sombre,' Penny said lightly. 'Suffering from too little sleep?' 'No. Just thinking.' Penny laughed, passing her a mug of coffee. 'I remember the long deep thoughts of adolescence. Any idea what you want to do yet?' 'No. I don't suppose I'll ever do anything much. I'm not good at anything.' Janey spoke without bitterness, but kept her lashes lowered to cover her eyes.

'Nonsense,' Penny said bracingly. 'You know, Janey, I think you've been tackling this whole job thing from the wrong angle. So, you weren't brilliant at school, but you still did pretty well. If I remember rightly your marks in English and History and Music were very good all the way through. Bearing those in mind, think of the things you like doing best.' 'Reading, sailing, fishing, gardening and cryptic crosswords.' Janey supplied promptly. 'And cleaning tarnished silver.' She could repress a smile at the amazement on her sister's face at this somewhat startling collection of pastimes, but Penny was not one to be put off easily. 'Well, it's a start,' she said with commendable firmness. 'You like music too, I know. Your record collection is huge and pretty varied. Is there anything at all that you've ever thought you would like to do, however wild or far out?' 'Crew a yacht to the islands.' 'I mean as a job, idiot.' Janey shook her head. 'No. At least—I'd like to think that whatever I did was useful.' Her sister looked at her with interest. 'I think I know what you mean,' she said after a moment. 'You always were an earnest thing, Janey. You know, it seems to me that half your trouble is lack of confidence and the other half is not having any saleable skills yet. Why don't you go to Auckland to business college and take a business course? Then you'd have something to bargain with. If you can type and keep books and things there are plenty of openings.' She laughed suddenly. 'You could go with Theo on Toroa and be his secretary !'

Janey smiled, a victory of will over inclination, then to hide her emotion said swiftly, 'You're probably right. If I did that I would have some kind of training behind me, even if all I ever do is work in an office.' 'Plenty of people thoroughly enjoy work in an office,' Penny told her briskly. 'Drink your coffee, there's a love, and we'll go and beard Mum and Dad.' Their parents were quite amenable, only making one stipulation. 'You must spend the first year at least with Aunt Catherine,' Joy said firmly. 'You'd enjoy that, Janey, as you get on so well with her.' Yes, Janey did find her father's competent, slightly zany sister sympathetic and had no hesitation about spending a year in such congenial company. 'Are you sure she'll have me?' she asked doubtfully. 'Yes. She enjoyed the year Penny stayed with her, and it's always been taken for granted that if you went to Auckland you would stay there too,' Ian told her. But her mother asked quietly, 'Are you sure you really want to go, Janey? You don't have to, you know.' Some animal instinct warned Janey that Joy had noticed something, that there was more than her mother's usual caution in the query. At that moment pity, even her mother's loving, unspoken sympathy, was more than Janey's pride could bear. Until that moment she had allowed herself to be borne along on Penny's enthusiasm; now, however, she made her final commitment.

'Yes, of course,' she returned, lifting her lashes to reveal the opaque amber of her eyes as her mouth curved into a smile. 'As Penny says, at least it will give me something to bargain with.' 'Then we must see about getting you some decent clothes. You won't want to use your allowance to buy them when you get there.' If her mother had sensed that Janey's heart wasn't entirely in this move to Auckland she gave no sign of it, neither then or in the subsequent days when they all helped with the outfitting of a wardrobe for her. The hot weather, unremitting and relentless, seemed to be fretting everyone's nerves, or perhaps it was the emotional climate of the place. Janey saw little of Sam once the holidays were over; he was finding his job at the freeing works very tiring according to his mother. Paul went away off on a camp and left a gap quite out of proportion to his size in the household. And Penny seemed—different, somehow; by turns sweet and sharp. She went out several times with Geoff McDonald before announcing that she had finally broken with him for good and all. Janey, sorry for him, told herself that that was where misplaced, devotion got you. Nowhere. The lesson was plain to see. Hankering after Theo Carrington was an easy road to pain and misery and ultimate despair, and it was one she was not going to take, so she applied herself fiercely to the preparations for her departure. Of Theo they saw very little, which probably explained Penny's odd moods. Apparently he took Phyl Talbot out a couple of times; the local grapevine was extraordinarily efficient, especially when reporting to anyone who might conceivably have an interest in the events it relayed. Sadly it seemed that Penny's interest in Theo had somehow become generally known, for there could be no doubt that she was being tossed snippets of information about Theo's doings and then watched for her reactions. Janey felt that she could not bear it, but in

spite of the fact that the interest of her mother's friends must have galled her every feeling Penny smiled and refused to show it. And Janey found that she hated Theo as much for humiliating Penny as she had for the fact that he had kissed her so soon after he had awoken Janey to the needs and desires of her body. He was quite despicable, she decided, and every word of his wretched books must be absolutely true, especially the bits where the hero left his weeping lover with never a backward glance! It was in this mood that she discovered that her mother had arranged for her to go to an interview with someone from the Technical Institute; arranged, furthermore, that Theo should drive her to Auckland and bring her back two days later. 'But, Mum --!' Janey protested, real dismay putting an odd tremble into her voice. 'My dear girl, it's by far the best way.' Joy pushed a limp lock of hair back from her brow, her fine eyes tired. 'Your father finds the heat in Auckland intolerable at this time of the year, and quite frankly, dear, I do too. Aunt Catherine will take, you to the interview and look after you, and as Theo has to go down and said he would be glad of the company it seemed by far the best arrangement.' On the brink of refusing flatly to go anywhere with Theo Janey noticed how tired her mother looked, hesitated, then capitulated. The network of tiny lines around her mother's eyes faded; Joy touched her daughter's cheek with an uncertain finger. 'That's my good girl.' 'When is this appointment?'

'The day after tomorrow. Theo wants to leave early tomorrow morning so that he gets most of the journey over before it gets too hot, so you'll have to get to bed early tonight.' Which was all very well, except that it was one thing to go to bed and quite another to sleep. In the end Janey took one of her mother's sleeping tablets. It was on her way back from the bathroom that she heard the weeping. Soft but terrifyingly insistent, the noise came from Penny's room. Janey hesitated, wondering what on earth to do. If she let her sister know she had heard her it was at the risk of humiliating her, but Janey knew perfectly well that she could not go by and let Penny cry alone in the dark like that, so she opened the door into her sister's bedroom and went in. It was quite dark, the only light coming from the great clusters of stars through the window. When Janey opened the door there was a sharp movement from the bed, and the weeping choked into silence for a moment. . 'It's only me,' Janey whispered, closing the door carefully behind her. 'Can I get you a drink, or something?' 'Go away!' came the hissing whisper. 'Leave me alone, Janey.' 'I can't.' Janey sat on the side of the bed, afraid to make any movement towards her sister but quite determined not to leave her. 'Is it—is it anything you'd care to talk about?' 'No,' said Penny desolately, but the choked sobbing had stopped and after a moment there came the noise of her nose being blown defiantly. Janey hoped that Penny would find it in her heart to ease herself of some of her burden; then a suspicion of the truth crept into her brain

and she cursed herself for being such a fool as to lay herself open to more pain if she had to listen to Penny talk about Theo. For, of course, she must be crying over his neglect of her. 'Well, I'm sorry,' Janey returned awkwardly. A slim hand fastened itself around Janey's capable one and squeezed, 'You're a dear,' her sister said thickly. 'But in this case of pride going before a fall I have to find my own cure. Don't worry about me, Janey.' 'Don't be an idiot.' There were a few minutes of companionable silence before Penny continued, 'Pride can turn into conceit very swiftly, I've discovered. I needed a lesson like this to prove that I'm not irresistible. In a few weeks I'll be thankful to Theo.' She brought out his name with a kind of gallant defiance which wrung Janey's heart. Carefully keeping her voice level, she murmured, 'Do you feel O.K. now?' 'Yes.' Penny's voice caught on the word, but after, another attempt at blowing her nose it came more strongly. 'He's too experienced for the likes of me, Janey. Too tough and too cynical. I wonder just what's made him that way? He thought—he knew I was just another willing girl and so he made casual love to me —that time you saw us. But he must have guessed that I was nowhere near his league, so he did the best thing possible.' 'Left you flat?' Janey couldn't suppress the indignation in her voice. 'Mm. Cruel, but that's Theo. At least he raised no false hopes.' There was a long pause, then Penny resumed, 'When he sees I've got the message he'll act as though nothing has happened. And so will I. All very civilised.'

But there was bitterness and pain in her light tones, so much that Janey knew her sister had built her hopes high and was suffering the consequences of seeing them fall. Join the club, she thought sadly. Theo Carrington had a lot to answer for. Still, although he was hardened by the life he had led perhaps Penny was right and his ruthless handling of the incident was the correct way. Janey knew quite well that she could not have been so merciless, but a clean wound healed faster. 'I'm sorry,' she said again, feeling completely inadequate. 'So am I, at the moment, but I'll get over it. There hasn't been time for me to fall in love, thank the Lord. He excited me, that's all. I've never met a man like him, sp dominating and devil-may-care and yet clever and creative with it. He's like an Elizabethan, the sort who tossed off a beautiful sonnet to his mistress and then went out and slayed himself a dozen Spaniards before breakfast just to keep his hand in.' Janey chuckled softly, while acknowledging the truth of his sister's observation. Penny had the clearer vision; Janey's picture of him as a pirate had taken into account only one side of his complex character, ignoring the writer—and the lover. The Elizabethans, she remembered, had been great lovers, but it was almost impossible for her to visualise Theo in love. He would hate losing his independence, she was sure, loathe the idea of looking to a woman for any part of his happiness. Yet if any woman ever breached the impregnable defences he seemed to have erected around his heart, he would be a demanding, exciting lover. Janey thought that if she were any judge of the man, his woman would never be able to call her soul her own! Once Theo gave himself there would be no turning back and he would demand an equal commitment in response. The thought was sinfully sweet. Unconsciously Janey had put a hand to her throat, perhaps trying to still the heavy beating of her pulses.

'Hop off the bed,' Penny ordered. 'I promise not to bawl any more. Goodnight,' 'Goodnight,' Janey whispered. She was halfway to the door when her sister's wry, half-forlorn voice arrested her. 'Everyone is entitled to make a fool of themselves once,' she said. 'That hurdle is over. And when I think how I've treated poor Geoff all these years, keeping him on a very loose rein in case I needed him, I think I deserved a short sharp lesson. I'm glad I've broken it off with him. He might settle himself to falling for some more suitable girl now that he has absolutely no hope as far as I'm concerned.' So it seemed as though it was almost entirely chastened pride which had hurt Penny; her heart had barely been touched. In bed, with the effects of the sleeping pill making themselves felt, Janey wondered sleepily why Penny should have all the luck. She even managed to escape unscathed from Theo's disturbing attraction, when it was beginning to make itself quite dear to Janey that his effect on her own heart and life was going to be permanent. In the jumble of emotions she felt for him, among the anger and pain and misgiving and disappointment, there was one she had never met before, one which forgave him and longed-for him and wanted him. It was very sweet, and she knew it must be love.

CHAPTER SEVEN WHEN she saw Theo the next morning it was as if the sun had come through after days of rain. Miraculously the realisation of her love gave her the confidence to meet the cool assessment of his green-grey glance without blushing. Four hours in the same car with him was going to be a nicely blended mixture of heaven and hell, but she would endure the pain for the pleasure. Perhaps the smile she gave him revealed more of her feelings than was wise, for his gaze sharpened into wariness, became a piercing scrutiny which she could not bear. Fortunately her mother came through from the kitchen. 'Ah, Theo, would you like some coffee before you go?' she enquired, apparently quite unaware of the tension which crackled between her daughter and the man she was entrusted to. 'No, thank you, Joy, I'd like to get away.' That sharp glance rested momentarily on Janey's mouth, then was transformed to his usual blandness. 'Ready, Jane?' 'Yes. Her mother kissed her cheek. "Bye, dear. Ring tomorrow night to tell us how the interview went, won't you? Don't forget to give our love to Catherine. You're sure you have enough money?' Theo said urbanely, 'If she .hasn't I'll lend her enough to cover expenses.' Even this didn't upset Joy. 'I'm sure you will,' she beamed. 'Have a good time, dears.'

Although the dawn chorus was finished it was barely light, but as they got into the car the sun came up over the line of hills to the east, gilding Theo's hair into an aureole of gold. He looked like a Greek god, one of those splendid beings immortalised by their vibrant sexuality and their total lack of self-control. Well, Theo had the sexuality all right, but the set of his mouth and the square chin denoted only too much selfcontrol. Janey knew that she could not allow herself to be lured into such speculations as what it would be, like to see his expression with the control erased by passion. So, swiftly, she said, 'Thank you for offering to take me. It saves Dad a boring trip. He hates Auckland.' His smile was satirical. 'I didn't exactly offer. Let's say that your mother was so pleased at the idea that it would have been churlish to refuse to agree.' It took a moment or two for the significance of this remark to sink home. When it did Janey felt a flare of resentment which gave her the courage to answer, 'Are you going to be like this all the way down?' 'Like this? Like what?' he asked in a voice as smooth as cream. 'Sarcastic. Because if you are, I won't make conversation at all.' His shout of laughter warmed her heart. 'No, Jane, I'll be nice to you, but don't, please, feel obliged to make conversation. When you've got something to say, say it. I find your silences as pleasing as your conversation, and I'm not being sarcastic! You have a trice, restful way of being silent.' 'I hope that's a compliment,' she said doubtfully, refusing to respond to the caressing note in his deep tones. When he wanted to he could

charm the birds from the trees and he knew it, she reflected with some resentment. Charm was the most potent, the most unfair weapon in anybody's armoury and Theo was not above using his without scruple. It seemed that he was determined to make the journey pleasant, for within ten minutes he had her helplessly laughing at an anecdote; she replied in kind and as the morning grew into golden splendour Janey found herself relaxing her guard. The fact that she did not have to face him made this much easier. One thing about a car, in spite of the fact that she was sitting too close to him she had to turn her head to look directly at him, and it was not considered impolite to look ahead all the time. His lean brown hands so competently handling the wheel were disturbing enough as was the sound of his voice; when Theo set out to entertain it would take a woman with iron determination to resist him. Leaving busy, bustling Whangarei city behind them they crossed the wide, fertile Ruakaka fiats and then through the tiny Scottish settlement of Waipu with its stone Hall of Memories behind the obelisks in memory of the dead of two world wars before the car tackled the steep slopes of the Brynderwyn Hills. 'When I was smaller I used to think these hills were the boundary between us and the rest of the world,' Janey remarked, shading her eyes from the immense sweep of silver-blue sea to the east. 'Between fairyland and the real world. Which was fairyland?' 'Oh, Northland.' She sighed and turned to peer through the back window at the splendid volcanic crags which marked the Whangarei heads, the Hen and Chicken islands and the triangle of Sail Rock, jewels in the shimmering, scintillating sea. 'We came here in February,' she said, turning back again, 'England had been bitterly cold and Auckland was so humid that it was exhausting. Aunt Catharine drove us up and as we came further north it got hotter

and the air became drier. We came over this hill and there was that glorious panorama before us, the islands blue and hazy, the impudence of the red and white chimney stack at the power station and the perpetual flame at the oil refinery. In Whangarei the hibiscuses were blooming and everything looked so clean and rich, like the garden of Eden. I fell in love with the North then.' 'Have you seen much of the rest of New Zealand?' 'Oh yes. We always go touring for our holidays. Don't get me wrong, I love other parts too, but I think the North has something special.' 'Every part of the country is special,' he said. 'Central Otago is superb with its mighty rivers and acres of apricot orchards and autumn colours, and Stewart Island, right down to the bottom, is unique and delightful, just to mention two. But I agree with you as far as your beloved North is concerned. Aren't you going to find it difficult to adjust to city life?' Shrugging, she returned, I'll have to adjust. I don't , want to go, but if I stay at home I'll never do anything.' 'What would you like td do?' 'That's the trouble. Nothing. At least--' she stopped, biting her lip. 'At least?' he prompted. She felt the swift, razor-sharp glance as if it were tangible, a slash across her cheek. 'I'd like to do what you do,' she said baldly. Perhaps she imagined the sharp intake of breath just before his reply, for when he spoke his tone was smooth and subtly mocking. 'Is that an offer? Because if it is, you should be careful whom you proposition, Jane. If I were a few years younger—or you a few years older— I'd take you up on it.'

Embarrassed, scarlet with mortification, she retorted brusquely, T didn't mean that, and you know it! I meant—I'd like to travel in a yacht, crew on one of the big blue-water cruisers.' He laughed and touched her face, carelessly running his finger down the hot contour of her cheekbone. 'Poor Jane, you're blushing. I'm sorry. Tell me, if you have sea water in your veins why are you going for art interview to see if you can be fitted into an office career?' 'Because there's no opening for me in anything else,' she said, dampening down the fierce lick of anticipation which his casual caress had sent surging through her veins. 'As Penny says, I should have some training behind me.' 'That's the sensible way to look at things, and your sister is eminently sensible,' he agreed in a voice devoid of any expression. 'You, unfortunately, are not in the least sensible, are you?' 'No, I suppose not.' 'Romantic, idealistic Jane! You've managed to avoid the mould of convention up until now. Why give in at this late stage? I thought you had more courage.' Perhaps, if she had not made herself look so stupid before, had his voice been anything but lightly amused; perhaps if her knowledge of his treatment of Penny did not lie between them—perhaps she might have answered differently, for the thought of what she was doing with her life appalled her. 'It's all very well for you,' she said, resentment colouring her tones, her profile aloof and austere. 'You're a man, so nobody's worried unduly about you. It's different for women.' 'Other women have done it.'

'I know, I know. Don't, Theo! Sooner or later I have to grow up and it will be easier if I do it now. Apart from anything else, I'll have to work if only to get the money to do the things I really want to do 1' 'Such as?' He was remorseless as if he knew that she had made no plans at all for her future. It didn't seem worthwhile, for the only future which held any hope of happiness was one which included him; any other existence would be inexpressibly dreary—at least, until she was healed of the wound in her heart caused by her hopeless love. That it might never heal was something she refused to face. So she returned stubbornly: 'Oh, lots of things. Don't probe, Theo.' 'Very well, I won't, but it seems as though you're determined to waste your life, like so many others, working at a job you can barely tolerate while waiting for a man to come along and marry you.' The scorn in his voice flicked her on the raw. Without pausing to think through the consequences of such a remark she blurted out, 'What on earth do you think I should do?' 'Oh no. I don't make decisions for others.' He slanted a sideways glance at her, saw the hot amber of her eyes filled with anger and a kind of desperation and smiled, a twisted ironic movement of his mouth. 'Life is not easy, Jane. But I'll give you one piece of advice which I've found to be pretty valid. If you want something badly enough, and you bend your every energy towards your dream, you'll get there. You have to decide whether the game is worth the candle, of course. It has been known for people to get where they wanted to be and find that wasn't what they really wanted after all.'

'There speaks the cynic!' Janey looked down at her hands, clenched and tense in her lap. With care she relaxed the muscles, saw the thin brown fingers curve into more graceful attitudes and went on quietly, Is that how you've got where you are, Theo? By ruthlessly applying yourself to your aims?' 'Yes. You don't sound as though you approve. Does ambition repel you?' 'No.' She thought, trying to sort her jumbled feelings into some sort of order. How could she tell him that it was the ruthlessness which frightened her, not the ambition? Her glance strayed to the relaxed yet purposeful grip of his hands on the wheel. Hands to trust, she thought .fancifully, but hands which could hurt as well as caress. He had been quite ruthless where Penny was concerned, chopping her from his life with one swift clean stroke when he realised that she was not able to carry on his kind of casual affair. Kinder in the long run, of course, but it showed determination and an uncompromising will which frightened her. 'No,' she said again, more strongly this time. 'But you must be very certain, very sure of yourself to make a success of that approach to life.' 'And you're not.' 'No, I'm not.' Theo shrugged. 'You're young, and your parents have always treated you as a slightly dim-witted child. Growing up in your sister's shadow hasn't helped your self-confidence either. Even this jaunt is at Penny's instigation. It's entirely up to you whether you continue to live in her shadow or strike out on your own. Independence is lonely, of course, but it has its compensations. Are you hungry?'

And that marked the end of the odd conversation, an unsatisfactory ending for Janey. She could not help feeling that in some way she had disappointed him, but she did not know how or why, and she could not ask. He became the tolerant adult escorting a young child, withdrawn, amused in a mocking way which made her feel gauche and angry. The shutters were down. One look at the green-grey opacity of his glance told her that, yet she would have known even had she not seen him. In some strange way she had become attuned to his moods, and beneath the urbane exterior she sensed anger. But at whom she did not know. Aunt Catherine was gardening when they arrived. Stripping the gloves from her hands, she came towards them, shrewd eyes resting first on the tanned, finely cut features of the man, then flitting on to Janey, flushed, her lashes drooping to cover the golden eyes. 'My dear,' the older woman smiled, kissing her niece. 'And Mr Carrington. Do come in and I'll give you some lunch.' Catherine Singer was a widow with two grown-up sons, both officers in the New Zealand Air Force, a considerable amount of money and what she described as 'the insatiable curiosity of an Elephant's Child.' Possessed of a warm heart and an active social conscience as well as the gift of organisation, she had found herself heading an organisation which helped refugee children all over the world. It involved a lot of travelling, but Catherine also had immense stamina, as evidenced by the fact that she was working in her small immaculate garden on one of the hottest days Auckland had ever experienced. She lived in a town house, an elegant little building in a complex which always made Janey think of a fairy tale. The architect had given it a quality of fantasy which should have been incongruous but blended perfectly with the elegant old homes which surrounded it. 'It's cooler out than in, I think,' Catherine remarked, leading the way inside. 'Each summer I wonder why I don't have the place

air-conditioned, but normally this enervating heat lasts for such a short time it doesn't seem worth it.' Directing Janey to the bathroom off the main bedroom, she ordered her to wash, then showed Theo where the other bathroom was. Ten minutes later, when Janey emerged fresh and newly lipsticked, she heard Catherine talking to Theo on the terrace. They appeared to be on the best of terms. As she took the sherry Theo poured for her Janey wished she had just( a little of her aunt's poise. And Theo's, if it came to that. In this setting he was completely at home as Janey could never be. After a moment or two the reason for this was quite apparent; both he and Catherine were the same sort of people, sophisticated and with the discerning eye which saw so easily beneath the surface. There was a difference, for Catherine's was a kindly eye while Theo found much to amuse him in the squirms of the people he put under the microscope. 'You're very quiet, Jane,' Catherine commented. 'Have you a headache, dear?' Janey flushed. 'No, I don't get many headaches now. I must have grown out of them, I think.' 'Good.' The blue glance was penetrating but kind. 'I think you must have stopped growing at last. At one stage I thought you were going to hit six feet if you kept on at the rate you started. You look well, Jane, as though you're growing into yourself.' 'I hope so.' Acutely aware of Theo's sardonic smile, Janey could not prevent a slight flush across the high bones of her cheeks. Damn him! she thought frustratedly. How dared he grin like a Cheshire cat at her aunt's innocent words? She knew as clearly as if he had spoken that he was thinking of that afternoon at Sandy Bay when she had done some

rapid maturing in his arms. Her flush deepened, but she was not going to give Aunt Catherine any reason to wonder or surmise. 'I can now manage my arms and legs if I concentrate,' she said lightly, her smile a gleam of mischief. 'At least, I can move through a room without knocking things over, so I must be gaining some control over my limbs. Remember the time I tripped and fell into the buffet dinner you'd carefully set out on the table?* Catherine laughed comfortably. 'I remember—only too vividly! I don't think I've ever seen a more horror- stricken countenance than the one that peered at me through the remnants of the rice salad!' She turned to Theo, encompassing him in the warmth of their reminiscences. 'Penny always reminded me of a cat, very sinuous and smooth-flowing, but Jane was like a colt, all arms and legs every which way, with nothing but the promise of future grace.' The sharp blue eyes moved back to Janey's face, even more flushed by the compliment. 'I'm glad to see that the promise is being fulfilled,' her aunt finished briskly, 'Now I suggest we have lunch before it melts away.' After lunch Theo left, bestowing one last penetrating scrutiny on Janey before smiling and wishing her good luck in her interview. Uneasy but unable to understand why, Janey prowled the living room until her aunt decided to take her shopping. 'Anything to stop that attack of the jitters,' she commented. 'Come on, I'll show you some of my favourite shops.' They went to Parnell Village, an enchanting spot where old houses had been converted into small specialty shops with a loving attention to detail which had brought its own reward of beauty. As she admired the exotic goods for sale Janey heard several different accents, American, Australian, some rapid Chinese and Japanese from superbly groomed Asians. It appeared that Parnell Village was one of the sights of

Auckland, along with the classical splendours of the Museum erected in memory of those who had died in the world wars. Janey caught sight of it high on its hill above Auckland, a white-colonnaded facade which protected a magnificent collection of Pacific art and artefacts. 'We haven't time today,' said Aunt Catherine, laughing at the wistful expression on her niece's face. 'Tomorrow, after the interview.'

The interview was nothing like the ordeal which Janey had expected. There were three people, two women and a man, who set her at ease instantly. In some ways it seemed just a formality, for they appeared more interested in her school reports than in her! But over a cup of coffee they chatted, explaining what life would be like at the business college, asking her much the same questions as Theo had set her and receiving much the same answers. 'At least,' one of the women remarked cheerfully, 'you're honest! I doubt if any girl ever set her heart on a career as a typist, but believe me, Jane, there are very many openings for anyone who has the skills we intend to teach you if you're accepted. Even if you never work in ah office you'll find your typing of great use, and I hope that the knowledge of how to organise yourself will always be valuable.' All in all, Janey came out of the interview room in a reasonably confident frame of mind, able to enjoy her browse through the Museum and even look forward to the special treat Aunt Catherine promised her, dinner at her favourite restaurant and then the theatre for a performance of Brecht's Caucasian Chalk Circle.

The restaurant was a very elegant one, softly lit to flatter but bright enough so that one could see what one was eating. Janey felt rather gauche, uneasily awarethat the long green dress she wore made her look taller and thinner than she had ever appeared before. Aunt Catherine had helped her with her make-up, so she did not stand out in the assembly of beautifully groomed women, but there could be no doubt that of * all the women there she was the least fashionably dressed. 'You look very nice,' said Aunt Catherine, reading her niece's mind with extraordinary clearness. 'Nobody is staring at you.' 'Oh dear,' Janey muttered. 'Was I casting hunted glances over my shoulder?' 'No, dear, but you had a kind of waiting stillness which seemed to expect some adverse reaction. Do you want to order for yourself?' 'No, you order for me.' As her aunt and the rather sour waiter conferred over the menu Janey looked around her, wishing rather wistfully that she possessed the kind of integral self- assurance which was so much a part of the people here. Any one of the women, even Aunt Catherine, would* know exactly how to deal with Theo Carrington. Even Penny, although he hurt her, had understood his method of dealing with the situation. But not Janey Bowden, who had no ideas of how to cope with him! What exactly had he intended to convey in that conversation as they climbed the Brynderwyns, her barrier between fairyland and the world, on the way down? No doubt, she thought, her eyes fixed rather enviously on the exquisite profile of the woman at the table next to them, no doubt other women would have known what he was saying, but to Janey Bowden who only loved him with all of her heart, he was a complete enigma.

Which was what made it seem so unfair when he came' into the room only a few moments later, escorting a woman who was the epitome of all that Janey envied. She was tall, wand-slim and fragile in a breathless dress of black chiffon, ankle-length and superbly cut to reveal the long graceful lines of her body. Janey dragged her eyes away from the smooth perfection of the woman's features, her sleepy, satisfied smile and the slanted dark eyes to meet her aunt's gaze. And she saw there compassion and understanding. So she knew. Well, her father had always said that his sister was very sharp; after the first shock Janey didn't mind too much, especially as it was quite obvious that Catherine had no intention of discussing the subject unless Janey began it. Theo saw them and lifted a hand in salute, his smile curiously set. After that it was hard for Janey to behave normally, but somehow she talked and laughed and ate, and sat through the play and drank coffee at home and went to bed and even went to sleep. She woke the next morning with a raging headache, but a codeine soon fixed that and when Theo arrived she was ready for him, somewhat heavy-eyed but outwardly serene. Aunt Catherine waved goodbye, Theo swung the car out of the quiet driveway into the hurly- burly of the traffic and the distance ahead stretched out like eternity. They made polite conversation until they were free of the city and driving through the rich pastoral and coastal scenery which extends far to the north of Auckland. 'Enjoy yourself last night?' Theo asked casually as he passed a huge double-decked cattle truck. Janey nodded. 'Very much. Did you?'

Perhaps some note in her voice revealed tension, because he stabbed a swift glance at her. ' Very much,' he jibed, the deep tones emphasising the word with savage distinctness. 'Did you like Thora?' 'Thora? Oh, the girl—woman—you were with?' 'Yes; more woman than girl—Thora Bradley, She's an interior decorator.' 'She's very beautiful.' Try as she might Janey could not prevent the note of envy which insinuated itself into the words. Theo laughed. 'She thought you looked sweet and wholesome. Not exactly a compliment, coming from Thora.' The thought of being discussed by Theo and his woman made Janey so furious that she could hardly think. There had been no doubt that they knew each other intimately, the few times Janey had looked at them Thora Bradley had been quite openly seducing him with her ravishing eyes and smile, and Theo had not been fending her off, she thought waspishly. Anger took away some of the pain and sharpened her wits. With every word softly clear she murmured, T should imagine it's a long time since Miss Bradley has had much to do with anything either wholesome or sweet.' 'Claws,' he said blandly. 'I wonder what it is that brings out the worst in both of you towards the other? It's not like Thora to savage a schoolgirl, and you're not normally poisonous towards members of your own sex.' It seemed to be a time for revelations. Until that moment Janey had been reasonably sure that he had no idea how she felt about him. He

would have been a fool not to know that physically she was aware of him; Theo was no fool and her reactions when he kissed her had been only too revealing. But most women would find Theo desirable, so there would be nothing unusual in that. But Thora Bradley had quite openly been in love with him and that last remark could only mean that he knew that Janey was too. Worst than that, that he found her love as amusing and of as little account in his life as he apparently found the Bradley woman's. Humiliation so searing that she felt as though it would brand her for life made it impossible for her to speak for a moment. But with the humiliation came pride and a gritty defiance which forced her chin out and a sparkle into her eyes, so that they gleamed beneath her dark lashes like glowing amber. 'Perhaps because we're the exact opposite of each other,' she said sweetly. 'What did she think of Aunt Catherine?' 'She admires her. Your aunt is quite well known in Auckland, apparently. My mother works on several committees with her.' 'Does she?' But Janey was not going to allow herself to be lured into showing any interest in his family. 'Aunt Catherine does a Jot of charity work, of course.' 'So does my mama. I think you'd like her.' 'Perhaps.' He lifted a sardonic eyebrow at her. 'What a mulish wench you are! Why shouldn't you like my mother? She's much nicer than I am, and on occasions you've liked me, haven't you?' This light, teasing mood was hard to resist. Janey decided that it would be better to go along with it. 'You told me once that postcards weren't

her style, and I love them,' she said. 'So you see we would have nothing in common.' 'Do you remember everything I said to you?' Yes, said her heart, but—'No, why should I? But that did stick in my mind. How's the book coming on?' 'One of these days I'll refuse to follow your lead when you change the subject. However, I feel in a kindly mood, so I'll answer that. It is not.' 'Not? Oh, has inspiration fled?' 'No,' he said grimly, his lean hand pushing the gear lever into place as they began on a steep hill. 'No, Jane, inspiration has not fled. Let's say something else has got in the way.' 'Oh!' There was nothing else she could say. He was not going to tell her what the stumbling block was, and she was too busy erecting an impregnable wall around her heart to be able to ask him with any degree of casual interest. 'Oh! is about it,' he said abruptly. 'Tell me, do you think you'll be accepted for this business course?' 'I think so. They appeared quite pleased with my reports.' 'Not put off by lack of enthusiasm?' 'No,' she answered a little morosely. 'They said that at least I was honest.' He laughed at that. 'True. That's one of your most endearing characteristics. Even if your lips tell lies your eyes give you away, or that incredibly easily aroused blush. So you're definitely going to do as Penny suggests?'

It seemed a heaven-sent opportunity to make it quite clear that even though she might have been foolish enough to fall in love with him she was not going to let such an adolescent emotion stand in the way of her life. He should see that she was not going to moon over him like that revolting Thora Bradley! 'Yes,' she said crisply. 'Quite definitely.' And felt forlorn as though someone had torn the heart from her body and thrown it into an abyss. 'Well, so that's that,' he said softly, as if to himself, and switched the radio on. 'Do you mind? The test match has reached a rather interesting stage. They must be about to start.' Janey was interested in cricket too, especially a test match between England and New Zealand when she felt her dual heritage keenly, wanting both sides to win, hut she felt that in some way Theo was using the radio as a defence, or a barrier which shut her off from him. But at least, she thought as the commentator's urbane voice filled the car, he must know now that she was fighting the love he had aroused in her. He would not be able to compare her with Thora Bradley who no doubt signified her love for him in the most basic of ways after they had dined last night! The picture this aroused in her mind filled her with such anguish that she stared resolutely out into the sundrenched-landscape and concentrated on the cricket with a determination which deserved a better cause.

Within a week the College had written to notify her of their acceptance of her application, and as the tutorial year began in ten days' time things began to get hectic. The incredible weather still held. The big red water tanker became a common sight as it laboured up the hill with water for those whose supplies had failed. One stream ran dry when

orchardists and market gardeners made too great a call on its capacity; there was a public meeting and even the holidaymakers began to look a little perturbed. Sam came over to see Janey, filled with enthusiasm at . her decision. One long hot evening as the stars twinkled like diamonds on purple velvet and the sky was still green in the west they sat talking, Sam promising to see a lot of her when 'varsity started again. Janey looked at the lighted porthole of Toroa and answered him as best she could. 'You'll get homesick,' he said at last. 'We all do, but home is always here, Janey. And with Penny and me down there it won't be quite so bad.' 'No, I guess not,' she answered softly. 'I don't want to go, Sam.' 'Nobody does, idiot girl. A funny place, this Awakopu. Just a little backwater, a few shops, a few orchards, market gardens and farms, an estuary and some beaches, gum trees and casuarinas and seagulls, and yet it has a spell that never leaves us. What is it, Janey?' 'A kind of marae of the heart,' Janey said softly. 'A resting place. A home place. It weaves itself into the very fibre of our lives. When you're away what makes you think of Awakopu, Sam?' 'A eucalyptus tree against a blue sky,' he said promptly. 'Big he-man Sam has been known to cough vigorously several times when gum trees show up silhouetted against the sky. What about you?' 'A very still night and a dog barking over a hill.' He chuckled companionably and squeezed her hand. 'Well, you shouldn't be able to indulge in too many orgies of homesickness when you're in the big smoke because there you can't hear dogs for the noise of traffic. I'll tell you one thing, though. Sometimes when the wind is from the sea you get a strong tang of salt in the air. That sort of chokes things up a bit.'

'Can you smell it above the tang of petrol?' Janey's voice was light and casual, almost as if nothing mattered any more. She was being borne along by a current too Strong to resist, away from Theo, away from Awakopu and her family, away from the freedom and innocence of childhood. It was no use trying to recapture any of it. The Sam who was now tracing a line in the palm of her hand was not the Sam of a year ago and if she saw anything of him in Auckland he would demand more of her than friendship. Salt tears scalded her eyes. She felt the weight of all the dull, homesick, longing years in her chest, blocking her throat as the realisation of just how empty it was going to be without Theo struck her. While Toroa was in the basin and she was at home she had at least the illusion of closeness, but all too soon even that illusion would-be gone. A surging need for him almost smothered her; she did not want his caresses or his lovemaking, but the knowledge of him, the incredible dearness of him. Sam must have heard her tiny sob. 'Hey,' he said softly, putting his arm around her shoulder to draw her close to him. 'Homesickness strikes when you've left home, silly girl. Come on inside or your mother will think I've been upsetting you.'

CHAPTER EIGHT 'Now, Janey, don't be silly,' said Joy, impatiently for her. 'We gave Penny a party to say goodbye when she set off for 'varsity and we're going to do the same for you.' Whether you want it or not, her tone implied. 'What kind of party do you prefer?' Janey capitulated. Her mother was looking pale with the heat, but her daughter's desire to save her work had not been well received. 'Very well, Mum. How about a barbecue?' 'Lovely, dear; now you go away and make out a list of people you want to invite. About twenty or so. Well have swimming and the barbecue, and then if you want to you can dance in the pool room.' 'O.K.,' Janey said amiably, adding with a rather twisted smile, 'But don't wear yourself out doing too much, Mum. Chops and sausages are all we need.' 'Get away with you!' Joy retorted in lofty tones. 'Chops and sausages indeed! We can do much better than that, you silly girl. Go and make that list.' Janey trailed away into the dimness of her bedroom. Partying was the last thing she felt like doing, but it appeared that her mother had set her heart on some small happening to mark Janey's departure from home. One week to go. Without volition her gaze strayed to the windows. There was Toroa, sleek and graceful against the green waters of the basin. Theo had been busy these last days; often, unable to sleep, Janey had looked down at the circle of light and wondered why he had to write so late at night. He had been up once for dinner and had looked tired, his splendid vitality dimmed.*' There had been lines around his eyes, those mocking, speculative, aloof eyes which had met hers with

a complete lack of emotion as though she was a part of his past, of no relevance to the present. Immeasurably hurt, Janey had retreated behind her usual mask of reserve, and watched Penny behave as naturally as though he had never kissed her or made her cry. Theo's glance had gleamed with appreciation and what appeared to be respect, so Penny had been right. He had known exactly what he was doing and she had won his respect by her uncomplaining acceptance of his rules. Lucky Penny! Well, it was nearly over now. She supposed she should be thankful that he had let her down so lightly. Perhaps she would -be when this ache had ceased being a permanent par? of her heart and her love had faded into a dim, lavender-strewn memory. Occasionally she wondered if she was doomed to love him for ever, to take second best if she wished to marry and have children, to have to thrust his memory forcibly from her so that she didn't make' comparisons, and the thought filled her with horror. But wishing that she was more like Penny wasn't going to help matters. Once or twice, in the small hours of the morning Janey thought Theo's experience could be seen in the way he had handled them both. For Penny the quick, clean break, for Janey no recognition of her emotions, a kindly refusal to let her involve herself with him. He must have seen the danger signals that day at Sandy Bay, for his withdrawal had begun then. Her heart had been in her eyes, betraying her, even though she had not herself known what emotion it was which held her in thrall. And so he had proceeded to disentangle himself from the situation, and who could blame him? Certainly not Janey, who thought she knew him well enough to be quite certain that such gentleness was not entirely in character. For a moment she allowed herself to dwell on that fact. Could it be that somehow she had impinged on him? Then common sense came to her aid. It was stupid and futile to spend her

time in daydreaming. Even if Theo had found some small affection for her within himself he would be the first to see that it would never do, for apart from sexual attraction what on earth could a worldly, clever man like him have in common with an adolescent who had not even beauty to recommend her? If Penny had been unable to make any impression on him there was no hope for Janey at all. Lazily drawing a sheet of scrap paper towards her, she begun to make her list. The next day dawned hotter than any they had experienced so far, so Paul announced when he took the first of his temperature readings. 'Something must be going to happen,' he said, tapping the barometer. 'Look, it's fallen quite dramatically since yesterday. I wonder if there's a tropical storm on its way?' 'If it brings rain with it I would welcome it,' joy said quietly. 'Lord, but it's hot! I think this has been the most trying summer I've ever endured.' 'The trouble is that you don't really expect weeks and weeks of drought,' Penny put in knowledgeably. 'Let's face it, Northland is subtropical, so the summers are lovely and warm, but they're not usually so hot or so dry as this one has been.' Ian looked up from the newspaper. 'It says here that this is a thirty-year drought. I must confess I shouldn't like to endure another one like it. I hate to think where the water table is. Did you know that the Martins' bore has run dry? Jim Martin told me yesterday that he's had to truck in water for the house, but as he's no reservoir the orchard will just have to look after itself.' Janey got up and wandered over to the window, infected with a curious restlessness, which pervaded her bones. Perhaps it was the tropical

storm, if there was one, but she wanted to stretch and run and indulge in violent activity: Shai seemed to feel the same. With a ringing call she leapt from Penny's lap on to the floor, startling them all with the wildness of her blue eyes. 'I wonder if she wants some fish,' Joy mused. 'She's been behaving very oddly lately. Oh, Paul dear, you can't have grown out of those shorts already!' 'Well, I have.' He grinned with complete lack of repentance. I can't help growing, Mum.' 'You'll end up well over six feet,' Joy told him. 'Not, I hope, too soon.' 'Couple of chaps in my form are there already. Where are you going, Janey?' 'I'll go down and see if I can catch something for Shai.' 'O.K., I'll come with you.' He gave proof of his rapid attainment of maturity by a grin and the comment, 'That big blue ketch next to Toroa has two of the nicest little water-babies I've ever seen.' Penny laughed, her mother looked scandalised and Ian apparently did not hear* although Janey was almost certain that his lips twitched before folding firmly into a straight line. He said merely, 'That scarlet lily of yours is out, Joy, the big one behind the Montezuma rose. You'll have to move one or the other. The colours clash violently…' Neither brother nor sister said anything as they walked down the footpath towards the wharf. During the holidays breakfast tended to be a little later than normal. Today the carnival, as some of the locals termed the holidaymakers, was in full swing. There was laughter and the yells of children, darkly tanned men and their equally brown

women taking on supplies or just stretching their legs after long days spent at sea. The basin was crowded with craft of all sizes from the large and very opulent to narrow, barely cabined 'mulleties', although there were fewer of these old boats each year. It could have been wishful thinking, but Toroa stood out like a seagull among the ducks, or so it seemed to Janey. Not just to Janey, either. 'She looks businesslike,' Paul commented. 'These others are obviously for pleasure. Toroa is for real.' 'Perhaps because she's a home.' 'Oh, more than that, I think. She's built for blue- water sailing, you can see it in her lines. Ah!' He hauled up the silvery sprat, popped it into the yellow plastic bucket and after re-baiting dropped his hook into the murky green-brown of the river water. They fished silently for some time; because of the constant interference by people rowing ashore and boats moving to and fro the fish were not eager to bite, but between them they managed quite a good haul. Janey had placed herself so that she could not see Toroa unless she turned her head. So of course Theo's voice from behind was a shock, although there had been a prickle of awareness along her nerve ends for some seconds past. He must have been watching them. 'Hi, Theo.' Paul was unashamedly pleased to see him, grinning with the open enthusiasm of the young. 'You've come too late to see the monster. Janey got one about a foot long, but she got so excited she let it go.'

'The one that got away.' Theo's glance sharpened into so piercing a scrutiny that she found it hard to bear, then he smiled and held out a hand to her. 'Come and spend the day with me.' It was madness, of course, sheer and unadulterated madness to take his hand and nod, but that was exactly what she did. 'I'll take your gear home,' Paul offered. Td like to go with you, but this afternoon I'm going surfing. Ill tell Mum where you are, Janey.' 'Thank you.' Janey wished she could say something, wished that she wore a smart green pants suit like the girl who was looking at Theo with such undisguised interest, instead of faded blue denim shorts and rubber thongs, and a white cotton shirt with rolled-up sleeves and its bottom button missing. But Theo did not even look at the girl in the pants suit. He drew Janey down the steps, dank and cool beneath her feet, put her into the runabout and started the engine, then with his usual skill, headed it towards Toroa. 'Come on in,' he invited, when they got there. 'You can make lunch for us.' It was the first time she had been in the cabin and her expression was marked by wonder, for in spite of its compactness there was more than a little luxury. 'Like it?' She nodded, 'It's beautiful, Theo. No wonder you don't need a house.'

There was an odd pause, as though he had almost made up his mind to say something and then changed it, before he said abruptly, 'There's the galley. Take a look in the fridge' and get out what you need.' The refrigerator was powered by electricity, so the boat had a generator. Somewhat chastened by the withdrawal in his voice, Janey took out butter and cheese, found tomatoes and fruit in a small pantry, then rapidly packed them in an insulated bin. Theo dumped in three cans of beer, and with a smile at her, two of lemonade, then said: 'There's more cucumbers and some ham, also cold meat and oranges.' 'Shall I make coffee in this thermos?' 'Hot water, and pack instant coffee; you don't take milk, do you?' 'No.' 'Neither do I.' .When she had finished he hefted the bin and looked speculatively at her. 'You wouldn't be a woman if you didn't want to see over the rest of the place.' 'Is curiosity a characteristic only of women?' He laughed then, a soft satisfied chuckle, and dumped the bin on the table. 'O.K., I'll grant that men have their fair share. Come on!' The main cabin was carpeted and wood-panelled; the portholes were curtained, but it seemed that Theo rarely pulled the minuscule curtains across. Beneath one was a table with a typewriter on it and a box. Janey looked at it, saw that it was taped and wound with string. 'Yes, it's finished,' said Theo, answering her unspoken question. 'I'll get it away later.'

'It must be a relief.' 'It is. But it leaves me empty; drained. Come on. forward.' There was a tiny bathroom, a wet clothes locker and a hanging locker, and further up towards the bow, two pipe berths and a sail locker. And lots of storage space for food on a long voyage. 'Where do you sleep?' she asked. He shrugged slightly. 'In the main cabin. The sofa makes up into a bed.' His closeness was too oppressive. Blindly Janey turned, but he did not move and she had to stop. 'Seen enough?' he mocked. 'Yes.' It was barely above a whisper, but he stepped aside into the bathroom and let her through, and without stopping she went up the steps into the cockpit, drawing deep breaths of the hot sticky air when at last she got there. Her stupidity in agreeing to spend the day with him struck* her like a hammer blow. Closing her eyes for a moment, she fought down rising panic, striving desperately for control. Fortunately he appeared to have things to do below; she could feel Toroa rock slightly as he moved about, and by the time he came up with the bin of food she was once more in full control of herself. Or as much in control of herself as she could be when she was with Theo. Soon she would be in Auckland, and Theo would be a part of her past, and all that she would have of him would be the remembrance of his kisses and today. She decided to make today as perfect as possible, a golden memory to treasure when this summer was gone.

They slipped quietly downstream, saying little, and that only banalities. A cautious, singing gladness ran like wildfire through Janey's veins when she realised that Theo was taking her to the small bay where they had spent their happy afternoon, the rose-pink, halfmoon of sand where pohutukawas had created a crimson carpet and the bush rose protectively behind. Here she had told him about her fancy of fitting a house into a landscape she loved and he had dazzled her with stories of his voyages just as Othello had won Desdemona with tales of his exploits in the wars. It was there that she had first realised that Theo was beginning to make an impression on her heart. It had been an afternoon snatched from time; it seemed that Theo wanted to recapture the delight as much as she did, for when she smiled her slow smile of pleasure he touched her cheek and said nothing, although the shrewd glance which accompanied the caress was understanding. It had been too early for the cicadas before Christmas, but now they shrilled their tiny zithers from every branch of every tree, almost deafening Janey until her ears became accustomed to the sound and relegated it to the background. 'It's beautiful,' she said softly as they waded ashore. If I were the Matthews and I owned the place, I'd be here every day. It's just enchanting.' As if to set a seal on enchantment on the day a tui called, high in the hill at the back, the notes belling out over the bay, and a woodpigeon flew across from one ancient pohutukawa to another, its plump white breast gleaming in the sunlight. It's a long way from the homestead.' Theo returned, spreading a rug out on the grass. 'And they have a beautiful bay at their doorstep. I don't suppose they ever bother with this place.'

'Probably not.' She sat down on the rug, suddenly^ shy and wary. But the enchantment held. Within a few minutes he had put her completely at ease, and she was laughing at a joke he had cracked. She forgot that he had made love to Penny and Phyl Talbot, forgot everything but her pleasure at being with him. They argued cheerfully, walked around one of the. headlands and found a cave which was dirty and smelt very strongly of penguins. Then they explored between the flax bushes on the little plain behind the beach, and made their way beside the creek to find its source, a spring in a tiny valley where the trees were thick and old. On their way back Theo asked casually, 'Have you finished your house yet?' 'My house?' Bewildered, Janey stared at him, then remembrance flooded back as she met the teasing laughter in his eyes. 'Oh, that house! No, not yet. But I did decide that the living room should go here. That way you'd get a glorious view of the sea without having to lop any branches off the pohutukawas.' 'Ah,' he objected gravely, 'but I'm almost certain that this place floods in winter. Look at the rushes.' She defended her choice with enthusiasm; an hour later saw them still wrangling cheerfully over the placing of a study. 'A study is not a necessity,' Janey said provocatively. 'Dad does quite well without one. A study is old- fashioned and ostentatious.' 'There speaks a Women's Libber!' he retorted swiftly. 'You hate to think that a man might need to be alone sometimes. Come on now, admit it.'

Janey felt his hand on her shoulder and turned, laughing, to push him away. There was a moment of tension so stark that it drove the breath from her lungs, but before she could say anything Theo stepped back, his expression shuttered, and said coolly, 'So I insist on a study, Jane, whether you think it necessary or not. Hungry?' Shaken by this reminder that beneath the light- hearted banter there were other, deeper and more primitive emotions, she could only nod. But he made it easy for her to recover her equilibrium, perhaps because he felt nothing so earth-shaking himself. After lunch she felt sleepy. Theo lay on his back with his hands clasped behind his head and his eyes closed against the heat of the sun. Perhaps he slept. Certainly Janey did. When she awoke it was well into the afternoon and the weather was showing signs of deterioration. It was still breathlessly hot, but from the north clouds had come down, moving slowly but inexorably, and over the land and sea lay the eerie green light which presaged a thunderstorm. Janey lay still for a long time, resisting the urge to get to her feet. Once she was awake Theo, always practical, would decide to go, and she didn't want to leave this place. But the increasing heat sent rivulets of sweat down her back and between her breasts and at last she rolled over and sat up. 'You look a very hot Sleeping Beauty,' he said lightly. He was lying in exactly the same position, but his eyes were open, fixed on her with what seemed to be hungry intensity.

Obviously all after-effect of sleep was a tendency to hallucinate, Janey thought wryly. Aloud she said, 'It's impossible! Do you think it's going to rain, Theo?' 'Probably, although whether we'll get it is a moot point. It will be a thunderstorm, and you know how erratic they are. If you're so hot why don't you go for a swim? We have time. That cloud isn't moving very fast.' She frowned. 'I didn't bring anything to swim in, blast it.' His glance mocked her. 'Strip off and go in without clothes,' he said, a smile twisting the compressed line of his lips. 'No, thank you.' Janey knew she sounded prim, but as she ducked her head to avoid his glance she felt extremely gauche and naive. After all, plenty of people bathed in the nude, even sunbathed in the nude, and no doubt Theo considered it a perfectly normal and natural way of behaving, remembering as he must those island beauties who thought bathing suits a distinct waste of time! 'Jane,' he said, rolling over to possess himself of her hands. 'Jane, do you trust me?' Her glance wavered, was captured by his and held. For a long moment she stared at him, the lean contours of his face filling her eyes to the exclusion of all else. The scar above his brow gleamed bone-white in the odd, oppressive light, and on his cruel mouth there was a set, steady smile. 'Yes,' she whispered. 'Then you know I won't harm you.'

'Yes.' 'Good.' He released her hands and stood up, towering above her as she knelt on the rug, cold and frightened yet filled with an exultation which seemed groundless but had permeated her whole being. 'I've brought a suit,' he said. If you like to take your clothes off under the trees I promise not to look until you're in the water.' So she took off her clothes in the shade of one of the pohutukawas, hanging them neatly from well-placed twigs, and ran down to the water. Although it was warm, in comparison to the sticky humidity of the air it felt cool against her skin. Theo swam some distance away from her. At first this pleased her, but after ten minutes or so she was horrified to discover that her most prominent emotion was chagrin that he should treat her so chivalrously. It was incredible that she should have hoped he would make some recognition of the fact that she was naked, but apparently she had! And a vigorous mental scolding produced no effect but to deepen her anger at herself and at him. At last she called out, 'I'm going in.' *Wait a minute,' he said, and swam towards her with his efficient crawl stroke. Janey trod water and waited, a bubble of anticipation forcing itself into the pit of her stomach. He was smiling as he came up to her, that devilish, set smile which did not alter until his mouth closed over hers and she shut her eyes at the fire in his devouring glance. It was a gentle kiss and when it was over he held her face between his hands and said through lips which barely moved, 'I'm leaving Awakopu tomorrow, Jane. So this is goodbye.'

If he hadn't held her upright she thought she would have sunk beneath the water and never risen again. Instead she looked up into his face, her heart in her eyes, and he took her in his arms again, holding her in a clasp which had nothing of passioti in it in spite of the - fact that they were almost as close as lovers. 'Don't, Jane,' he said roughly. 'Cry or swear at me or kick me—anything but that look of mute despair.' 'I'm sorry,' she managed, lifting to push him away with arms which had remained at her side during the whole incident. 'Let me go, Theo.' Before he did so he looked down into the innocent, tragic heartbreak of her expression and said harshly, 'Had you been ten years older, or I with ten years' less experience, it might have worked, Jane, but not now. 'Love like yours is selfless, but you've given it to the wrong man.' 'How do I know that?' she asked steadily. There was no mirth in his smile, just a savage, frightening intensity. 'You soon would. You don't know what sort of man I am, Jane. I've lost count of the number of women I've made love to, and many of them I've left weeping. A leopard doesn't change his spots. If—if I went mad and took what you offered, if I married you, do you think after the first pleasure in initiating you into the delights of sex had faded that I would remain faithful to you?' 'I don't know,' she said, shaken by the cold condemnation in his tones, 'I don't know, but --' 'I do, believe me. It's better this way; at least I won't have the rape of a schoolgirl on my conscience.' He pushed her away. 'Go on, get ashore and dressed before I tell myself I'm a quixotic fool and toss out the last little bit of chivalry left in me.'

Janey trod water, but he said viciously, 'Move, you fool!' And she did, for there had been enough primitive lust in his expression to thoroughly terrify her. He had left a towel beside her clothes; shivering with reaction, she rubbed herself dry and dragged her clothes over her damp skin. They clung and had to be tugged into place. When she got back to the beach Theo was folding the rug. As she came shyly towards him he pulled the tab from a can of beer, turned his back on her and drank it down in one gulp. The rejection was so blatant that she was racked with pain, but she set her feet steadily into the soft sand. 'We'd better get going,' he said, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. 'That cloud has started to move up quickly.' The cloud had driven away the last vestige of blue sky by the time the runabout reached the wharf in the basin. Over the entire landscape lay that eerie green light, giving the parched hills and lawns a spurious luxuriance. It was very still. Even the ubiquitous cicadas had fallen quiet, and no animal called or stirred. Except Shai, who met them. Calling anxiously from the steps, she surprised Janey by springing on to Theo's shoulder and nibbling his chin, pressing the wedge of her face affectionately against his cheek while her blue eyes blazed. Then she sprang into Janey's arms. 'Goodbye, Jane,' he said quietly, his voice cool and lacking emotion, no expression visible on the carved mask that was his face. 'Goodbye, Theo. Good sailing.' She smiled brightly, a tall thin girl, all legs and arms with sea-lank hair and strange deep golden eyes.

He sketched a mock-salute, pushed the bow off from the piles and pulled the cord of the outboard. The engine sputtered into life. Janey turned, and walked on up the hill, the , quiescent cat huddled in her arms. Once home, she paused outside the kitchen door, from behind which came Penny's voice clear and ringing. 'Of course you have nothing to worry about, Mum. Look—Theo is a mature, sophisticated man. What on earth has Janey got that would appeal to him?' A muffled reply, and Penny's laugh, clear and supremely confident; 'Darling Mother, all men aren't ravening wolves, seeking to devour any virgin who comes their way. Especially not Theo. He likes Janey, that's about all. Apparently she inspires liking—look at Sam. He's absolutely devoted to her, but I'll bet you don't worry about her being with him.' And, after a few moments: 'Mother, I love Janey, and I'd be the last to run her down, but she's still a child. Theo is a man of the world. He likes his women to be sophisticated and beautiful. Look at Phyl Talbot. At the risk of sounding conceited, look at me! Phyl is head over heels in love with him, and I have to keep a pretty tight rein on my heart, or I'd be in the same boat. Theo is a cynic; for him the relations between the sexes comes down to one basic thing, the desire to make love, and the rest is icing. He doesn't believe in love, or fidelity, or even trust, but he's no cad, and he plays fair. What on earth has Janey got that would attract him? I doubt if virginity as such would have any great appeal to a man like him. He probably prefers his sex partners experienced! Janey is a dear, but she has precious little sex appeal and no sophistication. I should say Theo likes her because she so obviously hasn't fallen for him! It must the a refreshing change for him.'

Another murmur and then Penny's reply. 'If she did fall in love with him I'd say he'd treat her as gently as he could. He likes her, Mum. And she likes him. It's as simple as that.' Janey looked gravely down at her interlaced fingers. The discovery that her sister was not always correct made her feel odd in a detached sort of way. Perhaps Penny was indulging in a little bit of wishful thinking when she said that Janey had nothing to attract Theo; perhaps, Janey thought wisely, her sister's heart had been slightly touched. With the taste of Theo's kisses on her mouth and the sound of his thickened voice still in her ears she knew that whatever the reason, Penny could not have been more wrong. Theo found something very attractive indeed in Janey, but he despised himself for feeling it. When she awoke in the morning the Toroa had gone; she was barely able to see through the curtain of rain between the house and the basin, but the emptiness pf the mooring place struck her like a blow over the heart.

There followed the most agonising week of Janey's life, a time of grief so shattering that she dared not give in to it in case it swamped her completely, so she forced herself to manufacture a smooth, smiling shell behind which no one was allowed. It seemed to work. Several times she caught her mother looking rather carefully at her, as if waiting for some signal, but When none was forthcoming Joy made no effort to intrude into her daughter's reserve. They spoke about Theo, of course. Wonderment at first, because he had left so suddenly, but a letter arrived explaining everything. He had been intending to go, he said, but not quite so soon. Something had happened which made it imperative for him to leave without saying goodbye. He had had a hair-raising trip to Auckland, dodging

thunderstorms, but had got there in time. He thanked them for their kindness. And he was theirs with affection, Theo Carrington. If they thought the urgent call away a little thin, nobody said so. The thunderstorms brought rain, inches and inches of it, and for the next two or three days everyone was extremely busy tidying up, and so Janey did not have to suffer the refined torture of hearing surmises about why he had left, or what lay behind the smooth excuse. The grass greened up beautifully, the garden took a deep breath and cautiously set about blooming and growing once more and the weather settled down into the pattern as before, hot days, but with nights which were marginally cooler. Summer was not over, but it had passed its midway point. Janey surprised everyone, not the least herself, by announcing that from here on she would only answer to Jane. Janey, she said, was too childish. 'And Jane is not?' But Penny looked curiously at her. 'You aren't any more, are you? Childish, I mean. You've grown up, Janey—Jane. Very well, I'll call you Jane from now on.' 'Of course, we all will,' Joy agreed, careful not to look too closely at anybody, especially not this younger daughter who had changed so quickly. 'It's a great pity to keep using a pet name after you grow up. I always feel that it stunts one's growth, stops one from becoming truly adult.' 'All my family seems to be growing up,' Ian grumbled. "Young Paul is almost taller than I am. Janey— Jane is going away, Penny has gone. Won't be long before we're a couple of senior citizens with nothing to do but walk the dog, Joy.'

They laughed, but Jane noticed that from now on her father began to treat her with the rather ponderous respect he accorded to Penny; yet another sign of maturity, she supposed. The party and its preparation took up several of the remaining days and gave Janey something to think about as well as something to do. At times she thought that her unhappiness was so intense that she could not carry on, but she was surprised at the dogged courage which she possessed. A kind of fortitude which seemed to come from nowhere. And if the shadows in her eyes deepened, blotting out the gold, no one seemed to notice. It was a very successful party. All her friends enjoyed themselves immensely, as did her family, and when Sam became amorous afterwards she was able to head him off with a skill which left both of them a little bewildered. But after she had gone to bed that night Janey lay awake, thinking over something Karen had told her in strictest confidence, of course. They had been sitting on the wide seat built around the trunk of the silk tree, watching as the guests swam in the light of the Hawaiian flares. It had been the sort of scene which photographers use to illustrate the life of the very rich, Janey thought idly, and yet it was quite common in New Zealand where private swimming pools were very useful, either as a back-up irrigation system, or as a fire-fighting device for those homes which were a long way from a fire station. 'Super party,' Karen said ecstatically. 'I'm going to miss you madly, Jay. Hey, have you heard about Phyl Talbot?' 'No,' Janey said warily, not at all sure that she wanted to. She knew that Theo had been seeing a lot of the girl until he left, and she didn't want to hear anything about the glamorous Phyl, who apparently had more appeal than either of the Bowden sisters.

'Well,' Karen said with relish, 'you know how snooty Mrs Talbot is, all airs and graces because they've got money, although Mum says they're nobody really. The Sutherlands further down the coast at Whangatapu have pots of dough and that huge station, and they aren't snobbish at all. Mum knows Mrs Sutherland through the Garden Circle; she's just had another baby, a little girl.' Janey sighed. If Karen had a fault it was that she was a gossip who liked to drag in every ramification of every subject. Just what the Sutherlands, whom everybody knew because they were one of the old landowning families, had to do with Phyl Talbot, she wasn't quite certain! 'O.K., O.K., I'll keep to the subject.' Karen chuckled. 'Well, apparently Mrs Kirk was out at the Talbots' having coffee when Phyl came over all swimmy and when her mother asked her what the matter was, she said quite calmly, "I'm pregnant." ' Funny how your heart could lurch and then go cold, when common sense told you that absolutely nothing could make it move from its appointed place in your chest. For a moment everything seemed faint and far away, so far away that Janey had to make a desperate clutch at her self-control. If she fainted in front of Karen it would be all over the district within a week, and God knew what conclusions some of the less charitable minds would draw from it. 'A nice way to tell your mother,' she commented. 'With the biggest tale-bearer in Awakopu listening.' Apparently she had managed to infuse her voice with the correct amount of disgust, for Karen raised her eyebrows and nodded wisely. 'Yes. Apparently Mrs Talbot screeched and carried on, and Phyl got quite angry and said, "Oh, Mum, shut up. It's no great deal. All it

means is that the wedding will be a little sooner, that's all;" What do you think of that?' 'I hope—I hope that for the baby's sake the father sees it her way.' Karen nodded, her expression very serious but pleasurably shocked. 'It must be Theo Carrington, of course. You knew him, Janey. Do you think he'll marry her? He didn't seem the type to get a girl into trouble and then leave her flat to me, but he doesn't seem the sort to be trapped into marriage by an old trick like that, either. Do you think that's why he left so quickly?' A cold rage gripped Janey's whole being with an emotion she could not, dared not express. Very carefully she uncurled the fingers of her hand, thinking that a woman's hand could look like claws, fit to rend and tear when the provocation was great enough. 'Well, to start off with, you don't know it was Theo,' she pointed out, keeping her voice as level and free from emotion as she could manage. 'I mean, I'll agree that it looks suspicious, but Phyl didn't say so, and I can tell you something. Theo is quite definitely the sort of man who wouldn't hesitate to have someone up for libel or slander or whatever it is if he heard a rumour like that and it wasn't true.' 'Do you think so?' Karen was frightened by this, just as Janey had intended. Slowly she went on, 'Actually, I think you're probably right. I can just imagine him raking in damages and enjoying the whole process. He struck me as being pretty tough and he has a reputation to consider, being an author, hasn't he? I'll remember that.' So Janey had done what she intended to, stop that . source of gossip, but now, as she lay in her narrow bed staring at the darkened ceiling, she could feel the nausea and pain afresh.

And suddenly it was gone, for she knew, without even thinking about it, that Theo could not behave like that. Why he had continued to see Phyl Janey didn't know, but she did know that it was not in him to play the betrayer. And he had proved that he was too experienced a judge of women not to have recognised that beneath the surface sophistication and worldliness Phyl was just a neurotic girl looking for the affection her parents had never given her. He would not have seduced her or allowed himself to be seduced, so poor Phyl's baby must belong to someone else, perhaps someone she had turned to when she realised that Theo was not a prospect for marriage. It was strange that she should be so confident about this, but she thought that at last she knew him a little, enough to be convinced that he possessed the sort of integrity which would forbid him to use Phyl and then discard her.

CHAPTER NINE So Janey went to Auckland and eventually discovered that life could possess flavour and tang again. Always the sight of a tall blond man made her lurch, but after a while she began to realise that she had suffered some form of imprinting, as the scientists called it. In her eyes the only man she could ever love was Theo Carrington, who seemed to have disappeared off the face of the earth, except for a brief visit to Awakopu to pick up one of his puppies he had rescued from the mud of the yacht basin. 'He looks tired,' her mother wrote, 'but was much the same as ever, and chose the black puppy, the one you liked, to take with him. He called it Simba. I asked him where he was off to and he said he had a fancy to circumnavigate Australia, so I suppose we'll see some sort of book about that.' Janey bought all of his books, but after the first reading she put them away and did not look at them again. It hurt too much to find his personality so vividly revealed on every page with all its complexity and combination of intelligence and ruthlessness. It was better to try and forget him. Business college was fun and hard work. Somewhat to her surprise Janey discovered that she enjoyed her subjects, and she was proud when she graduated head of her class. At about the same time Aunt Catherine decided that her position in the organisation necessitated a secretary. It involved a considerable amount of travelling in the interests of refugee children and as she and Janey had discovered a mutual liking and respect for each other, it was entirely natural that she should offer the job to Janey, who accepted it with delight and some trepidation. It was the sort of position which required far more of her than the ability to use a dictaphone and type neatly. During the next two years

they criss-crossed the world, moving from filthy, earthquake-torn hovels to conventions at super-expensive hotels with a rapidity which at first startled Janey, then became commonplace. She learnt to cope with cholera and appalling injuries, with Continental men-about-town and the heads of Muslim villages who believed that women were made purely for man's pleasure and the procreation of children; learned to enjoy coping with them, furthermore. In this time she ceased to be Janey and learned to think of herself as Jane Bowden. And at last in London she met a man, who said he loved her and wanted to marry her. Because she still carried another man's image engraved on her mind and heart she gave herself a holiday and came back to Awakopu, hoping to exorcise Theo Carrington once and for all. It was not the first visit she had paid there since going away, but it was the first time she had stayed for more than a few days; she was astounded at the differences, and rather saddened by them. 'Not that I expected the place to stand still while I was away,' she explained to her parents as she swung gently in the hammock. 'I just thought the changes wouldn't be so great. I mean—I'm sure you didn't tell me that the road up the coast was sealed I' Joy laughed softly. 'I did, Jane, truly.' 'Well, how about that huge subdivision at Kowhai Hill? I didn't expect that.' 'Pear, I told you that's where Karen and Mark live.' Jane turned a rueful, laughing countenance to her parents. 'So you did,' she marvelled. 'I just didn't visualise it. Oh, it is good to be back! Isn't it perfect weather? You know, there's absolutely nothing like autumn up here. The days are gloriously fine yet just a little crisp; while the

nights are cool enough to sleep well and the stars—the stars are bigger than they are anywhere else in the world. And the hibiscus flowers try to tell you that it's still summer. Oh, it's so good to be back!' 'It's good to have you back,' her father said gruffly. 'I must say, I doubt if I'd have recognised you. Your Aunt Catherine seems to be running some sort of finishing school.' Jane grinned, then ran a casual hand through the sleek red-brown cap of her hair, tousling it into untidiness. 'There, does that look like the old Janey?' she teased. 'All rough and unpolished?' 'Hardly, my dear, but I must say I'm glad you've learned to stand without hunching your shoulders, and you've developed excellent clothes sense.' Joy spoke briskly, perhaps to hide emotion, for almost immediately she added, 'We must have a quiet little get-together of all your friends—at least, those that are still here. I know Karen and Mark would like to come. It's a pity you missed their wedding, Jane; Karen looked lovely, a real spring bride. Still, at least you were able to make it for Penny's. Did you see her on your way through Auckland?' 'Yes; marriage certainly suits her. She's lovelier than ever, isn't she, and her Julian is absolutely besotted with her, in his well-bred fashion.' 'It's nice that they're both lawyers, or that they will be when Penny's finished her degree.' Joy poured herself another cup of tea, swiftly drop-ping a half-scone in Herod's direction. ^ Paul complained bitterly when anyone fed his dog at the table, but Joy could not break herself of the habit, although she always looked guiltily around to make sure that no one noticed. 'Tell me some more of the local gossip,' Jane invited, stretching a long arm out for a ripe peach.

'Nothing much has happened lately,' Joy murmured. 'Phyl and her husband have taken over the Talbots' place; her father had a coronary, poor man, but he's much better now.' 'How are Phyl and her husband getting on?' Jane's voice was elaborately casual, giving the question a throw-away lack of importance, but she strained for the answer. Phyl Talbot had married a month after Jane had left Awakopu, married a local boy in spite of her mother's opposition. 'Very well, now. Of course, there was that nasty gossip about the baby, but you only have to look at him to see that there was no truth in it at all. The child is the spitting image of Dick, and Phyl adores them both. She's become a very good little mother and wife, and I think that for the first time in her life she's really happy.' 'And Mrs Talbot?' Joy laughed comfortably. 'She refused to speak to Phyl until after the baby was born, but grandchildren are great healers of rifts. She's devoted to him and quite determined to give Dick as many legs up the social ladder as are needed for him to become Phyl's equal in station It's rather funny, really, as neither Phyl nor Dick want that sort of life.' 'Well, well, a happy ending to every story,' Jane said lightly, swinging long beautifully tanned legs over the side of the hammock. She was a tall, beautifully tanned girl, sleek and well-groomed in a spectacular peacock blue sundress with gold sandals which made an elegant focal point of her tan. Not local fashion, Joy decided, her fine eyes appreciative as they rested on her daughter's slender figure, but very definitely fashionable, in a sophisticated big-city way.

Jane saw the expression on her mother's face and felt an absurd rush of pleasure. How very juvenile to be pleased that after all these years she should have her mother's admiration, but how satisfying! If her two years in exile had done nothing else for her, if her longing to be worthy of Theo should they ever meet again had had tangible results, it was in the way she looked now. With Catherine's help she had carefully refined her taste, learning how to appreciate fashion with all of its trickery and illusion yet with one basic fact at bottom, the desire to improve on nature. Well, she had done that. Her movements were now graceful, her face could stand comparison with most others, her hair-style was chosen for its chic as well as its ease of care. She didn't need to diet to keep her figure, but self-discipline kept her wand-slim. And her reward? That night, after dinner, she wandered out on to the terrace and stood staring at Orion, high in the sky above, then at the beautiful constellation which marked home for her, Crux Australis, the Southern Cross. Her reward had been greater confidence in herself as a woman, and perhaps, the love of a good man. In London Stuart waited, for she had promised him an answer to his proposal very soon, but she could not marry him when she knew that everything she had done, everything she had become, had been for Theo Carrington. If she cared to she could summon his face to her memory now, so vividly that it would seem as if she had only to turn and he would be beside her. She had come home to exorcise him, but she had been here for three days now and instead of fading into nothingness his image in her heart seemed to be stronger, more deeply engraved. Not for the first time she wondered if she was doomed to spend the rest of her life loving the one man she could not have. And if that was so, if her heart was irrecoverably Theo's, could she marry Stuart and keep faith with him?

Above her as the impartial stars wheeled slowly against the spangled path of the Milky Way and the dark blue of the sky she came to a decision. Tomorrow she would take their runabout and go alone down to the tiny bay where she had built her dream home and Theo had told her that if he had not loved so many other women he might have loved her, and there she would make her final decision. Her life with Catherine had taught her to sleep soundly whenever she got the chance, so she wasted no time in' wakefulness after making her decision, but it was with some trepidation that she set off down-river the next morning. Perhaps she would find that the bush had been cut down, or the place had beep cut up for sections—or somehow desecrated. Anything could have happened to the bay in two long years. So it was with some relief that she rounded the last curve in the river, picked out the patch of bush which marked the little cove and could see no signs of change. It was not until she was half way across the inlet that she realised with a shock of dismay that someone had built there, built a large house underneath the pohutukawa trees. Sudden scalding tears filled her eyes. With an angry gesture she pulled the tiller to turn the runabout away, but on an impulse jerked it back again and cut the motor, before pulling her father's binoculars out from their ease and putting them to her eyes. The house was long and low, built of stained wood with large areas of glass looking out over the rose-pink sands of the cove. From it a road ran back, skirting the trees and disappearing behind the headland, and to one side of the bay there was a wharf, not very big, but big enough to cope with a large launch. An upturned dinghy rested against the trunk of one of the pohutukawas, a fishing net was draped over another; two upright oars leant against a gnarled trunk. From the front of the house great sliding glass doors opened out on to a terrace of

sawn sandstone; there were already low green plants between them softening the starkness. Very slowly Jane put the glasses down, took one of the oars and standing, sculled the runabout in to the beach. It was. very new, barely finished, for the thyme plants between the flagstones were still tiny, although some of them were flowering, tiny pink, lilac or purple flowers held above the aromatic green and silver leaves. The pleasant, astringent scent rose on the warm air as she trod silently across the terrace and in through the open sliding glass door. It beckoned, it welcomed, it was her own house, exactly as she had planned it that long ago day in high summer before they had said farewell to each other. Nothing had been altered. There was very little furniture, for her imagination had not been able to encompass more than the building. What little there was was beautiful; a Chinese lacquer screen, and on a low black table under a window a white porcelain Kuan-Yin. Jane smiled as her fingers caressed the smooth, cool porcelain. The Chinese Goddess of Mercy smiled benignly back at her and Jane found herself recalling an occasion when he had spoken of his love of things Chinese. How callow she had been that summer, and yet she had loved Theo with all of the fervour of the very young. Her love had not faded, had not perhaps even grown; it had altered and deepened, but that first realisation of love had been as irrevocable as birth and death. Foolish to think that two years' absence had made any difference to her emotions. She realised that all along she had known that she could not marry Stuart. He would be disappointed but not, she thought, broken-hearted. Almost nothing in the house came as a surprise to her. It was beautiful, her vision translated by a master into a dream of perfection and as familiar to her as her own hands. In winter it would be warm and snug,

as comfortably able to cope with the rain and cold of that season as it was coping with the heat of this day. Nothing had been stinted. Theo was rich, of course, he now had six best-sellers to his credit, but she had not realised just how rich he was, for as she moved through the house she saw more and more evidences of his wealth, even to the exquisite ikon she had insisted should go in a niche in one of the rooms. He had remembered everything, she thought painfully, avoiding the calm assurance of the Virgin's eyes, everything! His writer's memory—or the eyes of love? And suddenly it was imperative that she see him. Her feet making no sound on the tiles, she, sped down the wide hall to the door which hid the study he had insisted on putting into her plan. And there she met the one thing her vision had not stipulated in the form of a black dog, twin brother to Paul's Herod, stretched protectively out across the doorway, his noble head sunk apparently in sleep on his great paws. 'Simba?' Uncertainly she approached, for there was something inimical about the brown eye which was fixed firmly on her. He lifted his head, yawned and stood up. And barked twice. There was a moment when she and the dog stood looking at each other, then the door behind it was flung open and Theo stood looking at her. He was thinner, a little older-looking, with lines around his eyes and mouth as though he had spent a lot of his time exercising self-control, but the grey- green depths of his eyes caught fire as his glance swept over her, just as they had the night he had left her. He said thickly, 'Jane then hauled her over the astonished Simba and into his arms as if he would never let her go. For long moments he held

her crushed to him; Jane savoured the pain of his strength, far sweeter than pleasure given by anyone else. Then he said in a curious, choked voice, 'I'm sorry. Am I hurting you?' . 'No. You couldn't hurt me,' she told him lovingly, all the worry and wondering over at last, 'but if you loosened' up a bit I could—Ah, that's better.' One hand touched his cheek, was caught and held palm against his mouth. 'Dear God,' he said after a moment, 'I'd just about given up hope. You graceless wretch, you certainly took your time, and put me through hell in the process.' 'Me? Oh, you—you --' Words failed her, so she smiled mistily and kissed his chin. 'You were the one who sailed away, leaving me bereft, remember? And never a letter, not even a postcard. Just who is the graceless wretch?' He looked into her face as if he could see only that, as if he had lain awake for long, lonely nights recalling every detail of her features. A half-smile tugged at the hard line of his mouth as he bent his head and smothered whatever else she had been going to say in a kiss which wiped out the long separation as if it had never been. Beneath her fingertips Jane could feel his heart thumping like an erratic piston; it was only then, with the force of it driving into her body, that she was really convinced that he did love her. Certainly he seemed determined to prove to her by his actions just what his feelings were. As he swept her up in his arms and carried her across the room to a long leather sofa Jane heard a tiny warning bell ring somewhere, but she ignored it. He was Theo and she was his completely and she did not care. If he wanted to make her his then and

there she was not going to stop him, for as he wooed her with hands and mouth and an urgent need which was all the stronger for having been controlled strictly for so long, she felt her own control slip silently away, lost in a haze of desire where he was the only reality. But after a time he held her face between his hands, and kissed her mouth firmly but briefly. 'Stop seducing me, Jane. Now is neither the time nor the place.' 'O.K.,' she murmured obediently, but when she began to button up her blouse he grinned and cupped her breasts with a lover's hand, dropping a swift kiss in the hollow between them. 'I like you like that,' he said, then as the banked flames began to flare again, 'No, make yourself decent, or I'll succumb to temptation and put you in a position where you'll have to marry me to save your good name!' The colour washed across her cheeks, but she asked without diffidence, 'Do you want to marry me, Theo? Really?' 'Oh yes.' His fingers tightened against her ribs, hurting her. Wincing, she moved his hand and held it against her heart, letting the thud of it show him without words how much she loved him. 'Sorry,' he said harshly. 'I can promise you I won't be a wife-beater, but for God's sake do those buttons up.' As he spoke he got up from the sofa to leave her sprawled across it, his eyes mocking the fact that beneath his gaze her fingers turned into thumbs. 'Hurry up,' he said with familiar arrogance. 'I'm not made of stone, and I've waited too long to have you in my power.' He leered unconvincingly down at her.

Jane laughed, but she was glad when he strode across the room to stare out of the window, for. she was then able to straighten her clothes. Never before, not even in her wildest imaginings, had she realised the power desire could wield. It thrilled her that her passion was equal to his, but for both their sakes, she thought mischievously, their collective self-control had better not be put to the test too often! His touch drove her to a madness of longing which only complete union could satisfy. Of course she had come to meet him. Subconsciously she had always known that. Her love had been so strong that it must have been based on a subconscious knowledge that Theo returned it. And that was why poor Stuart waited forlornly for her answer back in London. Jane could not feel too sorry for him. He was not really in love with her, she knew, and it would be his pride which was hurt by her refusal. Not too badly hurt, she hoped; at the moment she wished the whole world to be as happy as she was herself. But there were a few things to be cleared up first. As she approached Theo's uncompromising silhouette in, the window she asked, 'Why did you leave me so brutally, Theo? You must have known I was head over heels in love with you within a few weeks of that first meeting.' .He slipped his arm across her shoulders, answering in his driest voice, 'Of course I knew, probably even before you did, my darling. You terrified the life out of me.' 'Terrified you?' She began to laugh, and then saw to her shock that he had been speaking the truth. 'Come on now, Theo! How could I terrify you? All of the advantage was yours.' 'Oh, was it? I fell in love with you, idiot, and quite frankly, for the first time in my life I wasn't in control of the situation—an unpleasant feeling, believe you me. I knew what I should do, which was to get the

hell out of there and leave you alone, but I didn't know whether I had the guts to do it and bear the torment.' 'But why?' she asked, troubled by her lack of comprehension. *Why did you have to go? We could have been married for—well at least a year. I suppose Mum and Dad would have insisted we wait awhile, as I was so young. Instead, it's as though we've wasted these last years.' 'We?' Theo asked wryly, turning to take her shoulders in a grip which was strong enough to hold her away from him. His eyes were very clear and perceptive as they took in the bewilderment which made her glance a golden turbulence. 'My darling, I wasted a couple of years, perhaps. You didn't. You went away and grew up.' 'Was that it? That I was too young, too immature?' 'Partly. Jane, you were a baby, a schoolgirl who had no idea of what was happening to her. I wanted you— God, I wanted you, and I loved you, but I wanted more from you than a girl's adolescent crush on the first personable male she'd met. Do you understand?' In his insistence, a kind of suppressed anger of impatience to have her comprehend, his fingers bit deeply into her shoulders. Jane nodded. He had been so much wiser-than she, had loved her enough to leave and take the consequences, whatever they might have been. Perhaps he had known her well enough to be almost sure that she would return to him, but he could not have been entirely certain, yet he had let her go. He must have misunderstood her tears, for he muttered an oath and pulled her against him, saying violently, 'I'm sorry, darling. I can't seem to help hurting you, but at least when we're married I'll be able to kiss you better. I did what I thought was best for you, and if it was unnecessarily brutal I'm sorry.'

'Oh no,' she muttered, sniffing inelegantly. 'Oh no, I'm just so thankful that you were so—so damned selfish! At least I probably will be thankful, when I get more used to the idea of being loved by you.' He laughed at that, tenderly, and mapped her eyes and kissed them shut, then said in her ear, 'I did give you an out. On that trip down to Auckland, when you went for your interview. If you'd seemed unhappy or undecided at the idea I would have asked you to marry me then. But you were quite determined to go ahead with it, and I'm glad now. I would always have wondered if I'd been unfair to you. Cradle-snatching has always seemed a game not worth the candle to me.' Jane nodded, remembering so well the probing questions he had asked, the way he had forced her into a corner, so that she had defended her decision to gQ to the College with more passion than she had felt. He had, of course, done the right thing, but oh, if only she had known just how close she was then to being his wife! 'Do you think you could bear to live with someone as cold and calculating as me?' he asked softly. 'Oh—Theo!' She chose the best way of all to reassure him, holding him tightly in her strong young arms as she pressed swift kisses over the deeply engraved frown lines of his forehead. 'I do love you,' she whispered against his skin. 'And even though I think you're to<> noble by far, I'll forgive you for these past years.' 'Noble?' He held her face in his hands, staring deeply into her eyes as if trying to see into her soul. 'That's another thing. You know something of my life before I met you, the kind of life I led. I don't know if Penny told you anything, but she made it quite clear to me that it was my reputation which attracted her. You're not like her, I know. Does it repel you?'

Jane bit her lip, aware that she must convince him of her disregard for his past now before they went any further into this voyage of mutual discovery which was their life together. 'No, it doesn't repel me. I don't like to think of—of how you gained your experience. But it all happened before you knew, me, which means that those other women made you, in part, the man I love. So I can thank them, I suppose.' She laughed softly. 'Oh, Theo, you make me absolutely shameless. I love you. I don't care if you slept with a million other women before you met me, provided you don't do it any more!' He smiled at that, but there was no mirth in it. 'You make things too easy for me, but since I met you there's been no other woman. I can promise --' 'No, no promises,' she interrupted swiftly, superstitiously. 'I don't want you to feel bound to me.' 'No?' He straightened up, looking down at her with the old mockery and amusement. 'You still don't believe that I love you, do you ? I am bound to you, heart of my heart, just as you are bound to me by ties far stronger than a promise, or an exchange of vows, important though they may be. When I saw you that first time looking down into the cockpit of the Toroa, guilty and worried about what Shai was up to, my health found its other half.' 'Oh!' she exclaimed, entranced. 'Oh, that's lovely. Darling, darling Theo, I'm so glad. I love you quite desperately and I've forgiven you for leaving me. Now, kiss me, please.' 'Shameless is exactly the word,' he murmured, before his mouth crushed hers beneath it and all of her resolutions went flying at the passion his kiss unleashed.

This time it was Simba who brought them back to reality by butting Jane's leg with his head, obviously feeling more than a little jealous at being ignored for so long. Theo laughed softly, triumphantly at his love's flushed face and crimson lips, the hair tumbled from its usual sleekness by his fingers, the long sweep of throat blushing faintly under the possessiveness of his glance. 'Mmm, I could keep you here all day,' he said teasingly, 'but Simba is right. Come and be introduced to your house.' But before he took her on a tour he smoothed back the flyaway tendrils of hair from her face, swiftly kissing the tip of her nose as he did so. 'I hope I got it right.' It was perfect, exactly as she had planned it, even down to the colour scheme in the kitchen, green and gold and apricot, with a big marmalade tabby sleeping in a patch of sunlight on the green vinyl floor. 'How did you remember?' she asked wonderingly. He shrugged. 'I remember everything you ever said to me. I told the architect what I wanted and he produced this.' 'Between you, you've made a wonderful job of it,' she said quietly. 'When I saw the house I knew that the nightmare was over and that you did love me. Did you know I was coming back?' He grinned. 'If you hadn't appeared within the next month I was going to track you down and bring you back. I've kept a fairly good eye on you.' 'How?'

'Your Aunt Catherine.' 'Oh!' As he got champagne from the huge refrigerator and poured it into tall glasses Jane realised that she had been manoeuvred into this trip home, tactfully and subtly urged into the visit. And she had not had the faintest idea of what was going on. 'How very cunning of you both,' she said, accepting the glass. 'And Mum?' 'Oh, I asked your father for your hand about six months ago, after I'd finished the house.' He grinned into her outraged face and touched his glass to the rim of hers. 'Drink up, darling. You didn't have a hope against us all, you know. You could call it a family conspiracy.' One thing remained to be settled now, before she could join him in a toast to their future together. Looking into the bubbles as they burst in the clear amber liquid, she asked soberly, 'What about Penny, Theo?' 'Penny?' 'Yes.' She looked up at him steadily, and knew that she would never tire of looking at him, but those kisses he had exchanged with Penny still grated, a flaw in the otherwise^ perfect fabric of her happiness. He didn't pretend to misunderstand her. 'She thought I might be an interesting feather in her cap, and she was so spoiled that she could have made a damned nuisance of herself.' His voice was cool and quite casual, but the glance which rested on Jane's downturned face was needle-sharp. 'Did you have to make love to her?' To her complete chagrin there was a wobble in her voice, but she ignored it. 'You hurt her badly.'

'Jane, she would never have taken no for an answer. Too many easy conquests had convinced her that she only had to flutter her lashes and any -male would fall like a ripe plum. If I'd ignored her she would have made even more blatant advances, which would have "been embarrassing for everyone. Apart from anything else I didn't want any more complications.' 'So you used her quite brutally.' He shrugged, keeping a good distance between them. Tm not a gentle person. There might have been a kinder way of dealing with her; I didn't have the time, and quite frankly, I couldn't be bothered. I'd realised that I was in love with you and I was sweating blood trying to work out what to do. Nothing else mattered but you.' Jane nodded, aware of what he was saying. Theo. was not exactly a lover of mankind. For most of his fellow humans he had a cynical contempt which was founded on his early experience so that he would never share her outlook. But his indifference towards the greater part of humanity did not extend to her. She had only to look at him to see his love written plain in his expression—or as plainly as those masked features would ever allow. Smiling wryly, she held her glass up, touched the rimw of his and then drank. 'That's the last ghost laid,' she said. 'Good.' But his expression was still watchful, carefully giying nothing away. 'Actually! when you appeared around the corner of the house and looked so horror-stricken, I could quite easily have cut my throat —and yours,' he admitted. 'I realised then that I was caught and that the situation was impossible.' 'Is that why you were so horrid?'

He looked amused. 'I don't remember being horrid at all. I thought I behaved with immense self-control, not even trying to coax you into falling in love with me when all I wanted was to drag you off into the first convenient bed and make wild and passionate love to you for ever after.' He drained half the champagne in his glass, took hers from her and set them both side by side on the tiled bench. 'I have every intention of doing just that as soon as I can get a licence-to marry you,' he said, and took her purposefully in his arms. Before she gave herself up to the delicious enchantment of the senses which he wove around her, Jane thought that she did not deserve such unselfish love. Theo had loved her enough to leave her, aware that he could perhaps be saying goodbye to her for ever. It would have been quite easy for him to have wooed and married her; Ian and Joy might have protested about her youth and inexperience, but they would have given in. Few people could stand up to Theo, certainly not her parents. Lost in her romantic imaginings, she had thought his departure a betrayal; now she realised that he had sacrificed an almost certain chance of happiness because he had wanted her to be as sure as he was of their ultimate commitment to each other. He had been right, of course. Two years had tested and proved her love, and she knew now that she was mature enough to give him the complete trust he demanded. He was no knight in shining armour, but Theo, who could be cruel and who was then sarcastic, whose temper was uncertain at times and who had little liking for fools or the self- deluded. He was wedded to his typewriter, and she must learn not to think of that instrument as a rival, for her life would be unbearable if she did not accept him just as he was, someone who looked like the handsome blond prince of all the fairytales but who could behave like the angel of darkness. Penny, who had wanted him, had called him a subtle, dangerous man. Intelligent though she was, Jane knew that her older sister had not realised the full complexity of his character, for he had given her

nothing but a few kisses, denying her any other closeness but the physical and that only for a few minutes. And yet this man loved her, had plotted and planned to win her, Jane Bowden, who was open and transparent and not terribly clever, whose only qualification to be his wife was that she loved him with every fibre of her being! 'Well ?' Theo asked gravely. On tiptoe, she kissed his cheek. 'Everything is fine.' 'Good, because there's no turning back now. If you left me I'd follow you to the ends of the earth.' Astonished by this open statement of his vulnerability, she looked up, saw a kind of pain in his eyes and could not breathe for the wonder of this revelation. By showing her that he needed her he was laying himself open to pain and hurt, and it was this final commitment which brought a sparkle of sheer delight to warm the golden amber of her eyes. 'Even our fights will be fun,' she said, fiercely hugging him to her with all of her strength. He gave a great shout of laughter and kissed her, then said, 'O.K., sweet, let's get going. We'll tell your parents, and the next time you come back home it will be as my wife.' 'Home,' she said quietly. 'Next to Theo that's the nicest word in the language.' 'I don't entirely agree.'

When she stopped on the terrace for a moment shading her eyes before going across the grass into the shade of the pohutukawas he gave a lock of her hair a sharp tug, 'Come on, my darling. We've all our lives ahead of us.' Hand in hand they walked through the soft shade and out into the glare of the sunlight, and Jane knew that she was, indeed, home.