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  Sophie couldn’t stand much more of this. She got to her feet and thrust her thumbs into the low belt of her jeans. ‘I think I’ll go for a walk,’ she remarked with enforced nonchalance. ‘It’s such a lovely morning…’

  ‘If you wait a few minutes, I’ll come with you,’ exclaimed Emma at once, gulping her coffee. ‘I’d love a walk.’

  Sophie and Laura exchanged glances, Sophie’s aggressive, Laura’s appealing. Sophie gave in. ‘All right,’ she agreed briefly. ‘I’ll be in the garden.’

  The air outside was infinitely refreshing after the tenseness of the atmosphere in the kitchen. Sophie walked slowly over the lawns, her shoulders hunched, desperately seeking composure. ‘Sophie! Hi, Sophie!’

  She turned at the sound of her name on masculine lips. The boy hurrying towards her across the grass was lanky tall and fair, dressed in cream tee-shirt and shorts. He was carrying a tennis racket, and with a sense of resignation she recognised him as the boy her stepmother had mentioned had been asking for her.

  He reached her side and looked down at her admiringly. ‘Hi, Sophie. Remember me?’

  Sophie forced a smile. ‘Yes, of course. Hello, Graham.’

  Graham nodded, obviously relieved. ‘I came to see whether you had time for a game,’ he went on, indicating his racket. ‘Actually, I was going to come last weekend, but I’ve had the most ghastly cold. I’m only just beginning to feel normal again.’

  Sophie gave a sympathetic shake of her head. ‘Bad luck!’

  ‘Yes, wasn’t it? Summer colds are the hardest to shed, so I’m told. Anyway, I’m here now. How about it?’

  ‘I can’t.’ Sophie hesitated. ‘I’ve promised to go for a walk with—with Emma. Do you know Emma?’

  ‘Actually, no. She’s Robert’s fiancée, isn’t she? I’ve heard of her, of course. My sister’s engaged to John Meredith and-‘

  ‘I know.’ Sophie didn’t want to hear all that again. ‘They all go out together.’ She broke off and looked towards the house. ‘Well, here she comes now. I’ll introduce you.’

  And as she did so, an idea occurred to her.

  ‘As Graham is here,’ she suggested, ‘why don’t we play tennis instead?’ It would avoid the unwanted tete-a-tete with Emma. ‘You and I could play, Emma, and then Graham could play the winner. Just one set each, of course.’

  Emma looked doubtful. ‘I don’t play tennis awfully well,’ she demurred, with her coy smile.

  ‘Nor do I,’ lied Sophie, her fingers crossed behind her back, and set out to prove that Emma could beat her without any difficulty.

  The soft court behind the house had seen dozens of games between Sophie and her stepbrothers. They had always been needle matches with Sophie striving for every point. Never had the court witnessed her playing so deliberately badly as she did that morning. If Graham suspected her subterfuge, there was nothing he could do about it, and when she disappeared during his set with Emma the message she wanted to convey was not too hard to grasp.

  Sophie had made her way up to her room. She was in no mood to be sociable to anyone, and the prospect of the weeks ahead had never seemed so bleak.

  During the next few days, Sophie managed to evade any confidential conversations with Emma. It wasn’t too difficult. She was still helping her father in the mornings, and Laura roped Simon in to entertain their guest. Consequently Sophie had plenty of time to think about and brood over her future.

  In the middle of the week Simon cornered her alone in the dining room as she was setting the table for lunch and said bitterly: ‘Are you avoiding me, Sophie?’

  ‘Avoiding you, Simon? Don’t be silly!’

  He came round the table, blocking her exit. ‘I never seem to see you alone these days.’

  ‘You’ve been—entertaining—Emma.’ Sophie was flushed.

  ‘Keeping her out of the way, don’t you mean?’ Simon thrust his hands aggressively into the pockets of his cotton pants. ‘Oh, Sophie! Are you furious with me?’

  Sophie concentrated on setting out the knives and forks. ‘You’re talking nonsense, and you know it.’ She straightened. ‘Will you get out of my way? I want to finish.’

  Simon remained where he was. ‘You are angry with me, aren’t you? Why? Because I told you the truth about Rob? Didn’t you want to know, was that it?’

  Sophie looked down at the cloth. ‘I’d rather not talk about it, if you don’t, mind.’

  ‘Sooner or later you’ve got to.’

  ‘Do I?’ Sophie heaved a sigh. ‘Simon, please! Your mother is waiting to serve the lunch.’

  ‘To hell with the lunch!’ Simon’s face was grim. ‘Sophie,’ he appealed again. ‘Sophie, what do you want me to say and I’ll say it?’

  Sophie looked up at him helplessly. Then she put her hand on his arm. ‘Simon, I – ‘

  ‘Oh, so there you are, Simon!’ Emma’s somewhat shrill tones interrupted them, and Simon smothered an oath as he turned to face her. Emma came lightly across the coffee and cream-flecked carpet. ‘I’ve been looking everywhere for you, Simon. Look, here are the snaps I was telling you about.’

  Sophie turned back to the table as Simon moved away to examine the photographs Emma was holding out to him. She finished setting the table and would have left the room had Emma not called her back:

  ‘Come and see, Sophie. These are some snaps Robbie and I took in Portugal in April.

  Aren’t they good?’

  Sophie’s nerves stretched. Robert had been working in Portugal from February through to May. She hadn’t known that any of his girl-friends ever visited him on a job. But then Emma wasn’t just any girl-friend, was she?

  It tore Sophie’s emotions anew to see pictures of Robert taken in the Moorish quarter of Lisbon, dancing with Emma at a nightclub, relaxing on the beach at Estoril, lean and tanned in narrow bathing trunks.

  ‘Very nice,’ she managed tautly, and ignoring Simon’s instinctive sympathy she left them.

  However, in the late afternoon, when she was lying on her bed trying to make sense of the historical novel in front of her, her bedroom door opened and her younger stepbrother entered the room. She jack-knifed into a sitting position and regarded him with a hostile expression. ‘Yes?’

  Simon closed the door and leaned back against it. ‘What are you doing up here? It’s a glorious afternoon.’

  ‘Then why aren’t you out in it?’ she countered shortly.

  Simon sighed. ‘I came to find you. Did you know that there’s a dance at the village hall tonight? It should be quite a decent affair. They’ve brought some group in from Liverpool, and there’s to be refreshments. Would you like to go?’

  ‘No, thank you.’

  ‘Sophie!’

  ‘Well, I don’t want to.’

  ‘Why not?’

  ‘I don’t feel like dancing.’ She paused. ‘You go. Take Emma. I’m sure she’d be only too pleased – ‘

  ‘Stop being bitchy! Emma is going, as a matter of fact. John Meredith and his fiancée are going and they’ve invited her to go with them.’

  ‘Hard luck!’

  Simon moved away from the door. ‘Sophie, stop being so sarcastic! You know perfectly well that I have no interest in Emma. That’s Rob’s prerogative.’

  Sophie winced at the intended barb and Simon looked instantly contrite. ‘You make me say these things, Sophie,’ he exclaimed. ‘Please—I’m asking you. Come to the dance with me.’

  Sophie looked down at the bed coverlet. ‘Ask Vicky,’ she replied gruffly.

  ‘I don’t want to ask Vicky.’ Simon raised his eyes heavenward. ‘What is it you want of me, Sophie? Would you like me to make love to you—to demonstrate that I have feelings, too? Is that what you need?’

  Sophie lifted her head reluctantly. It wasn’t fair to make Simon a whipping-boy for her own frustration. ‘No. No, of course not,’ she managed, in a small voice. ‘I’m sorry, Simon. If—if you really want to take me to the dance, then—then all right, I’ll come.’

  Simon
’s eyes darkened as he looked down -at her. ‘Oh, Sophie,’ he muttered huskily, and then he came down beside her on the bed, leaning forward and putting his lips to hers.

  It was the first time he had kissed her since they were children, and although Sophie did not find the touch of his lips repulsive to her, nor did she feel anything more than an immense compassion for him. She allowed him to be the one to draw back, and when he did, she said:

  ‘I think you’d better go now, Simon. I’d hate to think what your mother would say if she found you here—like this.’

  ‘I don’t care what she’d say,’ he muttered fiercely, and would have kissed her again, but now Sophie drew back.

  ‘Well, I do,’ she insisted gently. ‘What time do we have to leave tonight?’

  Simon paused near the door. ‘John and Joanna are calling for Emma about eight. I guess we could leave then, too.’

  Sophie smiled, and reassured, Simon left her. But after he had gone Sophie wondered whether, in the circumstances, she should have stuck to her refusal. It wasn’t fair to allow Simon to think that she could ever care for him in that way.

  Sophie delayed coming downstairs until she was sure Emma had departed. A trip to Hereford with her stepmother and Emma earlier in the week had yielded, two long dresses suitable for either day or evening wear, and although at the time her initial impulse had been to refuse Laura’s generous offer, she was glad now she had not given in to the impulse. She had chosen to wear the one with the low round neckline and long sleeves. It was very plain below a high bustline, and made of the kind of material that clung where it touched and was patterned in shades- of green and grey. She knew it suited her. She knew it enhanced the honey-gold tan she had acquired, and she also knew that her appearance would in some part reassure her parents that she had recovered from, her malaise. If they had equal doubts as to the advisability of allowing her to go out with Simon, they were prepared to overlook them for the present.

  Simon’s reaction to her appearance was very flattering, and although she knew that that part of her which responded to his attentions was remote from the integral functions of her body which Robert had devastated, she nevertheless enjoyed the feeling of being admired after the shattering experiences of last weekend.

  By the time they arrived at the hall and found somewhere to park Simon’s station wagon, the dance was already well under way. Village affairs tended to be supervised by the clergy and consequently midnight was considered quite late enough to close the hall. This meant that the young people arrived earlier instead of imbibing liberally at the Bay Horse first.

  The hall was large and spacious, festooned with streamers and balloons. The group was already playing on the stage at one end of the hall, while at the other buffet tables provided an assortment of refreshments. And in spite of Sophie’s misgivings, she and Simon were inevitably engulfed by the crowd that included John Meredith and his fiancee and Emma. Still, they were dancing most of the time, and in the throng of young people it was possible to lose oneself completely. Emma seemed to be enjoying herself, too. Several of the boys had asked her to dance and only Simon hung back, monopolising Sophie.

  But eventually John Meredith insinuated himself between them and asked Sophie to dance with him. Simon turned to ask Joanna, but she was already dancing with someone else and only Emma was available. Sophie met his frustrated glare as she followed John out on to the floor and felt guiltily aware that she could have refused and remained with him. However, after a few minutes she forgot Simon’s problems as she encountered some problems of her own.

  The group had disbanded for a break and the music now issuing from the loudspeakers came from records. Instead of the previous heavy beat music, the vicar had taken the opportunity to put on some soothing dance music, and the dreamy quality of the waltz caused John to draw her closely into his arms and lay his cheek against hers.

  ‘This is better, isn’t it?’ he murmured, in her ear, and she was consci6us of his lips moving in her hair.

  ‘I think you should behave yourself, Mr. Meredith,’ she answered coolly. ‘I’d hate your fiancée to think I was encouraging you.’

  John chuckled. ‘Oh, you’re so romantic, Miss Kemble,’ he teased, and she smelt the aroma of whisky on his breath.

  ‘And you’ve had too much to drink,’ she countered, drawing back to look at him.

  ‘I haven’t.’ His eyes mocked her. ‘On my honour, I haven’t had more than two drinks this evening.’

  ‘Two drinks?’ Sophie tipped her head on one side. ‘But how big were they?’

  John smiled. ‘Ah, that would be telling!’

  Conscious of his eyes appraising her appearance, Sophie glanced nervously about her. ‘There are quite a lot of people here, aren’t there? These affairs are very well patronised.’

  ‘Are they?’ John looked down at her dress. ‘Did that possessive stepbrother of yours tell you how delicious you look?’

  Sophie couldn’t prevent a small smile. ‘Not in those words, no.’

  ‘I thought not. Well, I’m telling you. You look beautiful.’ His expression sobered.

  ‘Will you have dinner with me tomorrow evening?’

  Sophie gasped, ‘Of course not!’

  ‘Why not?’

  Sophie felt sure everyone could hear what he was saying even though the din of the music made it impossible. ‘Because I can’t.’

  ‘Because of Joanna?’

  Sophie looked down at the buttons on his jacket. What price now her vain boast to Robert that if John asked her out with him again she would go? But that had been before she had found out… She pressed her lips tightly together. Before Robert had made such a fool of her!

  ‘Well?’ John squeezed her fingers within his own. ‘Is it because of Joanna?’

  ‘It should be.’

  ‘Then it isn’t just that?’

  ‘Oh, John!’ She looked up at him impatiently. ‘Why are you asking me to have dinner with you? You know very well that—that your loyalty is due to your fiancée.’

  ‘What an old-fashioned expression!’

  ‘Nevertheless, it’s true.’

  ‘All right, so it’s true. That’s my problem. But I would still like to take you out for dinner tomorrow evening.’

  Sophie shook her head. ‘I’m sorry.’

  ‘Are you afraid of what your parents might say?’ He paused. ‘Or are you afraid of what—Robert will say?’

  ‘What do you mean?’

  ‘Oh, don’t give me that, Sophie. Everyone knows how you feel about Robert—or rather, how you think you feel.’

  Sophie swallowed hard and stared at him. ‘I don’t know what you mean.’

  John sighed. ‘Don’t make me say it, Sophie.’

  ‘Say it? Say what?’

  ‘Sophie, everyone knows you’ve had a crush on Robert for years. Good lord, your parents knew about it, didn’t they? As soon as that became apparent, you were packed off to boarding school.’

  Sophie’s cheeks burned. ‘I see,’ she managed tautly, while inside she was a seething mass of chaotic thoughts and emotions. ‘Thank you for telling me.’

  ‘Oh, come on, Sophie.’ John uttered an exclamation, half ashamed of his outburst. ‘It wasn’t evident to everyone. Only Rob and I are the same age. I saw what the onlooker always sees.’

  ‘And did you discuss this with him?’ she asked tightly, aware of a rising sense of resentment against Robert for not telling her.

  John coloured now. ‘Hell, no! You should know Robert better than that.’ He glanced round. ‘Come on, let’s go and get a drink. Oh-‘ as she would have protested ‘—Coke, of course.’

  Sophie acquiesced and they made their way to the end of the room. Cans of Coke and other soft drinks were pyramided on the end buffet table, and John paid for two and handed one to Sophie. ‘We’ll drink it in the corridor,’ he said, making for the door so that she had, perforce, to follow him. ‘It’s too hot in here.’

  It was infinitely cooler in the c
orridor, but Sophie felt momentarily doubtful about leaving the hall with John. Then she relaxed as indignation over what he had just told her hardened her scruples. At least no one should accuse her of having a crush on John; the running was all on his side; and if Joanna didn’t like it, then perhaps she should find some more adequate way to control her errant fiancé.

  ‘Now what are you thinking about?’ John stretched out a hand and touched her forehead where a frown was drawing her dark brows together. ‘You’re not still mad at me for what I said just now, are you?’

  Sophie swallowed a mouthful of Coke before replying. Then she shook her head.

  ‘No. I was thinking about Joanna, as a matter of fact.’

  John sighed and leaned back against the wall. ‘What about Joanna?’

  ‘Do you love her?’

  ‘What’s that got to do with anything?’

  ‘Do you?’

  John shrugged. ‘I guess so.’

  ‘Then why do you want to go out with me?’

  John made an indifferent gesture. ‘Loving Joanna doesn’t blind me to the charms of other women.’

  Sophie’s lips tilted. ‘Thank you.’

  ‘For what?’

  ‘Calling me a woman. It’s the first time anyone’s ever done that.’

  John grinned. ‘But not the last. Oh, Sophie, you will have dinner with me, won’t you?’ he appealed.

  Sophie hesitated. ‘I’ll think about it.’

  ‘I’ll pick you up at seven-thirty tomorrow evening,’ stated John firmly.

  ‘My parents will know,’ she warned.

  John made a face at her. ‘Tough!’

  Sophie gave him an exasperated stare. ‘You must feel very sure of Joanna.’

  ‘I do.’ He narrowed his eyes. ‘Not so sure of you, though, Sophie. You wouldn’t let me down, would you?’

  Sophie raised her eyebrows. ‘You’ll just have to wait to find out.’

  The sound of voices and movement near the doors to the hall attracted their attention, and turning Sophie saw Simon and Joanna and several more of their crowd emerging, obviously looking for them.