Читать книгу Come Running - Anne Mather - Страница 7

The marquee was crowded with friends and relatives all wanting to wish the happy couple every happiness, and Darrell sought the coolness of the moist air outside. It was a pity it had rained, a wet day in the small North Yorkshire town of Sedgeley was not exactly the ideal beginning to a marriage, but Susan and Frank looked so happy that Darrell had to concede that the weather meant little to them. She sighed without envy. Without that move from the London hospital to the Sedgeley Infirmary, it could well have been herself and Barry taking the plunge, but she was glad it was not. She had liked Barry well enough, she still liked him, but not enough to marry him.

She glanced back into the marquee. The toasts were over. Any minute now, Susan and Frank would be leaving for Susan’s mother’s house to get changed before leaving on their honeymoon. They were going to Majorca – where else? thought Darrell wryly – and then chided herself for her cynicism. Susan was a nice girl, she liked her, and as fellow nurses, they worked well together.

Her heels were sinking into the damp ground beneath her feet and she looked down impatiently. The hem of her coffee-coloured gown was going to be ruined, but that couldn’t be helped. No one could have expected a week of torrential rain at the beginning of June which had made the area around the marquee a veritable quagmire.

A sudden breeze brought her hand to her head to secure the wide-brimmed straw boater and with her other hand plucking the hem of her skirt out of the mud, she became aware that she was being observed with some amusement by a man standing just inside the entrance to the marquee.

She knew who the man was. She had been introduced to him earlier. He was Matthew Lawford, Susan’s eldest brother, who, together with his wife, had come up from London for the wedding. But Darrell had heard about him before then. Susan talked about him a lot. She was very proud of her brother who had succeeded in getting to Oxford and was now one of the youngest financiers in the city. A tycoon, Susan called him, although Darrell suspected that was a word coined by her family and not by Matthew Lawford himself.

Her initial impressions of him were mixed. Physically, he was a very attractive man, with straight brown hair, brown eyes, and the kind of tan not associated with summers in Sedgeley. She guessed his age to be around thirty-two or thirty-three, and although his beginnings were not in doubt, several years living in London had smoothed out most of his accent. He was tall, without an ounce of superfluous flesh on his bones, and his clothes, obviously out of the class of those of his father and brothers, fitted him with ease and elegance. And yet elegant wasn’t a word Darrell would have used to describe him. His face was too hard for that, his manner occasionally exhibiting a toughness which would not be out of place in the wrestling ring. It was the sinuous way he moved that drew attention to his appearance, a kind of grace simulated with animal-like ease.

No, his appearance, his magnetism with women, was not in any doubt, and in other circumstances Darrell might have felt wary of him. But to counteract this feeling, there was the presence of Celine Lawford, his wife.

She was the discordant note in the whole proceedings, and Darrell had been unable to avoid noticing how unsuited she was to her present surroundings. Small and slender, with a cap of silvery blonde hair framing her piquantly attractive face, Celine was as striking as her husband, but it was obvious that she neither liked nor made any effort to mix with Matthew’s family. It was evident in the bored expression she had worn throughout the ceremony, and afterwards at the reception she had made it painfully apparent that she considered the arrangements gauche and lacking in refinement. Clearly, she had not attended the wedding willingly, and she considered her husband’s relatives coarse and vulgar.

It wasn’t true, of course. The Lawfords were a friendly crowd, and during the eight months Darrell had lived in Sedgeley, she had grown very fond of these down-to-earth northern people. But she, like everyone else, had had to learn to accept them for what they were and not try to change them. They had no time for artifice or pretension, whereas Celine no doubt was used to the bland sophistication of city life.

Matthew Lawford was different. Darrell had had to admit that to herself. He had fitted back into his surroundings with the ease of a chameleon, swallowing beers in the pub before the wedding with his father and four younger brothers as if he was used to doing this every day of his life. The Lawfords were a large family, Susan had two older married sisters as well as the younger one who had been bridesmaid, but it was Matthew who appeared to be the family favourite, and to be charitable Darrell had at first thought that Celine was jealous. She might well be, but it wasn’t just that. Whatever feelings she had for her husband, she cared nothing for his family, and Darrell had hoped that her attitude wouldn’t spoil Susan’s day. It hadn’t. The Lawford clan was too closeknit for that.

“Having problems?”

The attractive unfamiliar voice brought Darrell’s head up with a jerk to find the subject of her thoughts standing right in front of her, regarding her steadily. “Oh – not really,” she demurred, with a rueful smile. “It’s my fault for coming out here.”

Matthew’s eyes travelled down to the toes of her shoes emerging from the hem of her gown. “It was pretty humid in there, though, wasn’t it?” he commented, looking into her eyes again. He had a disturbingly direct stare that disconcerted her. “You’re Miss Anderson, aren’t you? Susan’s nursing friend?”

“Darrell Anderson,” supplied Darrell, nodding. “It’s a pity it’s been such a miserable day.”

“Do you believe in omens, Miss Anderson?” he enquired, and she thought he was teasing her.

“Not really.”

“Nor do I.” He smiled. “Would you believe I got married in a heatwave?”

Darrell found herself smiling, but she couldn’t help it, even though his remark had been outrageous. “I – are you going back to London tonight, Mr. Lawford?”

“You know who I am, then?”

Darrell looked up at him in surprise, and in spite of her five feet six inches she had to look up at him, holding her boater on to the back of her head. “Of course. You’re Susan’s brother.”

“And do you call all her brothers Mr. Lawford?”

Darrell shook her head, and he nodded. “So – the name’s Matthew, or Matt, if you’d rather. That’s what the family call me. And no, I’m not driving back to London tonight.”

Darrell could feel her hair working loose from the coronet she had secured on top of her head, and red-gold tendrils were tumbling about her ears. Dropping the hem of her skirt, she gave herself up to securing her hair, taking off her hat and sighing resignedly.

“I think I’m fighting a losing battle, don’t you?” she asked lightly, and then pointed into the marquee behind them. “Oh, look! Susan and Frank are leaving.”

The bride and groom left in a shower of confetti, the crowd surging after them to wave them off, and Darrell felt Matthew’s hand close round her wrist for a moment to prevent her from being swept along with them. For a moment she was close against him, his chest hard against the softness of her full breasts. Then he had set her free again and was saying apologetically: “Sorry about that, but people get carried away here – literally!” He smiled. “I understand my mother has invited you to join us at the house this evening. They don’t allow the excuse for a freak-out to go unchallenged around here. Perhaps you’ve noticed. Not that they’d call it a freak-out,” he amended wryly. “A knees-up, perhaps.” He paused. “Anyway, if you’d like to go home and change first, my car’s at your disposal.”

Darrell didn’t know what to say. She, who was usually so cool and collected with men, felt as nervous as a schoolgirl on her first date, and the feeling was unfamiliar and not altogether pleasant. She didn’t even know why she was feeling this way. Matthew Lawford had been amusing and polite, but nothing more. He was no doubt used to making small talk with his wife’s friends, and it meant no more to him than that. But a few moments ago, when his fingers had fastened round her wrist, she had experienced a terrifying new sensation that bore little resemblance to casual acquaintanceship.

“I – er – I came with Doctor Morrison and his wife – from the hospital,” she explained awkwardly. “I expect I’ll go home with them. I can always get a bus back later.” She glanced at her watch as though to confirm this. “After all, it’s only half past four.”

Matthew Lawford inclined his head. “If that’s what you prefer.”

Darrell felt terrible. It wasn’t what she preferred at all, but something, some inner sense warned her that further association with this man would be dangerous for her. She glanced round and saw to her relief that people were coming back again. The bride and groom had left for the bride’s home in Windsor Street to get changed. Pretty soon, the reception would break up and only the family and close friends would gather later on at the house. She felt vaguely relieved when another of Susan’s brothers came to join them.

Jeff Lawford was twenty-two, a year younger than Darrell, and a welder at a local steel works. For the past three months, he had been trying to persuade Darrell to go out with him, and he smiled at her now, flicking a speculative glance towards his older brother.

“Well?” he commented. “It went off very well, didn’t it? In spite of the lousy weather!”

“Susan looked beautiful,” exclaimed Darrell enthusiastically and Jeff gave her an old-fashioned look.

“Susan could never look beautiful!” he asserted with brotherly candour. “But she did look nice.” He surveyed Darrell thoroughly and with evident approval. “Now, if you had been the bride …”

Darrell coloured. “Oh, Jeff!”

“What’s wrong? With that red hair, you’d be a sensation!”

“It’s not red,” she retorted. “It’s darker than that.”

“If you say so.” Jeff grinned, and then slapped Matthew on the shoulder. “Fancy a beer, Matt?”

Matthew flexed his shoulder muscles. “I wouldn’t say no,” he conceded, glancing at Darrell. “Will you excuse us?”

“Of course.”

Darrell managed a smile in return, and then breathed a sigh almost of relief as they moved away. A small, motherly little woman was approaching her, and she turned to greet Susan’s mother with real warmth.

“Oh, Darrell,” said Mrs. Lawford, patting her arm. “I haven’t had a minute to talk to you since this morning. How did it go? Did you enjoy yourself? Did everyone have enough to eat and drink, do you think?”

Darrell relaxed. “Oh, of course they did. The meal was delicious. And everything went off perfectly. Susan looked a dream, didn’t she?”

“Do you think so?” Mrs. Lawford beamed with motherly pride. “I must say, I thought she looked really lovely. She and Frank have gone back to the house to change. I’m hoping they’ll be able to slip away unobserved. You know how it is.”

“That’s what I’m planning to do, too,” remarked Darrell dryly, indicating the hat in her hand. “My hair’s coming loose, and this dress is beginning to annoy me.”

“Oh, but you looked lovely, dear. You have such pretty colouring. And your hair always looks nicer, loose about your shoulders.” She gave an encompassing look around her. “You are coming over this evening, aren’t you? I’m expecting you to. The boys will be there, and Evelyn and Jennifer and their husbands. Matt’s staying over, too. Have you met Matt yet?”

“Oh – y-yes.” Darrell’s fingers tortured the brim of the boater. “I was talking to him a few moments ago.”

“Were you, dear?” Mrs. Lawford wasn’t really listening to her. She clicked her tongue impatiently. “Oh – there’s Celine sitting over there looking as if butter wouldn’t melt in her mouth! Why doesn’t she try to join in the fun? She’s done her best to spoil the day!”

“I expect she feels out of place,” murmured Darrell, unconsciously allaying a little of the guilt she felt about her attraction to Matthew, by defending his wife. “She doesn’t come from Sedgeley, does she?”

“Heavens, no.” Mrs. Lawford made a gesture of negation. “She was Celine Galbraith before she married Matt. Her father’s an important man in the city, and the family own some estate in Wiltshire. Thinks herself too good for the likes of us, she does.”

“Oh, Mrs. Lawford …”

“Don’t you think so?”

Darrell shrugged awkwardly. “It’s not for me to say.”

Mrs. Lawford’s sniff was expressive. “Well, how about you coming over and having a word with her? Perhaps she’ll take to you – you being from the south, like.”

Darrell wanted to demur, but Mrs. Lawford was already moving away and she had, perforce, to follow her. Celine looked up languidly at their approach, her expression mirroring her boredom at the proceedings.

“There now, Celine,” exclaimed Mrs. Lawford comfortably. “I’ve brought someone to see you. This is Darrell Anderson, Susan’s friend from the hospital. They’re nurses together.”

“Isn’t that nice?” Celine drawled sardonically, looking up at Darrell without enthusiasm. Close to, Darrell could see the fine lines of dissipation about Celine’s eyes, and a certain nervous agitation in the way they darted about. “We were introduced earlier, weren’t we?”

Darrell nodded. “Yes. At the house. Before the wedding.”

“Ah, yes.” Celine’s lips curled as her mother-in-law moved away. “You don’t come from around here, do you?”

“No, I’m afraid not. I was born in Essex. In Upminster, actually. Do you know it?”

“Do I not! Civilised country!” Celine uttered a short laugh. “Don’t be afraid to tell anyone, my dear. Who’d want to come from around here anyway?”

“I like it,” defended Darrell at once. “I love the north. It’s so much – cleaner, for one thing.”

“Cleaner! Sedgeley?” Celine shook her head pityingly. “You can’t be serious!”

“I am. You don’t get the diesel fumes up here that you get in and around London. Besides, there’s more room to breathe – to live!”

Celine’s mouth twisted cynically. “I can see they’ve got to you all right.”

“No one’s got to me. I mean it. I really like it here.”

“Well, sit down,” Celine invited, patting the wooden seat beside hers. “At least we can talk about somewhere else, even if you don’t find Sedgeley a pain in the neck.”

“I’m afraid I can’t do that.” Darrell had no desire to prolong this tête-à-tête. “I’m leaving now. I want to go home and change. Mrs. Lawford has invited me over to the house this evening.”

“Oh, lord!” Celine uttered a groan of dismay. “The family get-together! Oh, God, why can’t Matthew take me back to London tonight?”

There was no answer Darrell could make to this and with a faint smile she began to move away. But Celine got to her feet and halted her with: “Where do you live?”

Darrell hesitated. “Susan and I used to share a flat near the hospital. I’m keeping it on until I can find someone else to share.”

“The hospital?” Celine frowned. “Is that near here?”

“No. It’s on the outskirts of Sedgeley. At the other side of town.”

“Is it?” Celine sounded interested. “And do you have your own transport?’

“Well – no,” Darrell answered reluctantly. “I – I came with one of the doctors and his wife.”

“Very well.” Celine brightened. “I’ll take you home.”

“Oh, no.” Darrell flushed uncomfortably. She had somehow known this was coming. “That is – it’s not necessary, Mrs. Lawford.”

“Damn it, I know it’s not.” Celine made an irritated gesture. “I just need an excuse to get away from Matthew’s family for a while, that’s all. You can make me a decent cup of coffee, and then I can bring you back again. How’s that?”

Darrell sighed, looking round helplessly. What could she say? That she had already refused Celine’s husband’s offer to take her home? That she had no desire to spend time with the wife of a man who she felt could quite easily disrupt the peace and tranquillity of her hitherto organised existence?

To her intense relief she saw Matthew Lawford coming towards them, accompanied by his elder sister, Evelyn. Darrell had learned that although Matthew was the eldest of the five sons, he had two older sisters. He moved with indolent grace through the thronging groups of friends and relatives, exchanging a word here and there, laughing at some remark passed to him, and making some equally amusing comment in return, judging from the loud guffaws that followed him. Darrell guessed they were the usual lewd jokes made at weddings everywhere, but Celine was looking distinctly out of humour.

Reaching his wife and Darrell, Matthew glanced at each of them in turn, his brows lifted interrogatively. “Have you two been getting to know one another?”

“We’re just leaving, actually,” returned Celine, before Darrell could say anything. “I’ve offered to run Susan’s friend home. You have no objections to me taking the car, do you?”

Matthew’s eyes probed Darrell’s, and she could feel herself going hot all over. “I – I’ve just been explaining to your wife that Doctor Morrison is taking me home,” she defended herself, and Evelyn smiled.

“There’s no need for you to bother, Celine,” she put in calmly. “Jeff’s been wanting the chance to get Darrell to himself for the past six months. I’m sure he’d jump at the chance of taking her home.”

“But – “ began Darrell, only to be silenced by Celine stalking off and leaving them all wrapped in a moment’s pregnant silence.

Matthew seemed the least affected by the embarrassment that followed. “Well,” he mused, “you appear to have lost that opportunity,” and Evelyn’s lips twitched uncontrollably.

“Oh, Matt!” she exclaimed. Then she looked at Darrell. “Come along, Darrell. If the worst comes to the worst, I can always take you home.”

Darrell was beginning to feel like an unnecessary encumbrance, but she went with Evelyn, mainly because she wanted to avoid being alone with Matthew Lawford. She was sure his eyes followed their progress across the marquee and consequently she stumbled and would have fallen had not a hand reached out and saved her. She looked up gratefully into Elizabeth Morrison’s smiling face.

“So there you are, Darrell,” the doctor’s wife exclaimed. “Adrian’s looking for you. We’re leaving now.”

Evelyn halted and turned. “You are, Mrs. Morrison?” She looked at Darrell. “Well, isn’t that a coincidence?”

Darrell nodded with relief. A coincidence indeed!

The flat was cool, and felt abnormally empty, which was ridiculous because it at least had not changed. Two bedrooms, living room, kitchen and bathroom, it sounded spacious; but as the two girls had learned the two bedrooms were in effect one large bedroom converted into two, the kitchen was an alcove off the living area, and the bathroom was scarcely big enough to turn round in. Still, in spite of the indifferent furnishings provided by the owners, it was home, but without Susan’s irritating clutter it was empty.

Darrell stripped off the long coffee-coloured gown, and examined the hem, determinedly keeping her thoughts on the mundane matters. Apart from several mud stains which would possibly brush off when they were completely dry, it was in reasonable order and she was relieved. Her mother had bought her the dress for her last birthday, and she would have hated to have faced her wrath if the dress had been permanently marked.

Pulling on a housecoat, she went into the tiny kitchen and switched on the kettle. A cup of tea was what she needed after all that wine. A cup of tea and several quiet minutes to compose herself for the evening’s festivities ahead of her. Perhaps she could ring and excuse herself, she thought doubtfully. She could always invent a headache. But the recollection of Celine’s attitude towards the Lawford family made her think again.

Mrs. Lawford would be terribly disappointed if she failed to put in an appearance. Perhaps she would imagine that she, Darrell, felt out of place in such partisan society. Which wouldn’t be true. Darrell had always enjoyed her visit to the Lawford house. They had always made her feel so welcome, encompassing her in the kind of family atmosphere she had never experienced with her own parents.

The kettle boiled and she made the tea, carrying the tray through to the living room and setting it down on a low table beside the couch. As she poured the tea, she reflected that it was hardly surprising that she had never known what it was like to be part of a family. Her parents had divorced when she was seven years old, which at the time had come as a blessed relief after years of listening to her parents quarrelling. Her father had been to blame, or that was her mother’s story and the fact that her father had married again within a year of obtaining the decree had seemed to bear out that theory. Darrell had been too young to judge at that time, and it was only as she had grown older she had begun to appreciate that there were always two sides to every situation. Her father’s second wife was young, younger than her mother had been, and within a few years they had produced two sons who might well have been brothers to Darrell, if her mother had let them. But throughout her childhood, she had jealously guarded her daughter, allowing her to visit her father only rarely, and consequently, by the time Darrell was old enough to judge for herself, her half-brothers had formed their own opinions of her. Delia, her stepmother, had hardened, too, and Darrell did not really feel at home with them. She knew her father regretted this bitterly, but he was naturally more inclined to be loyal to the family he had made.

Darrell’s mother, who had been a designer working for a firm of textile manufacturers at the time of her marriage, had picked up the pieces after the break rather well. She had opened her own interior decorating business, and was now much sought after by her wealthy London clients. Even before her move to Sedgeley, Darrell had grown accustomed to seeing little of her mother, and her own work at the hospital, living in the nurses’ hostel there, had created a gulf which neither of them particularly wished to bridge now.

That was why Darrell had found the Lawfords’ ebullience and generosity so warming and appealing. She had responded to the teasing and bantering and good-natured arguing that went on within the family circle, and she had often wished that she could have had that kind of background instead of being a part of two beings who had each in their own way chosen to live their own lives of which she had no part.

She sighed. Weddings were always a time for sentimentality. She was allowing the emptiness of the flat to get through to her. It was foolish. Sooner or later she would have to find someone else to share the place with her, and that was a prospect she did not relish. She and Susan had got along so well together, and the fact that Susan had been instrumental in finding the flat and suggesting they shared it, had made it more of a mutual arrangement somehow.

Finishing her tea, she got to her feet and walked to the window. It had begun to rain in earnest again, and the sky hung grey and overcast over the houses opposite. Lucky Susan and Frank, off to Majorca. At least it wouldn’t be raining there.

With a grimace, she collected the tray and carried it back into the kitchen. She made herself a sandwich in lieu of an evening meal, and then went to change. She decided to wear a cotton corduroy slack suit and a plain brown shirt. The suit was cream and toned well with her matt complexion. She considered calling a taxi to take her across town because the bus stop was several yards away from the street in which the flat was situated, but it seemed an extravagance, so instead she donned her navy poplin coat and picked up her umbrella.

She ran to the end of the road and fortunately caught a bus almost immediately. Jolting along through Sedgeley town centre, she reflected wryly that had she accepted Celine Lawford’s offer of a lift she would have avoided all this. But at what cost? What on earth would they have talked about?

The bus deposited her in the market place, and from there she had to catch another bus out to Windsor Street. This time she was not so lucky and spent fifteen minutes standing in the bus shelter waiting for the connection.

It was after eight by the time she was walking up Windsor Street to the Lawfords’ house, but she could hear the sounds of merriment before she reached their door. The record player was going full blast, and there was the sound of raised voices and laughter. For a moment she hung back, half deterred at the thought of so many strangers. Although she knew Susan’s immediate family, she did not know all the aunts and uncles, cousins and in-laws that constituted the whole Lawford clan, and she was an outsider, after all.

But then the door opened and Penny Lawford was standing smiling at her, her brother Jeff jostling for a position behind her.

“Come on in, Darrell,” she exclaimed, stepping back on to Jeff’s foot and grimacing at his agonised protest. “We were beginning to wonder whether you were going to make it. Take your coat off. You’re soaked!”

Within minutes, Darrell was engulfed into the family circle, a glass of something strong and warming was pressed into her hand and she was thrust into the lounge which seemed to be overflowing with people.

Jeff limped after her, rubbing his ankle. “I’m glad you came, Darrell,” he said, and she knew he meant it.

“Did Susan and Frank get away without too much fuss?” she asked, trying not to be aware that there was no sign of either Matthew Lawford or his wife.

“Well, Matt’s taken them to Leeds,” Jeff explained, pulling the tab off a can of beer and raising it to his lips. “Mike and I managed to fill Frank’s pyjama legs full of confetti, but that was last night. I don’t think he would open the case to check on them this morning. He had quite a hangover after last night’s little celebration.” He grinned reminiscently.

“Oh, Jeff!” Darrell could well imagine Susan’s consternation if Frank pulled out his pyjamas and emptied their contents all over their bedroom floor in the hotel at Porto Cristo. “What a rotten thing to do!”

Jeff chuckled. “It’s expected. And our Susan was too fly to leave her cases lying around. She locked them up last night, do you know that? Slept with the key of the cupboard under her pillow!”

“Good for Susan!” Darrell sipped her drink and then gasped as the fiery spirit burned the back of her throat. “What is this?”

Jeff put his head on one side. “Well, it’s supposed to be punch – Dad’s style. I believe it’s a mixture of whisky, rum, brandy and vodka.”

“I don’t believe you.”

Jeff shrugged. “Please yourself. Knowing Dad, that’s likely to be a conservative estimate.”

Darrell smiled in answer to a greeting called to her across the room from Mrs. Lawford and took another sip of the fiery mixture. “Ugh!” She shivered. “I can’t drink this. It’s – horrible!”

Jeff raised his eyebrows mockingly. “Don’t let Dad hear you say that.”

“Why not? I’ve noticed that all he drinks is beer – like you.”

“Punch isn’t a man’s tipple.”

“And beer is, I suppose?”

Jeff nodded, finishing the can in his hand. “Come on, let’s dance.”

The Lawfords’ home was a rambling old terrace house which Mr. Lawford and his sons had converted by knocking down walls and putting in central heating. Consequently, the lounge now stretched from the front to the back of the property and was big enough to accommodate the rapidly expanding needs of the family. Tonight, a space had been cleared at the end for dancing, and several couples were already abandoning themselves to the beat music when Darrell allowed Jeff to propel her to join them. She had been glad to dispose of her drink on to a side table and determined not to be duped into drinking any more punch.

It was hot, and after a few minutes Darrell had to stop to take off her jacket and unfasten the top couple of buttons of her blouse. She had left her hair loose this evening, but now she wished she had at least brought an elastic band to lift it off her neck.

“Where’s Celine?” she managed to ask Jeff in one of the intervals between records, and he shrugged, glancing round indifferently.

“I don’t know,” he replied. “She wanted to go with Matt and the others, but there wasn’t room in the car and she wasn’t suited.”

“There wasn’t room in the car …?” Darrell looked confused. “Why? What sort of car was it?”

“Oh, it’s a big B.M.W.,” remarked Jeff enviously. “But all the kids wanted to go. You know. Evelyn’s two and our Jennifer’s Christine. They wanted to go out to the airport, so Matt said they could.”

“I see,” Darrell nodded.

“Anyway, they should have been back by now. They’d have been here already, but the flight was delayed an hour. One of those last-minute hitches. Hey – I made a pun! Did you notice that? A hitch for the hitched!”

He laughed and Penny and her boy-friend and one or two of the others who had been dancing came to see what was so funny. There was a lot of goodnatured chaffing going on and Darrell turned away, raising her arms to tug her fingers through her tangled hair. The effort tautened the material of her shirt across her breasts, although she was unaware of it, but as she stood there straightening her arms into a stretch she became aware of the group of young people just entering the lounge, and over their heads her eyes encountered the dark eyes of Matthew Lawford. There was a disturbing moment when he held her gaze, and then she turned abruptly away, catching Jeff’s arm and saying: “I thought you asked me to dance!”