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  Taking off her wrapper to reveal her slenderness in a tan-coloured slip which matched her colouring, she reached for the lemon shirt and navy skirt she had laid out on the bed. ‘I suppose you’re wondering why Mrs. Tarrant should be sending a message to me.’

  Laura shook her head. ‘Not exactly. Simon told me you’d met her at the dance last week.’

  ‘Oh, I see.’ Sophie stepped into her skirt and zipped it up. ‘I suppose he also told you that she’d offered me a job.’

  ‘He did. But he wasn’t enthusiastic. Are you?’

  Sophie slipped her arms into the sleeves of her blouse. ‘I’m not sure.’

  ‘What do you mean?’

  ‘I don’t know.’ Sophie shrugged, buttoning her blouse with automatic fingers. ‘It’s appealing—working in Greece, I mean. But I don’t know whether I want to go away again. I’ve only just come home.’

  Laura compressed her lips. ‘It’s a wonderful opportunity.’

  For what?

  For an awful moment Sophie thought she had said the words aloud. But one look at her stepmother’s face assured her that she hadn’t.

  ‘Yes,’ she murmured, turning away to run the brush through her hair once more. ‘Do I look all right?’

  Laura hid her impatience. ‘You look pale. But it suits you. Besides, you’re not interested in impressing John Meredith, are you?’

  Sophie waited for Laura to open the door. ‘Where is he?’

  ‘In the lounge. I’ll get Mrs. Forrest to bring you some coffee. You’ve had no breakfast again.’

  ‘I’m not hungry. But some coffee would be lovely.’

  Sophie forced a smile, and leaving Laura behind ran down the stairs.

  John rose to his feet as she entered the lounge, his eyes travelling intently over her.

  ‘Pale, but interesting,’ he commented lightly. ‘Tell me, was it necessary to take to your bed to avoid a date with me?’

  Sophie relaxed. She had forgotten how easy John was to talk to. ‘I’ve been quite ill, actually,’ she replied indignantly. ‘And I’m sorry we missed our date.’

  ‘Are you? Good. Then you won’t object if I make another?’

  Sophie swung herself down into an armchair, curling one leg gracefully beneath her.

  ‘You have a message for me,’ she reminded him.

  ‘Yes,’ John nodded. ‘From our local historian, Mrs. Tarrant. She dined with us last evening and—er— your name came into the conversation.’

  ‘She told you she’d offered me a job.’ It was a statement.

  ‘Mmm—mm. She seemed quite keen. Your knowledge of Greek appears to have endeared you to her. Are you going to take the job?’

  Sophie looked down at her fingernails. ‘I haven’t decided yet. Is that what she sent you to ask me?’

  ‘No. That was my question. But Corfu is such a long way away.’

  ‘Corfu?’

  ‘That’s right. You know Mrs. Tarrant works in Corfu, don’t you?’

  ‘No. The actual location wasn’t mentioned.’ Sophie looked up. ‘So what is the message?’

  John seated himself opposite her. ‘Nothing dramatic. Just to let you know that she’s leaving for London this morning and she won’t be back until the middle of next week. I think she was afraid you would try and get in touch with her while she was away and imagine she had already left for Greece.’

  ‘Oh, I see.’ Sophie was surprised at the relief she felt. Her decision could wait for a few more days at least.

  Mrs. Forrest appeared with their coffee and while she set it down on a low table near Sophie, John asked her how her husband and family were keeping. Sophie thought he was very much the squire’s son at that moment. But he was very likeable.

  ‘So—down to more interesting matters,’ he remarked, after the daily had left them and Sophie was pouring the coffee. ‘Have dinner with me tomorrow evening.’

  Sophie gasped. ‘You don’t waste much time, do you?’

  ‘Time’s money, as my dear father would say.’

  ‘Even so…’ Sophie chuckled. ‘Anyway, that reminds me, I haven’t thanked you for all the flowers you sent while I was ill. They were gorgeous.’

  ‘I’m glad you liked them.’ John grinned at her as he accepted his coffee. ‘I suppose that’s my cue to say that none of them could be as gorgeous as you.’

  Sophie shook her head laughingly. She felt better at that moment than she had done for days. And when the door opened behind them, she felt no premonition, of apprehension glancing round. She had expected to meet her stepmother’s disapproving stare, but instead she encountered Robert’s cold and angry face.

  Almost at the same moment, John became aware of the advent of the newcomer, and he rose awkwardly to his feet, conscious that in some way he was responsible for Robert’s grim countenance.

  ‘Hey, Rob,’ he greeted the other man warmly. ‘What are you doing here?’

  Robert came into the room, his movements lithe and controlled, like the movements of a panther. ‘This is my home, John,’ he informed him coldly. ‘Why shouldn’t I be here?’

  John spread his hands apologetically and Sophie could feel the tension building. ‘I wasn’t questioning your right to be here, man. I’m surprised to see you, that’s all.’

  Robert inhaled deeply, looking down at the tray of coffee, and Sophie allowed herself to look at him. In cream suede pants and a cream silk shirt he was disturbingly attractive. The tight trousers clung to his thighs, emphasising the strong muscles there, drawing her attention to the long powerful legs. Her eyes drifted up over lean hips, a broadening expanse of chest beneath the clinging shirt, a strong throat, deeply tanned like his face. His face … her eyes encountered his and she flinched away from the cold, calculating fury she glimpsed there.

  ‘How are you, Sophie?’ he enquired politely, and she was astonished at the calmness of his tone. It disconcerted her, and her reply was jerky and stammered:

  ‘I—er—I’m—much—much better, thank you.’

  Robert returned his attention to John, much to Sophie’s relief. ‘At the risk of repeating your words— what are you doing here?’

  ‘I came to see Sophie.’ John shrugged his shoulders. ‘To see if she was better, and to bring her a message.’

  ‘A message?’ Robert raised his eyebrows sardonically. ‘I wouldn’t have seen you in the role of a messenger boy, John.’

  It was his tone rather than his words which was offensive and John’s expression hardened. ‘Perhaps not. But then I wouldn’t have seen you in the guise of the heavy father either.’

  Sophie rose abruptly to her feet. She was sick and tired of Robert picking arguments with other people in her company. ‘John doesn’t have to report his behaviour to you, Robert,’ she declared, her hands clenched into fists by her sides. ‘You have no right to come in here and behave as if we were committing some kind of crime! I have been ill, and John has been enquiring after my health! What are you doing home, anyway? I should have thought that as Emma has left you’d have spent your free time in London— with your fiancée!’

  It cost her a lot to say that, but it had the desired effect. With a contemptuous look at both of them, Robert turned and strode out of the room, slamming the door behind him.

  ‘Phew!’ John made a pretence of wiping his brow. ‘That was a close shave!’

  Sophie tried to smile. ‘Don’t be silly.’

  John shook his head. ‘I’m not. That stepbrother of yours would make mincemeat of me. I know—I saw him in action while we were at university.’

  Sophie paced restlessly to the windows, looking out on the lawns at the front of the house. ‘I’m sorry. I don’t know what’s wrong with him.’

  ‘I do.’ John thrust his hands into his pockets. ‘He’s jealous!’

  ‘Jealous?’ Sophie turned to stare at him incredulously. ‘You’re not serious!’

  ‘I am.’ John came to stand beside her. ‘It’s not unusual, Sophie. For years you’ve been Robert’s devoted sl
ave, his fervent admirer — hanging on his every word. Sooner or later you were bound to grow up, to make new friends, friends of the opposite sex.’

  ‘Oh, John!’

  ‘Well? Naturally, Rob doesn’t like it. It’s usurping his authority. Like the rest of us, he’s selfish with the things he cares about.’

  ‘But I’m not a thing! I’m a person.’

  ‘Exactly. And Rob’s just beginning to appreciate that. The fact that he’s engaged is tying his hands more securely.’

  Sophie digested this silently. It was possible that there was some truth in what John was saying, but it did not help her. For a moment—for a heart-stopping moment—when John had said that Robert was jealous, she had foolishly imagined he meant something entirely different, something infinitely more personal. But of course, John was right. If Robert was jealous of her friendship with John and Simon, it was a purely selfish reaction. He didn’t want her himself, but he didn’t care for anyone else to have her either. ‘

  ‘I think I’d better be going away,’ said John, at last ‘I don’t want to run into Simon on my way out.’

  Sophie’s lips twitched. ‘Stop teasing.’

  ‘All right. Now about tomorrow evening?’

  ‘Do you still want to take me out?’

  John grinned. ‘Forewarned is forearmed, as they say. I’ll be wearing my pigskin knuckledusters and packing a water pistol.’

  Sophie giggled. ‘Oh, John! You’re good for me, do you know that?’

  John caught her chin with one hand and studied her face intently. ‘You could be good for me, too, Sophie,’ he murmured huskily, and then dropped his hand and turned away. ‘Tomorrow night. Seven-thirty.’

  ‘All right,’ Sophie nodded, and he left her saying he could let himself out.

  After he had gone, Sophie put their dirty coffee cups back on the tray and picking it up carried it through to the kitchen. Laura was there, but so, too, was Mrs. Forrest, and her stepmother accompanied her back into the lounge. ‘Well?’ she urged. ‘What was the message?’

  Sophie made a casual gesture. ‘Nothing important. Mrs. Tarrant has gone away for a few days. She didn’t want me to try and contact her unsuccessfully.’ - ‘Was that all?’

  Laura looked disappointed. ‘Couldn’t she have telephoned?’

  ‘I expect she could. But as she was dining with the Merediths last night, I suppose John offered to let me know himself.’ She paused. ‘By the way, I’m having dinner with him tomorrow evening.’

  Laura was taken aback. ‘I see. I thought your father and I made our opinion of your association with John Meredith clear enough while you were ill.’

  ‘I like him,’ said Sophie steadily.

  ‘He’s much too old for you. And besides, he’s engaged.’

  ‘That’s his affair, surely.’

  ‘Sophie!’ Laura tapped her palms irritably together. ‘What is the matter with you?

  Ever since you arrived home you seem to have taken a delight in disrupting this household!’

  ‘I’m sorry.’

  Laura sighed impatiently. ‘Oh, my dear, I don’t want to quarrel with you, but-‘ She halted. ‘Do you know Robert’s home?’

  Sophie stiffened. ‘Yes.’

  ‘I suppose he came and had a few words with John.’

  ‘You could say that.’

  Laura frowned. ‘Why do you sound so sarcastic?’

  ‘No reason.’ Sophie sagged. ‘I’m tired, Mummy. Do you mind if I go and sit in the garden for a while?’

  Laura clicked her tongue. ‘Oh, I suppose not.’ She shook her head in apparent confusion. ‘I don’t know what things are coming to.’

  Mrs. Forrest had already unfolded the lounger and left it in Sophie’s favourite position beneath the wide branches of the oak. She stretched her legs wearily and felt a sense of impatience at her own weakness. Lying in bed had taken its toll of her strength, but the mental energy consumed in her confrontation with Robert had been the telling factor.

  She wondered how long she would take to feel completely recovered. Perhaps by the time Mrs. Tarrant returned from London she would feel strong enough to make the decision about her future. Right now, it had never seemed more nebulous.

  The sun glinted down through the branches of the tree and she closed her eyes. She could hear the steady humming of the bees among her stepmother’s sweet peas, and the occasional squabbling of the birds in the branches overhead. From the house she could hear the sound of Mrs. Forrest vacuuming the bedrooms. The windows were all wide and she could vaguely distinguish the sound of voices in the study.

  She had been lying there perhaps half an hour when she realised that the voices droning on the stillness of the air were gradually getting louder. She couldn’t hear what was being said, but she could recognise the antagonists now as her stepmother and Robert.

  Her nerves tightened and a wave of apprehension swept over her body. Her eyes opened and she looked down with dislike at her fingers gripping the arms of the chair. Calm down, she told herself fiercely. It’s probably nothing to do with you.

  But what were they arguing about? It was obvious from the tone of their voices that anger was simmering near the surface. She felt her whole body tense as a sudden silence ensued, but then the voices broke out as before, louder now, still not close enough for her to hear the words but sharper.

  She realised as feet crunched on gravel that they were at the front of the house. There was an altercation and then the heavy slamming of a car door. Sophie sat upright, her mouth suddenly dry as the powerful engine roared to life. Whatever else was exchanged was lost in the shattering squeal of protesting tyres, as the Jensen took off down the drive. Sophie found she was trembling and endeavoured to get control of herself. So what? Robert was gone again. But where? And for how long?

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  ALTHOUGH her stepmother looked rather distraught at lunch time, no mention was made of the row she had had with Robert and Sophie was surprised. Instead, Laura made light of his visit, telling her husband and Simon that he had merely called in on his way to London. Simon had spent the morning in Hereford, and Sophie couldn’t help feeling relieved that he had not been involved.

  Of Sophie’s intention to go out with John Meredith, Laura was much more coherent, and Doctor Kemble added his disapproval to that of his wife and stepson.

  ‘I don’t blame you entirely, Sophie,’ he said heavily. ‘Meredith should have more sense than to go around making assignations with other girls of good family.’

  Sophie pushed her half-eaten steak aside. ‘Does that mean that if I was not of good family it wouldn’t matter?’

  ‘Don’t speak to your father in that way!’ Laura’s lips were drawn in.

  Sophie coloured and her father sighed. ‘I can manage this, thank you, Laura,’ he stated, considering the wine in his glass. ‘Sophie, why do you want to go out with this man? Good heavens, aren’t there enough young men of your own age around?’

  ‘Young men of my own age bore me!’ retorted Sophie mutinously.

  Doctor Kemble shook his head. ‘It’s only to be expected, I suppose. You’ve been too much in the company of Robert and Simon-‘

  ‘That’s not true!’ exclaimed Sophie indignantly.

  ‘I’ve been at boarding school almost five years. I mixed with plenty of boys there.’

  She looked down at her hands folded in her lap. ‘And in any case, I like John. ‘He’s -‘ she glanced awkwardly at Simon, ‘he’s good company.’

  Mrs. Forrest’s appearance with the dessert successfully diverted the conversation and only Simon took it up later when he and Sophie were lounging in the garden together.

  ‘You know,’ he said confidentially, ‘Rob wouldn’t like the idea of you getting involved with John Meredith, any more than the rest of us.’

  Sophie expelled her breath resentfully. ‘Do you think I care what Robert likes?’

  Simon tugged absently at a blade of grass. ‘Yes, I think you do.’

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sp; Sophie turned her shoulder to him and stared moodily across the lawn. ‘I think I will accept Mrs. Tarrant’s offer of a job,’ she said bitterly. ‘Then I’ll be out of everyone’s hair.’

  ‘Oh, stop talking rubbish!’ Simon’s fingers dug into her shoulder as he swung her round to face him. ‘You know perfectly well that Rob’s at the bottom of everything—your attitude to John, your resentment against the parents, the temptation to take Mrs. Tarrant’s offer and escape. Do you think that will solve anything? Running away, I mean?’

  Sophie’s mouth trembled. ‘What do you suggest I do, then? Live here as a recluse?’

  ‘Of course not.’ Simon released her. ‘I suggest you start thinking about your future—your real future, not the immediate few months.’

  ‘A job with Mrs. Tarrant might last longer than a few months.’

  ‘What do you mean? That you’d throw up your studies to become a—a translator?

  Somebody else’s assistant, when you’ve got the ability to get a degree yourself?’

  ‘It would be interesting work, Simon. I’d enjoy it.’

  ‘Enjoy it I’ he growled angrily. ‘What a waste!’

  ‘Well, what about you?’ she countered. ‘You’re not ambitious. You’re quite content to work in Conwynneth.’

  ‘That’s different.’

  ‘How is it different?’

  ‘I’m not like you—or Rob. I’ve got no brilliant brain working for me. I know my limitations.’

  ‘And perhaps I know mine.’

  ‘You could do it. I know you could.’

  ‘In practical terms, yes. But what if I don’t want to?’

  Simon shredded the blade of grass he had torn up. ‘Do you know what you do want?’

  ‘I did.’ Sophie’s voice was low.

  Simon looked sharply at her. ‘Rob, I suppose.’ When Sophie didn’t answer, he kicked viciously at a clump of daisies. ‘Well, Rob’s going to marry Emma, and the sooner you accept that, the better.’