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  ‘My father?’ Sophie dried her eyes with the sleeve of her blazer. ‘What does my father know about this? What do you mean?’

  Robert sighed. ‘Naturally I told him what had happened.’

  ‘You—didn’t!’

  ‘Why not? Good God, Sophie, how many more times do I have to tell you? I was sick of myself. I had to give some reason for not coming back to Penn Warren while you were there.’

  ‘But—but—there was that job in the Far East…’

  ‘There was no job. At least, not for a couple of months anyway. Sophie, I had to tell him. I was ashamed …’

  ‘Ashamed?’ Sophie moved her head from side to side. This couldn’t be happening—not after—not after the way he had kissed her … ‘Oh, Robert, I’ll never forgive you!’

  ‘I’m not asking for your forgiveness! Hell, I’m just trying to show you the way things really are. I don’t want you to go on imagining that what happened that Christmas—well, that it was anything more than a fleeting impulse – ’

  ‘It was!’ she cried.

  Robert shook his head resignedly. ‘No, Sophie.’ He sighed. ‘I thought you were more mature. I was your first—experience, but you certainly weren’t mine! And that’s all it was, Sophie—an experience.’

  ‘Not for me,’ she declared chokingly. ‘Oh, I don’t know how you can say such things after—after what just happened.’

  ‘Oh, God, Sophie! I’m only human. You invited what just happened, you know you did. I’m not proud of it, but how was I to know - ‘ He broke off and made an impatient gesture. ‘I wanted to comfort you, Sophie—because of the storm. I’ve comforted you before — remember? As I recall it, you once came to my bed in the middle of the night because of a storm. You were about eight years old at the time.

  You were petrified. I let you stay with me, I put my arms about you— just as I did just now. What happened afterwards was not of my instigation.’

  ‘You’re hateful!’ she exclaimed in a muffled voice, drawing her knees up to her chin and wrapping her arms round her drawn-up legs. ‘I—I never thought you could be so—so cruel, Robert.’

  Robert raked his hair back again with a vehemence that spoke of his frustration. He glared out at the storm and made a sound of relief that at last the rain was easing and watery rays of sun were casting spears of rainbow colour across the lake that lay below them in the valley. He leant forward and turned the ignition, breathing a sigh of satisfaction as the powerful engine leapt to instant life. Glancing through the rear-view mirror, he drove off the grassy verge and on to the rain-soaked road, controlling the skidding of tyres caked with mud.

  ‘You’d better tidy yourself,’ he commented briefly, as they began the descent into the valley. Conwynneth lay in a fold of the hills and already it was possible to see the grey roofs of the cottages that edged the village green. ‘Or do you want to have to explain what’s been happening?’

  Sophie pushed her feet to the floor and rumbled in her pocket for her tie. As she slotted it under the collar of her blouse and fastened it carelessly, her lips were pressed tightly together. She guessed that Robert saw her expression as mutinous.

  He was not to know that had she not pressed her lips together they would have trembled violently. She felt sick and shaken, and totally unprepared for the confrontation with the family which was to come. All her hopes and fantasies about Robert had been shattered during the last half hour and the last thing she wanted was to have to make any unnecessary explanations. What she really wanted to do was to crawl away somewhere and hide until her wounds had healed a little.

  CHAPTER TWO

  PENN WARREN was a rambling old house which stood on the outskirts of the village.

  The Kembles had modernised it to the extent of adding decent plumbing and an efficient central heating system, but much of its atmosphere remained in the oak panelling and wide stone fireplaces. As the boys grew up they constantly seemed to be giving themselves crippling blows on low beams, and yet, for all that, none of them would have had it any different.

  To Sophie, it spelled the days of her childhood and adolescence. Long summer days swimming or fishing with the boys, playing cricket or tennis in the huge, partially overgrown garden of the house, autumn with its fires and roasted chestnuts, winter when the snow coated the trees outside and they had all sat round a glowing peat fire drinking mugs of mulled ale. She had always been happy there, and it was doubly hard for her to accept that that happiness had depended so completely on her love for Robert.

  She awoke on the morning after her return from school with an unfamiliar feeling of depression causing a dull little ache behind her eyes. She lay for a few minutes wondering what had caused it, and then recollection of the events of the day before came back to her and she rolled on to her stomach, burying her face in the pillow.

  Oh, God, she thought desperately, what am I going to do?

  It had been almost dinner time when she arrived the night before. To her relief, her father was out on a call, and only Laura and Simon had been there to greet her. She thought of Simon with affection. He had been so reassuringly normal—so delighted to see her— so good-natured and kind and sweet. He had made things much easier for her, and although at times she had caught him watching her with a rather anxious expression in his eyes, she didn’t think her stepmother had noticed anything amiss in her relationship with Robert. By the time her father came home after deliv-ering Mrs. Jones’ fourth, the meal was over and Sophie’s initial nervousness controlled. Robert had gone out straight after dinner. He had made some excuse about promising to go over to the Hall to see John Meredith, the son of the largest local landowner, who had been at university with him, and no one had demurred.

  Indeed, if Sophie had not been so wrapped up in her own misery she might have noticed that both her stepmother and Simon relaxed more fully once Robert had left them. Instead, she made a great effort to talk gaily about her last few weeks at school, and she was almost sure she had convinced them that she had no greater problem on her mind than whether or not to apply for university entrance before Christmas.

  Now she pushed herself up on her elbows and peered at the Noddy clock ticking away on her bedside table. The clock had been a seventh birthday present from the boys and in spite of its incongruity in her teenage bedroom she had never wanted to change it.

  She blinked. It couldn’t be half past ten already, could it? Although as she had lain awake for hours listening for the sound of Robert’s car and even after his return had been unable to get to sleep for ages, it was possible that she had overslept. But why had no one awakened her? She hunched her shoulders. And why should she want them to anyway? It was better to be asleep and oblivious of what had happened.

  However, she could not stay in bed all day. Besides, she owed it to her parents to pull herself together and act normally. After all, nothing had really changed, that was the amazing thing. Just because her illusions had been shattered did not alter the situation. So far as Robert was concerned, she was still the little sister he had always regarded her.

  She forced her mind away from this train of thought. Right now it was almost impossible to accept that never, at any time, had he regarded her in any other light.

  She would have to accept it, of course, but for the present her most sensible course of action would be to try and behave to him as she had always done. Their relationship had been such a deep and satisfying thing. Surely that had not been destroyed too?

  Who knows, maybe at some future date he might become attracted to her…

  With a determination she had not known she possessed, Sophie bathed and put on her underwear and was rummaging through her wardrobe for her jeans when there was a knock at the door.

  ‘Who is it?’ she called a little breathlessly, and then expelled her breath more steadily as her stepmother’s head appeared.

  ‘Oh, you’re up!’ she exclaimed, pushing open the door and entering the room to reveal a tray laden with fruit juice, ham and eg
gs, toast and marmalade. ‘I was going to give you breakfast in bed. You looked rather tired last night and I told your father you looked as though you could do with a rest.’

  Sophie forced a smile. ‘I’m fine, really I am. But it was kind of you, Mummy.’

  ‘Well, why don’t you put on your dressing gown and pop back into bed?’ suggested Laura, making room on the bedside table for the tray. ‘It’s a dull morning and there’s absolutely nothing for you to get up for. Your father won’t be back from surgery for another half hour and then you can come down and have coffee with him.’

  Sophie hesitated. She wasn’t hungry and the prospect of tackling all the food on the tray made her feel slightly sick. But perhaps it was better to hide her lack of appetite up here where she could always dispose of some of it down the lavatory.

  ‘All right,’ she agreed, pulling on the frilly flower-sprigged white wrapper which matched the nightdress she had just shed. ‘I’ll be lazy for once.’

  Laura settled the tray across her legs and then stood looking down at her thoughtfully while Sophie manfully swallowed the fruit juice. ‘Are you all right, darling?’ she asked unexpectedly.

  Sophie coloured and almost choked on the grapefruit juice. ‘Why—of course,’ she managed, clearing her throat. ‘Shouldn’t I be?’

  Laura shook her head. ‘Yes, of course.’ She paused. ‘Graham White came over here last week to enquire when you were due home. I think he’s looking forward to seeing you again.’

  Sophie put down her glass. ‘Graham White? Oh, you mean that boy from Trefyddol.’

  ‘Yes. You know Graham. His father and yours play golf occasionally together.’

  ‘Oh, yes.’ Conscious of Laura’s gaze Sophie picked up the fork and lifted a tiny button mushroom into her mouth. ‘I don’t know him awfully well. He’s at college, isn’t he?’

  ‘Yes. He’s just completed his first year.’ Laura bit her lip. ‘I invited him over next weekend, as a matter of fact. I thought you and he might have a game of tennis together.’

  ‘Oh, Mummy I’ Sophie couldn’t hide her dismay now. ‘I can play tennis with Simon and—and Robert!’

  ‘I know that. And I’m sure Simon will be only too willing to give you a game, but Robert may be—rather busy.’

  Sophie concentrated her attention on her plate. ‘That’s all right, I don’t mind. I can amuse myself.’

  ‘But you should have friends of your own age, Sophie!’ protested Laura. ‘You’ve spent too much time with Simon and Robert.’

  Sophie looked up. ‘Honestly, Mummy, you don’t have to make plans for me. I’m quite capable of entertaining myself.’ She moved her shoulders awkwardly.

  ‘Actually, I’m thinking of getting a job.’

  The idea had only just occurred to her, but Laura was not to know that, and her stepmother’s face assumed an anxious expression.

  ‘A job, Sophie? Oh, I don’t think your father would want you to do that.’

  ‘Why not?’ It wasn’t such a bad idea, after all.

  ‘Well-‘ Laura spread her hands. ‘You’ve only just finished school. I think he hopes you’ll spend this year before you go to university with us.’

  Sophie decided she might as well get hanged for a sheep as for a lamb. ‘I haven’t decided whether I want to go to university yet, Mummy,’ she said quietly.

  ‘What? Not go to university?’ Laura was horrified. ‘Oh, don’t be silly, Sophie, of course you’re going to university. Your father has great hopes for you. I’m sure you wouldn’t dream of letting him down like that!’

  Sophie pursed her lips. ‘University isn’t everything,’ she insisted.

  ‘What do you mean?’

  ‘Well, I—I might want to do something else. Get— married, for example.’

  ‘Married?’ Laura shook her head impatiently. ‘Sophie, you’re talking nonsense, and you know it. Good heavens, you’re only seventeen! You can’t seriously be considering abandoning your studies for—for something as distant as marriage!’

  Sophie sniffed. ‘As I said, I haven’t decided yet.’

  ‘Well, I’m pretty sure if you tell this to your father, he’ll be terribly hurt. Sophie, I know he loves the boys —I know he’s always treated them as his own sons, but they’re not—ultimately. You are his daughter. Surely that must mean something to you. Surely you’ll allow him to do for you what he has done for the boys?’

  Sophie moved uncomfortably. Laura was right, of course. If she did decide not to go on with her education her father would be very disappointed. Hurt, too, if she was honest.

  Sighing, she pushed the tray aside. ‘I’m sorry, Mummy, I’m not very hungry right now;’

  Laura, who had taken a few steps towards the door, came back to the bed. She looked troubled. ‘And I’m sorry, too, Sophie,’ she said heavily. ‘It’s your first morning at home and already I’m upsetting you. I think we’d better leave things as they are for the time being. There’s no hurry, whatever you decide.’

  Sophie felt suddenly terribly guilty. ‘Oh, Mummy!’ she exclaimed, and scrambling up on to her knees she hugged the older woman. ‘I didn’t mean to upset you either.’

  She drew back to look into her face. ‘But I might get a job, you know. Lots of people do. Even— even if it’s just until I go to—to university.’

  Laura’s expression cleared. She looked down at her stepdaughter affectionately.

  They had always had such a good relationship and she didn’t want to spoil that.

  There had never been any friction between them, any jealousy over Dr. Kemble or the boys. Nothing must change that.

  ‘All right, darling,’ she agreed with a smile. ‘We’ll talk about it. But not yet. Give your father a few days to get used to having you back again. He misses you, you know.’

  Sophie sat back on her heels. ‘All right.’ She glanced round. ‘And now I think I’d better get dressed. I want to go outside and look around. I always enjoy my first few days at home getting used to things again.’

  Laura picked up the tray and left her, apparently reassured by Sophie’s acquiescence. Sophie took off the frilly wrapper and rescued the denim jeans from the back of her wardrobe. Last summer she had taken a bath in them to shrink them to her body, but now she found they scarcely fitted. She had filled out in all the right places, but the jeans didn’t give in the way her skin did. She sighed. They were all she had and they would have to do until she had had time to do some shopping.

  With a grimace she pulled on a navy blue, tee-shirt with a caricature of a once well-loved pop star on the front, and tugged a brush through her long, silvery fair hair.

  She encountered Simon on the landing outside his bedroom, and when he saw her he fell back with assumed horror.

  ‘My God!’ he exclaimed humorously. ‘You don’t intend going outside these four walls in those things, do you?’

  Sophie wrinkled her nose at him good-naturedly. ‘Don’t you like the way I look?’

  Simon gave a mocking smile. ‘Oh, yes, I like it. But I don’t somehow think your father will.’

  Sophie sighed and pulled impatiently at the tight-fitting pants. ‘I can’t help it. I shrank them last year and now they’re too small.’

  ‘Get your coat and I’ll take you into Hereford to buy some more,’ suggested Simon reasonably. I’m free this morning.’

  Sophie was tempted, but she hadn’t been downstairs yet. She didn’t know what Robert might be doing. The only thing she could be certain of was that he would surely not ask her to join him.

  ‘I’m not sure…’ she began awkwardly, and Simon assumed a tolerant expression.

  ‘Rob’s not in,’ he commented laconically, and she started at the mention of his name.

  ‘He’s gone sailing with John. They arranged it last night.’

  ‘Oh! Oh, I see.’ Sophie managed to shrug and walked to the head of the stairs. ‘Is Daddy back yet?’

  Simon frowned. ‘That sounds like his car now.’ He paused. ‘Shall we go to
Hereford?’

  Sophie looked back at him. ‘All right. If—if you like.’ She looked down the stairs as her father’s footsteps could be heard on the flags outside the front door. ‘But I promised I’d have coffee with Daddy first.’

  ‘Okay.’ Simon made her a mock bow and opened his bedroom door. ‘I’ll be ready in half an hour.’

  Simon was right in his assumption that Dr. Kemble would not approve of the revealing jeans. ‘You can’t go out in those, Sophie,’ he exclaimed, as they sat together in his study, companionably sharing a pot of coffee. Laura had tactfully left them alone, and Sophie was almost happy sitting in the huge leather chair opposite her father in the book-lined room she had loved for most of her life.

  ‘Simon says he’ll take me to Hereford to buy some more,’ she replied, sipping the aromatic beverage with real enjoyment. ‘The only thing is…’

  She paused and her father laughed. ‘I know. You’ve got no money.’

  ‘How did you guess?’ Sophie actually chuckled. ‘Actually, Mummy said she would buy me some clothes these holidays. All my things are getting too small for me.’

  ‘I’m not surprised,’ remarked Dr. Kemble dryly. ‘You’re growing up, Sophie. You’re quite a young woman now.’

  ‘Yes.’ His words had somehow reminded her of Robert’s rejection with painful clarity.

  If her father noticed her sudden withdrawal, he chose to ignore it, and went on: ‘Go into Levinsons. Your mother has an account there. Buy anything you want.’

  ‘Thank you.’ Sophie summoned enthusiasm. ‘But I shan’t buy much today. I’ll wait until Mummy can come, too.’

  ‘All right, suit yourself.’ Her father was writing a cheque as he spoke. ‘Here.’ He passed the cheque over to her and she stared at the sum he had written in astonishment.