Читать книгу Past All Forgetting - Сара Крейвен, Sara Craven - Страница 6

JANNA shut her bedroom door and sank down on the bed with a heartfelt sigh of relief. Her head was throbbing painfully, and her confused state of emotion, coupled with apprehension, had made her feel physically sick.

She did not know how she had managed to get through the afternoon with a semblance of normality. She had sat in the darkened hall with her class, watching the film show with unseeing eyes, laughing obediently when everyone else did at the technicoloured cavortings without the slightest realisation of what was going on. Luckily the Walt Disney adventure and the cartoons which preceded it had occupied everyone else’s attention, so Janna’s wan appearance and tightly gripped hands passed unnoticed.

Her mother, however, was not so easily to be put off. She had watched with puckered brows while Janna pushed her evening meal, uneaten, round her plate, but had accepted her halting explanation that she thought she might be starting a migraine. Mrs Prentiss had been a migraine sufferer all her life and was always eagle-eyed to detect incipient signs of it in anyone close to her. She had tutted distressedly over Janna, pressed some painkillers on her, and recommended that she lie down in her darkened room. Janna was thankful to accept the medicine and the advice.

Now that she was alone, at least she did not have to pretend any more. She turned and lay full-length on her stomach across the bed, pillowing her chin on her folded arms.

Rian Tempest was back in Carrisford. After all these years without a sign, a word even, he had returned, and now her peace of mind had gone for ever.

She closed her eyes, trying to erase from her mind the memory of that long look he had given her before he had driven off. It had emphasised more clearly than words could do that he had not forgotten anything which had passed between them seven years before. Not forgotten—and not forgiven either. But what else did she expect? What she had done to Rian was unforgivable. She had always known that.

She shivered, pressing her body further into the yielding softness of the eiderdown as if she was seeking some kind of sanctuary. When she had been a child, and there had been some small disaster to be faced, it had always been a comfort to drag the bedclothes round her—even over her head—and tell herself that no one would ever find her now.

Yet Rian had found her, she thought, as she had always feared that he would even with the false sense of security the passing years had given her.

But why had he come back? she asked herself almost despairingly. Now that his aunt and uncle were both dead and he must know for certain that the house and estate were not his, what was there to draw him back to Carrisford? The possibilities that suggested themselves were too disturbing to contemplate.

She turned restlessly on to her side, wishing for the first time in her life that she had a sleeping tablet. Something that would blot out thinking and reasoning—and above all remembering for a few hours. The adult equivalent of drawing the bedclothes over one’s head, she told herself wryly.

What did he intend? she asked herself, but no immediate answer was forthcoming. Rian had always been totally unpredictable, she thought. That was why she had continued to pursue him, confident that he was not as impervious to her as he had tried to maintain. She had the memory of his reaction to her while she had been in his arms to buoy up her hopes as well. He might have spoken of his own indifference, but his body had betrayed him with its instinctive response to her proximity. And there was an element of challenge in the affair now. She would make him admit that he wanted her, in deed as well as word. She would make him grovel.

Janna gave a groan and buried her face in her hands. Why, oh, why had she been so sure she could do so, when all the evidence suggested the contrary? God knew she had received fair warning, so she could blame no one for what had happened subsequently but herself.

She had seen little of Rian in the week following the dance, do what she might. It had been during this time that she had paid her abortive visit to Carrisbeck House with the parish magazines, she recalled with a pang. But he seemed to be avoiding his usual haunts, or at least avoiding her while she was there, and she had to be content with a couple of unsatisfactory glimpses of him driving his car, once with Barbara Kenton’s blonde head conspicuously close to his dark one.

Her obsession was beginning to be noticed by her friends, and a few sly hints were dropped, which she ignored in spite of the feelings raging inside her. Geoff Christie, whom she had been dating in a desultory manner before Rian’s return, soon became peeved at her indifference and began taking out one of her friends. From being the centre of attention, Janna began to find that she was now becoming an outsider among her contemporaries, but she told herself defiantly that she did not care. If she was lonely, then she had chosen to be so, and anyway nothing mattered except Rian.

Her schoolwork began to suffer, and she found herself the target for tart remarks from her teachers, who could not understand why such a previously bright and interested girl had suddenly become such an introspective dreamer. She could not sleep either. Many nights she lay awake for hours, tormented by feelings that she could only dimly comprehend. It was a warm summer, so she was able to blame the heat for her sleeplessness and shadowed eyes. There were even nights when she let herself quietly out of the sleeping house and walked through the silent streets, through the town and up into the hills, encountering nothing more than a few startled sheep. Except once.

Janna rolled on to her back and stared up at the ceiling as she remembered that particular night. As it happened, she had not been for one of her solitary walks. She had been visiting a girl friend whose parents owned a farm a few miles up the dale from Carrisford, and she was cycling back rather later than she had intended. She was not worried about it. Her parents would probably think she was spending the night at Marion’s as she had done in the past, she reassured herself.

She came across the Carrisbeck bridge and slowed for the bend, when she noticed a car pulled off the road and into the shelter of the trees which crowded to the edge of the highway. She recognised it instantly, even though its lights were off, and checked.

Her first thought was that Rian might be in the wood with Barbara, and she had to suppress a pang of jealous anger, but reason prevailed, pointing out that this particular clump of trees was hardly an appropriate place for a lovers’ tryst. It was far too near the river for one thing, and invariably damp. So what was he up to? she wondered. She got off her bike and wheeled it to the side of the road, depositing it near Rian’s car, then set off down the narrow muddy track which was all that constituted a path. There was no sound of voices, however hushed, just the distant murmur of the river and closer at hand the heart-thudding cry of an owl just above her head.

Janna expelled her breath in a slow sigh of sheer fright, then went cautiously on.

She paused as she emerged from the trees where the ground fell away sharply to the river bank below, and a mischievous smile curved her lips. The river at this point was wide, and the current deep and sluggish. It was one of the places recognised locally as being safe for bathing, and Rian, she saw, was taking full advantage of the fact. Against the silvery sheen of the water, his hair looked black and gleaming, and she could see the long lithe turn of his body as he moved easily through the water.

She slithered down on to the bank, found what she was looking for—his clothes in a neat pile—and sat on them demurely, waiting for him to notice her. But somewhat to her pique, he was obviously too absorbed in his own pleasure to notice he had company, and eventually she was obliged to draw his attention to the fact by clearing her throat noisily.

He dived under the water and came up a few feet from the bank, treading water, and shaking the drops from his face and hair.

‘Janna,’ he said resignedly. ‘What the hell are you doing here?’

‘You’re not the only person who gets the urge to go moonlight bathing,’ she said sweetly. ‘Wouldn’t you like some company?’

‘No, I wouldn’t,’ he said with an air of restraint. ‘Be a good girl and push off—please.’

She pouted, triumphantly aware that she had the whip hand for once. ‘It’s a free country,’ she pointed out. ‘And this is one of my favourite spots. Nor is it part of your uncle’s estate. You can’t make me go.’

‘No, I can’t,’ he acknowledged. ‘I hoped I wouldn’t have to, and that asking you nicely might be enough.’

‘Oh, but it isn’t,’ she said, and smiled. ‘Now if you asked me nicely to stay—that might be different.’

‘Indeed it might,’ he said drily. ‘And what’s my next line? Come on in—the water’s fine?’

‘Thank you for the kind invitation,’ she said, studiedly polite. ‘But it may have escaped your attention that I haven’t brought my swimsuit with me.’

‘No.’ He swam in a wide circle. ‘Just as I’m sure it hasn’t escaped your attention that I haven’t brought mine either.’

Not for the world would she have admitted that it had not occurred to her.

‘Oh, but that doesn’t matter,’ she said with assumed nonchalance, thankful that the darkness hid her warm cheeks. ‘And—and I do know what a naked man looks like, you know.’

‘In practice, or merely in theory?’ The gleam of his smile mocked her. ‘Janna Joins the Permissive Society, and other titles. I suppose it makes a change from the Pony Club.’

‘Very amusing,’ she said calmly. ‘Have you heard the one about having the last laugh? It can’t be getting any warmer in that water, and I happen to be sitting on your clothes. All of them.’

‘Right on all counts,’ he agreed reflectively. ‘The situation is a little one-sided, I must admit.’ He swam round again, this time coming right up to the bank. ‘All right, Janna, I resign. Why not join me? It’s a very warm night, and I promise to turn my back like a gentleman if that’s what you’re waiting for.’

She wasn’t altogether certain what she was waiting for. She moistened her lips rather nervously. Dreams and imaginings were one thing; having them translated into quite such realistic terms as a moonlight bathing party for two in the nude, quite another.

‘What’s the matter, Janna?’ She couldn’t see the expression on Rian’s face, but the taunt in his tone was unmistakable. ‘Chicken?’

‘Certainly not,’ she said untruthfully. ‘It—it just looks a bit cold, that’s all.’

He laughed softly. ‘I’ll think of a way of keeping you warm, sweet witch.’

There had to be an answer to that, but Janna couldn’t think of it for the life of her. Her mouth was suddenly dry, and she was trembling violently inside. One part of her wanted, childishly, to run, but another, more insidious voice was persuading her to remain.

When she spoke, her voice was higher than usual and oddly breathless.

‘All right,’ she said. She got up slowly, shivering a little although there was barely a hint of a breeze. The water rippled glossily as Rian swam one long, lazy stroke nearer. Her fingers, made suddenly clumsy, hesitated on the buttons of her shirt.

‘You said you’d turn your back,’ she reminded him lamely.

‘If that’s what you want.’ There was a warm persuasive note in his voice, which made her gasp as if he had caressed her. ‘Is it, lovely Janna?’

She had taken two unwary steps towards him before she realised the trap that had been set for her. Steely fingers, cold and wet, clamped round her ankle. Off balance already, she stumbled, and within a second she was flying through the air, or so it seemed, to land in the water in an undignified and painful belly-flop. She came back to the surface, winded and choking, having swallowed half the river in her astonishment.

On the bank, Rian was fastening the belt of his jeans and observing her flounderings with sardonic amusement.

‘I don’t think you’ll ever make the Olympic squad,’ he observed, judicially, pulling his dark sweater over his head. ‘But the local life-saving team might be glad of a volunteer. I’ve heard they prefer them fully dressed.’

‘You bastard!’ she screamed at him.

‘Such language from one so young,’ he said reprovingly. ‘If it’s any consolation to you, I was tempted for a while, and I’m warning you, Janna, stay in your own league from now on.’ He half turned to go. ‘And I meant what I said about keeping you warm. I don’t know how you got here, and I don’t care much. I presume you cycled, or walked, so you can get home the same way—only faster. It’s a balmy enough night. You shouldn’t even catch cold.’ He was gone.

Janna hauled herself out of the water and heard his car engine start up in the distance. Tears of rage and humiliation mingled with the drops of water on her face, as she stood dripping and bedraggled on the bank. She would never forgive him, she swore savagely to herself. And she would make him pay for this if it was the last thing she did.

She was walking round the market a few days later and had stopped to examine some remnants of material on a stall, when a hand descended on her arm and Rian’s voice close to her ear said, ‘None the worse for your ducking, I see.’

She wrenched herself forcibly free, and gave him a wrathful look.

‘No thanks to you,’ she said distinctly. ‘I might have drowned—or gone down with pneumonia.’

‘Hardly,’ he said drily. ‘I was sure somehow you’d manage to survive, Janna.’

‘Thank you.’ Her tone held bitterness. ‘I know better than to regard that as a compliment.’

He sighed. ‘Is that what you want—compliments?’

She stared down at her feet. ‘You know what I want,’ she muttered at last. ‘I want you to treat me as if I was a woman.’

‘Then stop behaving like a child,’ he said, but his voice was gentler and held a trace of laughter. ‘How old are you, Janna?’

‘I shall be seventeen in just over two weeks’ time.’ She sent him a hostile look. ‘I suppose to you I’m sixteen.’

‘Stop supposing,’ he said patiently. ‘Come and have coffee with me instead.’

‘Are you serious?’ she asked incredulously.

‘I think so.’ There was an edge to his voice. ‘It’s only a hot drink I’m offering, not an invitation to bed.’

She flushed indignantly and he gave a slight groan. ‘God help me, this was meant to be a peace move, not a resumption of hostilities. Come and have coffee, Janna.’ His thumb moved caressingly on the soft flesh of her arm, sending a pleasant tingle through her senses. He grinned at her and she thought furiously that he probably knew quite well the effect that his casual touch was having on her.

He pulled her arm through his and led her off through the market-day crowds. The town’s most popular café was situated in rooms at the rear of the baker’s shop, and they lingered to make a selection of cream cakes at the counter before continuing to the rear and finding an unoccupied corner table.

‘Well, this is pleasant.’ Rian pushed the sugar bowl towards her.

She helped herself to a spoonful, her lips compressed.

‘Please don’t patronise me,’ she said eventually.

‘Nothing was further from my thoughts,’ he returned mildly. ‘Don’t be so prickly, Janna.’

She stirred the spoon round the cup, watching the swirl of the liquid. ‘Can you blame me?’

‘Not altogether, perhaps, otherwise I shouldn’t be here.’ He reached his hand across the table and clasped hers lightly. ‘Pax, sweet witch. I can’t be your lover, but I could be your friend, if you’d let me.’

‘On the grounds that half a loaf is better than no bread at all?’ She gave him a defiant look. ‘Is it really so impossible? Funnily enough, I got the distinct impression that you fancied me.’

‘I plead guilty as charged,’ he said slowly. He released her hand and sat back in his chair. ‘Janna, you may well be counting the hours to your seventeenth birthday, but I was going through the same process ten years ago. There’s no way around that.’

‘Ten years isn’t such a tremendous gap.’

‘At this precise moment, it seems a lifetime.’ He drank some of the coffee, grimaced slightly and pushed it aside. ‘Apart from anything else, did no one ever tell you that sometimes the man prefers to make the running?’

She blushed vividly. ‘I just wanted you to notice me,’ she claimed in a low voice.

‘As if anyone with normal faculties could possibly overlook you!’ He gave her a wry look. ‘You’re a spectacular lass, Janna. If you were a few years older, you’d have to fight me off.’

‘That’s a great comfort,’ she said past the lump in her throat. ‘I think I’d better go. Thanks for the coffee.’

‘Oh, hell.’ He pushed a hand through his dark hair. ‘This is not turning out at all as I expected.’

‘Does anything ever?’ She picked up her leather shoulder bag and rose. She walked to the doorway through the clustering tables and disappeared, oblivious of the curious stares being cast in her direction from all over the room.

Janna climbed wearily off the bed and padded across the room to the window. She dragged the curtains shut with jerky movements, closing out the darkness.

She glanced restlessly around her. Her briefcase stood beside the desk in the corner. It contained her record book, among other things. She could check on her syllabus, plan her work for next half-term. Anything would be better than this constant retrospection, yet she doubted her ability to concentrate on anything more than her personal problems. Wherever she looked, Rian’s face seemed to be imprinted on her vision, dark and vengeful.

She started as the sound of the doorbell pealed through the house, and for one crazy moment, panic filled her. Then common sense came to her rescue and she told herself that it might well be visitors for her parents. But a minute or two later there was a light tap on the door and Mrs Prentiss peeped in at her.

Her brows rose a little as she saw that Janna was neither undressed nor in bed.

‘Vivien’s downstairs, dear. I told her you might be asleep …’ Her voice tailed away questioningly, and Janna forced a smile.

‘I feel much better, actually. I’ll come down.’

Vivien was waiting in the sitting room. ‘Poor old thing,’ she exclaimed sympathetically as Janna entered. ‘I didn’t know you were a migraine sufferer. How rotten! Yet I thought you looked rather peaky when you dashed off after school.’ She delved in her handbag and produced an envelope. ‘That’s why I’m here, really. What with you being out at lunch time, and then the films, Mrs Parsons didn’t get a chance to have a word with you, so she’s written you this note instead.’

‘Note?’ Janna took it, wrinkling her brow. ‘This is all very official. What is it? The sack?’

‘Hardly.’ Vivien grinned at her. ‘Of course, I was forgetting that you’d missed all the excitement at lunchtime. We’re going to have a new pupil—a little girl—and Mrs P. is putting her in your class.’

‘That’s hardly my idea of excitement,’ Janna said dryly. ‘What is she? A second Einstein?’

Vivien shrugged. ‘Who knows? Apparently she’s part Vietnamese—on her mother’s side. She has this enormously long name which means Flower of Morning—rather pretty, don’t you think?—but her father calls her Fleur.’

Janna paused in the act of tearing open the envelope. Her eyes flew to Vivien’s face with sudden, painful intensity. ‘Her father—do you mean he is European?’

‘And how,’ Vivien said cheerfully. ‘In fact you probably know him. Beth and Lorna do, anyway, and they were very impressed. Apparently his uncle used to live hereabouts some years ago. And even Bill’s heard of the nephew—Rian Tempest. Says he’s some kind of high-pressure journalist. Whenever trouble flares up anywhere in the world, he’s the first correspondent to be parachuted in and all that. Rather him than me, that’s all I can say.’

Janna lowered her gaze to her note, but Mrs Parsons’ neat handwriting danced madly in front of her eyes.

‘Do you remember him, Janna?’ Vivien persisted.

‘Possibly.’ Janna was amazed to hear how calm she sounded. ‘But I—I don’t remember him being married. How old is the little girl?’

‘Seven-ish, I suppose. She’d have to be, for your class. And bright for her age—but then all proud dads think that.’

‘I suppose they do,’ Janna said automatically, her brain whirling.

‘As for him being married,’ Vivien’s voice lowered confidentially, ‘Mrs Parson got the impression that the least said about that the better. I think it was one of these wartime things where no one worried about an actual ceremony.’

‘I see,’ Janna said bleakly.

Vivien’s eyebrows rose slightly. ‘Don’t look now, but your disapproval’s showing,’ she said.

Janna shook her head. ‘It isn’t entirely that,’ she tried to justify herself. ‘I was just thinking about Colonel and Mrs Tempest. About how they would have felt—if they’d known.’

Vivien looked at her shrewdly. ‘Perhaps they would have reacted more tolerantly than you suppose,’ she said. ‘Older people are often less extreme in their attitudes than they’re given credit for.’

Janna sat down on the edge of the sofa, the unread note still clutched in her hand. ‘From what I remember of them, I hardly think so.’ She tried to sound casual. ‘I think they were both concerned about the apparent decline in moral standards. Neither of them had any sympathy for promiscuity …’

‘Hold hard!’ Vivien sounded a little startled. ‘Neither of us knows the true facts. We could be condemning as promiscuous one stable relationship. The fact that there’s a child for whom he has assumed the responsibility must surely prove that the affair was deeper than a one-night stand.’ She laughed a little uncertainly. ‘I don’t know why I’ve been picked for the role of Devil’s advocate. I believe in marriage, and I’m sure it’s the only successful environment for bringing up children. It’s just that I’m surprised to hear someone as young as you sounding so—so …’

‘Intolerant?’ Janna supplied rather dryly. ‘Well, perhaps I am. I—I just feel so sorry for this little girl, that’s all.’ She read her note quickly. ‘Mrs Parsons thinks she may need extra tuition. She says here there may be a language problem. That Fleur is more fluent in French than in English.’ She gave a little groan of dismay. ‘That’s all I need—a multi-lingual tot!’

Vivien grinned. ‘Let her teach the others French,’ she suggested, fastening the belt of her coat. ‘No, love, no coffee, thanks. Bill will be sitting at home right now with his tongue hanging out, waiting to be fed. I dare not keep him waiting any longer, or he’ll start eating the table mats.’

After Vivien had departed, calling a cheerful goodbye to Mrs Prentiss, Janna walked over to the window and stood staring out into the darkness. It seemed that all her worst forebodings were being realised. Rian had returned, and was back to stay, or so it seemed. Why else would he have sought a place for his child in the local primary school if he did not intend putting down roots of some kind?

Yet what was there for him? she asked herself restlessly. He no longer even had a home here. She shook her head wretchedly, trying to imagine his reaction when he discovered who was planning to live in his former home. There was a terrible irony in the situation. She had caused an irreparable breach between Rian and the only family he had in the world, and by doing so had robbed him of his inheritance. Now she herself was to benefit.

A line from a play—Shakespeare? she wondered tiredly—began to beat in her brain. ‘No good can come of this.’

If Rian had simply contemplated a flying visit back to old haunts, she might have been able to bear it. In many ways, she had been half-expecting it. But the thought of him as a permanent resident in Carrisford, observing her comings and goings, watching her living in his family’s house, was not to be borne.

But she would have to bear it unless … for a brief moment she weighed up the chances of persuading Colin to move elsewhere, then dismissed it as madness. If she even suggested such a thing, he would demand, and be entitled to, a full explanation of her motives, and that she did not feel capable of giving. Besides, she knew he would never agree, no matter how convincing her arguments.

Colin, she thought wryly, knew when he was well off. It was unlikely that he would have got so far so fast with any other firm. She paused abruptly, her hand going to her throat in a little frightened gesture as she realised that this was the first time she had ever admitted this to herself. It was one of the uncomfortable thoughts she had always resolutely pushed away to the back of her mind. Now it had surfaced at last, along with all the others, and could never be relegated again. The diamond on her left hand seemed to glint coldly at her and she shivered. The sensation that all her safe, secure world was falling to pieces around her was stronger than ever. So many things she had never allowed herself to think about, and now they were all jostling for utterance. Her dislike for Colin’s father, for instance, with his self-importance and smug satisfaction at his own success, and coupled with this her vague dissatisfaction that Colin had never wanted to cut free and see what he could achieve on his own, without his father’s all-pervading influence.

She turned away from the window, crumpling Mrs Parsons’ note and sending it spinning on to the fire.

I should never have come back here, she thought despairingly. I’m blaming Colin for what I didn’t do myself. I should have struck out on my own. Travelled—I said I always wanted to—taken a job abroad. And unbidden, the traitorous thought came to her mind that she still could.

She groaned aloud. To run away—was that the answer? Once before, she had been a coward, and that was why she was confronted by her present predicament. There was nothing to be gained by running away. She would have to stay and face whatever there was to face. That would be her punishment.

But as she went slowly back upstairs to her room, it chillingly occurred to her that—for Rian—that might not be enough.

It was not a pleasant weekend. On Saturday morning, Janna shopped for her mother, all the time keeping a wary eye open for Rian’s car, but she saw no sign of the vehicle or its occupant.

During the afternoon Colin picked her up, and they went for a drive before returning to his father’s house to have dinner. Sir Robert was in one of his most expansive and self-congratulatory moods, and Janna found she was having to work hard to conceal her irritation. He had pulled off some deal concerning shares, and although she did not fully comprehend the ins and outs of the situation, she did gather that this coup had been at the expense of a business rival, and could not join in Colin’s obvious enthusiasm for his father’s acumen.

When the exquisitely cooked and served meal was over, Sir Robert turned to more personal topics.

‘Now that you’ve found somewhere to live, I suppose you’ll be fixing a date?’

‘Somewhere to live?’ Janna began uncertainly, and Sir Robert, who was lighting a cigar, gave her a sharp look.

‘Why, yes. Colin told me he had first refusal on the old Tempest place. A fine house that. Just what you need. And you’re to have carte blanche in furnishing it. Just choose what you want and send the bills to my secretary. I can’t say fairer than that.’ He sat back with a pleased air, expelling a cloud of smoke, and waiting to be thanked.

Janna swallowed, avoiding Colin’s glance. ‘The thing is—I’m not sure …’ she began again.

‘Not sure about what?’

Janna was uneasily aware that she had Sir Robert’s undivided attention, and that the pleased air had dissipated to some extent. His voice, in fact, held the slight bark which indicated his suspicion that he was about to be told something he did not particularly want to hear. Janna had never personally experienced this before. She had always been treated with a rather fulsome kindness in the past.

Colin came to her rescue as she searched for words.

‘Janna isn’t totally sold on Carrisbeck House,’ he said, sounding deliberately casual.

‘And why not, may I ask?’ Sir Robert glared at the pair of them, his pleasure in the meal and his cigar destroyed by this strange obduracy. ‘It’s a fine property, and the fishing rights go with it. What’s the matter with it, I’d like to know?’

‘Nothing,’ Janna answered desperately. She moistened her lips. ‘You see, I knew the Tempests, and the thought of living in their old home—and the size of the place—rather overwhelms me, that’s all.’

‘Oh.’ Sir Robert digested this for a moment. ‘Well, you’re going to be a Travers, my girl, so you’ll have to learn not to be overwhelmed.’

‘Janna knows that, Dad,’ Colin broke in soothingly. ‘But I don’t want to rush her into anything she’s not happy about, so I’ve given her a few days to come round in her own way.’

‘Fair enough, I suppose.’ Sir Robert sounded slightly mollified. ‘But don’t take weeks over it, lass, or some fly character will be in ahead of you.’

For one moment Janna was tempted to ask Sir Robert if he had known Rian, or if he was aware he was back in the locality, but she remained silent. Any such reference on her part could lead to precisely the sort of cross-examination she most wanted to avoid, she thought.

She spent the evening watching television in a desultory manner while Colin allowed his father to beat him at chess.

Later, as Colin drove her home, she sat quietly beside him, hoping against hope that he would not raise the subject of the house again. But she was disappointed. As the car slid to a halt before her gate, Colin said almost too casually, ‘I shall have to let Barry know about the Tempest place by Monday, Janna. You’d better let me have your decision one way or another tomorrow.’

‘Your father seems to think there’s only one decision to be made,’ she said, trying to smile.

‘Oh, you know Dad.’ He was silent for a minute. ‘Besides, he has rather a vested interest in the place, I’m afraid.’

‘I don’t really see why.’

‘No.’ Colin paused again and then said ruefully, ‘I’ll have to tell you, darling. He’s already had an architect to look at the place and draw up some plans to convert the old stables and garage block into a luxury flat for himself. Says his house is too big now that he’s on his own. Wants to be near us—and his grandchildren.’

Janna’s mouth was suddenly dry. ‘I see.’

‘Do you, darling?’ He drew her into his arms and kissed her, but for the first time in their relationship, she was incapable of more than a token response. ‘I was hoping you would. He’s not getting any younger, after all, and he wouldn’t actually be living with us. Mrs Masham would come with him, to cook for him and look after him generally.’

Janna shook her head. ‘I can see he has it all worked out,’ she said more calmly than she felt.

Inwardly, she was seething with anger. This—this was moral blackmail, she told herself. If she turned Carrisbeck House down now, it would seem as if she was doing it because she did not want her future father-in-law living on the premises. She bit her lip. She had been surprised by the uncharacteristic generosity of his offer to furnish the house. Sir Robert had never believed in throwing what he termed ‘good brass’ about on anything which did not directly concern himself or his own comfort. Now she understood the motive behind the offer, she would rather live with bare boards and orange boxes than accept, she thought, her temper mounting.

‘Janna?’ Colin’s voice was questioning, his mouth persuasive against her ear. ‘You wouldn’t really mind, would you, darling? An old man’s whim? He may not even go through with it. And he’s very fond of you, you know.’

She gave an edged smile, disengaging herself from his arms. ‘I’ll take your word for it,’ she answered quietly. ‘I won’t pretend that this hasn’t been a shock, Colin. I had no idea your father was thinking along these lines … However, you’d better go along with the purchase, as it’s what you both want.’

‘But you have to want it too.’ He turned her face to his, his eyes searching hers worriedly.

‘I’ve agreed, haven’t I?’ she said steadily. ‘I won’t go back on it.’

‘I know you won’t.’ He took her hand and carried it to his lips. ‘That’s one of the wonderful things about you, Janna. You’re so dependable.’

‘Or so predictable?’ she questioned dryly. ‘I didn’t used to be like that Colin. Beware, I might revert to type.’

He laughed, relieved at the apparent lightening of the atmosphere between them. ‘I don’t think there’s much chance of that,’ he said carelessly. He kissed her again. ‘Goodnight, my love, and dream of me.’

Mrs Prentiss was alone in the sitting room watching a horror film on television as Janna let herself in.

‘Hallo, dear, had a nice evening?’ she queried automatically as her daughter entered the room, and without a pause, ‘I can’t understand these people at all, Janna. The villagers have warned them to stay away from the castle, and yet they’re all going to spend the night there. It beats me why they’re so daft.’

‘Why do you watch it then, if that’s what you feel?’ Janna sat down beside her mother and cast a tolerant eye at the cobwebbed horrors being depicted on the screen.

‘I love Christopher Lee,’ Mrs Prentiss confessed, reaching for another peppermint cream.

Janna had to smile in spite of herself. She forced herself to sit and watch as the heroine’s friend succumbed to the vampire’s lure, then, trying to sound casual, she said, ‘Mum, when you were engaged, did you have—doubts?’

Mrs Prentiss wrenched her attention away from the bloodstained goings-on in front of her with an obvious effort. ‘About your dad?’ she exclaimed. ‘I don’t think so. Why do you ask?’

‘No reason,’ Janna said uncomfortably. ‘I’m just—interested, that’s all.’

Her mother surveyed her. ‘Are you having second thoughts about marrying Colin?’ she demanded. ‘Because, if so, you want your head seeing to. The trouble with young people today is that you want everything perfect all the time. You’re not prepared to work at a relationship. Have you quarrelled?’

‘Oh, no!’ Janna was aghast. ‘Please, Mum, let’s drop the subject.’

‘Well, you raised it in the first place,’ Mrs Prentiss pointed out reasonably. She leaned forward and switched off the television set. ‘Now, let’s have this out. Are you having second thoughts about Colin, and if you are, why?’

Janna bit her lip. ‘It’s nothing as definite as that,’ she said miserably. Swiftly she told her mother about Colin’s wish to buy Carrisbeck House, and Sir Robert’s plan to live in the stable block.

Her mother seemed unimpressed, however. ‘It’s a modern thing, this wanting to live away from your family,’ she remarked. ‘When I was a girl, people had their parents to live with them and thought nothing about it. And he won’t actually be in the house. I don’t see what you’re making all the fuss about. Colin is all he’s got, after all, and for all his money, he’s a lonely man, I daresay.’

‘You think I’m being selfish,’ Janna said forlornly.

‘Not altogether, but I think you’re crossing your bridges before you come to them,’ Mrs Prentiss said bracingly. ‘As Colin said, he may change his mind. And it’s a lovely house. There was a time when we couldn’t keep you away from there. Not many young people have a chance to start their married life in those circumstances, you know. Look at it from Colin’s point of view. And what have you got against the place, anyway?’

It would have been an immense consolation to put her head down on her mother’s lap and sob out the whole wretched truth, but Janna could not permit herself that indulgence. Her mother did not deserve to be upset like that after all this time, she thought wearily. The time for confession was long past.

She forced a smile and rose to her feet. ‘Nothing, of course. You’re right, Mum, I’m sure you are. It’s just bridal nerves, I suppose.’ She bent and kissed her swiftly. ‘Now watch the rest of your film. I’m going to bed before I get nightmares!’

She had not arranged to see Colin on Sunday, and spent a quiet day, lazing round the house, acting her normal self for all she was worth, conscious of the occasional worried glance from her mother. She slept badly that night and rose late on Monday morning, feeling as if she had not rested at all. She was helping her mother strip the beds ready for the weekly wash, when the phone rang.

‘Colin?’ she said in surprised response to the terse tones at the other end of the line. ‘What a strange time to ring. Is anything wrong?’

‘Oh, no.’ Colin’s voice was heavy with sarcasm. ‘Everything is for the best in this best of all possible worlds. I just thought you’d like to know that the supreme sacrifice will not be demanded from you after all.’

‘What are you talking about?’

‘You won’t have to live in Carrisbeck House, my sweet. It’s been snapped up by someone else while you were dithering about last Friday.’ His voice sharpened. ‘Hello—Janna—are you still there?’

‘Yes, I’m still here,’ she managed. ‘Colin, I don’t know what to say. I’m so sorry. I know how you’d set your heart on it. Do you know—have you any idea who it is?’

‘Of course I know.’ He gave a short, savage laugh. ‘It’s in safe hands, darling. Back safely in the bosom of the Tempest family, just as you secretly wished. The Colonel’s nephew—Rian or whatever his damned name is—has come back, and he’s bought it.’