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“Will this do?” Robert asked her.

“Anything would taste like ambrosia tonight,” she answered.

“I think I could do with something more filling myself,” he smiled at her.

She laughed. “I only know it as the food of the gods. Does anyone know what it really was?”

“It’s rumoured to have been some kind of mushroom,” he told her dryly. “And, as I didn’t have much lunch—”

“Nor did I,” she confessed.

“When did you last eat?” he demanded.

She couldn’t remember. She supposed she must have eaten something for breakfast, but she couldn’t actually remember having done so. She had made lunch for her father, but by that time she had begun to worry about what she was going to wear that evening.

“Well?” he prompted her.

“I’m not sure,” she said. Her eyes lit with laughter. “If you must know, I was far too excited to eat anything! There, now I’ve said it, and you can laugh all you like!”

“I wouldn’t dream of laughing,” he denied. “But I feel enormously flattered all the same. Never mind, you can make up for it now. If we’re going to be foolish, we’ll be foolish together in future!”

She sat down opposite him, still unable to believe that it was all happening to her. “I can’t believe it!” she exclaimed.

He looked up and his eyes met hers, making her catch her breath.

“What can’t you believe? That you’ll never work in the theatre again?”

“No, not that! I like working for you far better anyway,” she told him impulsively.

He lifted an eyebrow, enjoying her confusion. “Good,” he said. “I’ve got used to having you about. I should miss you if I had to write my own letters now.”

Sarah’s eyes dropped to her plate. “Wouldn’t you miss Samantha more?” she asked.

He laughed out loud. “Can one hope that you’re actually jealous of the fair Samantha?”

“A little,” she admitted. “She’s a joy to look at—and I’m not!”

“Little you know, my darling! I find I enjoy looking at you very much indeed. Nor have I ever felt in the least bit romantic about Samantha. I’ve known her all my life and I like her very much as a friend. Does that satisfy you?”

“Almost,” she said. “But, Robert, doesn’t that gorgeous, fiery hair give you a jolt when you see it?”

“I remember her hating it when she was ten years old! How we teased her! I’m afraid it’s a case of familiarity breeding contempt, my love. I prefer the subtleties of nut-brown hair that glows in the sunlight and is as soft as silk.”

It was very strange, but he seemed to mean it. Sarah watched him covertly from beneath her eyelashes as he tackled the steak and kidney pie he had ordered for them both. He had been very pleased to discover that oysters had been included in the recipe, which he could remember his mother putting in her pies when he had been a small boy.

“We must come here more often,” he told her.

The idea of going anywhere with him often filled her with delight. She would have been happy to eat anything as long as she was assured of his company. But there was no doubt that the pie was excellent, and so were the raspberries and cream that they had to follow. Robert ordered their coffee to be taken out into the garden and, putting her wrap over her shoulders, he found some white painted seats under a mulberry tree and suggested they should settle themselves there while they waited for the coffee to be brought out to them.

Sarah looked about her and found they were completely alone in the garden. She sat down on the nearest chair, aware that Robert was watching her, and tried not to blush.

“Well?” he asked her, so quietly that for a moment she thought she had imagined it.

She looked up, suddenly brave. “I love you, Robert,” she said.

He stood over her, his hands on the arms of her chair. “Will you consider all else well lost for that love?”

She nodded. “Though I wouldn’t put it quite like that,” she added with a smile. “I liked my work in the theatre, but it wasn’t life itself!”

“And I am that for you?”

“Yes, I think you are, but I’ll try not to let it become oppressive.”

He smiled at that. “Don’t try too hard. I find I like being the centre of your interest. I haven’t much time for women who want the dominant rather than the supporting role. I’m selfish enough not to want to compete for your love. I meant it when I said it would be an all or nothing relationship, Sarah. If you don’t want that, now is the time to say so.”

Sarah made a helpless gesture with her hands, wondering how to convince him. “I want it that way too,” she said in a low voice.

The look on his face was more than enough reward to her for giving up her freedom and independence into his keeping, for she was wise enough to know that that was what he was demanding, and that there were to be no half measures in her giving.

“Then we may as well enjoy some of the rewards,” he smiled. “I’ve been wanting to kiss you for quite long enough!”

His embrace was a revelation to her. His gentleness gave way to ardour and Sarah knew a moment’s fear as she gave herself up to the pressure of his arms and lips. Then the unexpected passion of her own response swamped all thought and she was aware only of their complete joy in each other.

*

Sunday was a sultry, stormy day. Sarah packed the things she would need for her night in London with marked reluctance. She wished that her stepmother hadn’t insisted that she should go, but all the arrangements had been made and she had no valid excuse for not going.

Even Robert had appeared to think it a good idea.

“You may as well go and see how the city lights look to you now!” he had teased her.

She had chuckled, for he had looked pretty confident that she would come running back to Chaddoxboume as fast as she possibly could.

“It’s such a waste of time!” she had complained.

He had put his hand on the small of her back, smiling triumphantly as she had turned immediately into his arms. “Never mind, sweetheart. I’ll drive you to the station and put you on the train. And it is only for twenty-four hours!”

It was the only nice part of the day as far as Sarah was concerned. Her father was already wheezing badly at the thought of her stepmother’s visit.. Indeed, he looked so ill that it caught at her heart-strings to leave him to struggle through the weekend without her.

Robert bought her a pile of Sunday papers to read on the train and kissed her lightly on the cheek through the open window of her carriage. In the distance the thunder rumbled threateningly and the lightning flashed, making her shiver just as the train pulled away from the platform. She felt a sudden urge to fling herself out of the moving train into Robert’s arms, but of course she repressed it. Instead, she sat down and crossed her legs, opening the first of the papers, and pretending to read it as the pretty scenery of Kent went flying past her.

SARAH stepped out of the train and began to walk along the length of platform towards the barrier. What on earth was she going to do with herself all day? She had never much cared for Sundays in London. She remembered them from her childhood as being endless, boring days, when her stepmother had spent most of the time resting in bed and her father had gone out on his own, visiting friends. Later, when she had grown up, she had found work out of London and had spent most of her Sundays by the seaside, or walking in the countryside that surrounds most of the big cities in the Midlands and the North of England.

The West Indian ticket collector took her ticket with a languid air and a faint smile. Sarah smiled back at him and then froze, for, over his shoulder, she caught a glimpse of Alec Farne.

“What are you doing here?” she asked him.

“Meeting you. What else?”

She regarded him suspiciously. “How did you know what time I was coming? I didn’t tell anyone the time of the train.”

He grinned amiably, taking her overnight bag from her. “Madge told me—only last night, unfortunately, or I would have seen to it that I was free to entertain you. As it is, I have rather a busy day ahead of me. You don’t mind, do you?”

Considering the terms on which they had parted, Sarah thought it was nice of him to ask.

“Of course not!” she said. “You didn’t have to meet me, you know. I quite understand that you have other fish to fry!”

“I wish I thought you minded!” he grunted. “No, that isn’t quite true. But I wish we could be friends, Sarah.”

“Why not?” She thought she had never liked him so well. “As long as there are no strings on either side.”

He looked abashed. “To be honest, I’ve never felt as comfortable with any girl as I feel with you. Could it be because we’re not at all in love with one another?”

Her laughter took the last awkwardness out of their meeting. “I think it might be,” she said demurely. “Oh, Alec, I’m so glad! I was rather dreading seeing you again—”

“Soft-hearted?”

“More likely soft-headed ! I hate quarrelling with anyone!”

“You’re a quaint little thing,” he said. “Most of us enjoy a good quarrel. It sharpens up one’s wits. Your stepmother is one of the best quarrellers in the business !”

“Oh, surely not!” Sarah protested.

“She has that reputation,” Alec said with a touch of grimness. “I’ve never worked with her myself, so I can’t say. I’m not sure I want to,” he added thoughtfully.

“You won’t get the opportunity!” Sarah exclaimed. “Madge is very much sought after!”

“Do I detect a touch of sour grapes?”

“Oh no!” Sarah’s smile transformed her face as she thought of Robert. “I have better things to do with my time! No, I mean it. Mother is at the top and she’s been there ever since I can remember. She doesn’t have to look for people to work with her! She never has!”

“Very loyal!” Alec said dryly. “I’ll tell you what, we’ll go to her show tomorrow and you can see for yourself. Disasterville, is how I’d describe it!”

“You’ve seen it?”

“No. I’ve talked with those who have. Is it a date, Sarah?”

“We-ell,” Sarah answered, “I want to get back to the country. It would mean rushing for the train and I’d be late back. Daddy would be on his own for rather a long time—”

Alec turned and faced her. “I think you owe it to your stepmother to see it,” he said seriously. He smiled suddenly. “You can come along to the rehearsal of my play tomorrow morning and see what you’re missing. Then I won’t feel so guilty about not looking after you properly today.”

“All right,” Sarah said reluctantly. “Where is it?”

He told her the name of the old music hall that they were using for the first rehearsals until' the piece was knocked into some kind of shape. “Eleven o’clock. Don’t be late, honey! ”

She made a face at him. “For once, it won’t matter if I am!” She held out her hand to him. “Thanks for meeting me, Alec.”

“Think nothing of it! I’ll put you in a taxi, shall I ? Or are you going by bus?”

“I’ll go on the bus,” Sarah sighed. “I’m not in a hurry.”

The bus was a long time coming. People in the queue complained that the Sunday services were getting worse and worse, and to complicate things there was another demonstration that was holding up the traffic. The only person who didn’t mind was Sarah. She would willingly have put off her arrival at her stepmother’s house for as long as possible. It meant nothing to her, except a long, lonely day by herself.

And so it was. Sarah made herself something to eat and wandered about the house like a lonely ghost, wondering what to do with herself. It was evening before she decided to sort out the things that she had left in her room there over the years. There were books and treasured possessions from every stage of her life. Some she remembered with pleasure and amusement, others she had forgotten she had ever had. She had had a phase in her teens when she had spent every spare penny she had on old and rare books, and it was amongst these that she dragged out one she had indeed forgotten all about. She looked at the tooled cover with pleasure, opening it to find out what it was.
A Perambulation in Kent,
by William Lambard,
and
dated 1570. It was not a first edition as she had secretly been hoping, but it was old enough to be valuable.

She sat on the bed for a long time, holding the book close to her. She would take it back to Chaddoxboume with her, she decided, imagining Robert’s face when she gave it to him. How it would light up, and how pleased he would be to have another volume to add to the collection Neil’s mother had rifled for her own gain. Tomorrow was too long to have to wait to go home ! She shot out of her room and ran down the stairs, dialling the number of the oast-house. A minute later and her stepmother’s voice answered sounding tired and somehow dishevelled.

Madge Dryden wouldn’t hear of her catching the train home.

“My dear, you’re supposed to be getting a rest and having a gay time ! ”

“But I’m not!” Sarah said crossly. “Alec wants to see your show tomorrow,” she added, “but I don’t like to leave Daddy on his own for such a long time.”

“Daniel is almost his own self!” her stepmother insisted. “Of course you must see the show. I’ll leave instructions with the box office for you to have some tickets. I
want
you and Alec to see it!”

“It will mean catching the last train—”

“Darling, you sound like somebody’s maiden aunt! It won’t kill you to have a late night for a change! I don’t think living in the country is doing you any good at all!”

Sarah replaced the receiver, her mouth dry with disappointment. It was good to hear that her father was all right, though. And it wouldn’t be very long before she would be home again and in Robert’s arms.

The old music hall had once been a handsome building. Relics of its Victorian grandeur could still be seen in the faded decorations and the velvet curtains that hung in dusty shreds on either side of the stage. Most of the seats had long since gone, or had collapsed with old age. Those that were left were huddled together in the centre of the auditorium, as though they were ashamed of their shabby appearance and were seeking a mutual anonymity in the gloomy darkness. The chandeliers had long since fallen from the ceilings and most of the footlights no longer worked.