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Irene tried to feel enthusiastic, but the prospect cut across her momentary calm, giving her a day to worry about. She liked it best when she could see only clear days when she and Emma were together and their privacy protected.

Emma heard the news when Adam and Irene joined her in the sitting-room some few minutes later. Marion had discreetly left, assuring Emma that she would always be available to look after Irene and hoping that things would work out.

Irene said boldly as she faced Emma and sat down in her usual chair, 'I'm going to invite Adam's sister here this coming Sunday.' She added swiftly, 'You don't mind?'

Emma could not have been more surprised. Her gaze went half accusingly to Adam and, even as it did so, the memory of their kiss seemed to intrude as though he were repeating it and she could not escape from his power.

'Of course I don't mind,' she said immediately, tactfully avoiding mentioning or stressing the fact that Irene would never have strangers to the house. It streaked through her thoughts that Adam had obviously engineered the meeting, and she felt rebellion and resistance build up within her.

Adam held her gaze in a look that reached those inner depths where escape was impossible. There was a tenacity about him that defied any challenge. She said, more because she felt suddenly nervous than because the question was important, 'What time had you in mind?'

Irene put in immediately, 'The morning. Drinks before lunch.' The words slipped out involuntarily. 'I get tired in the evening.' She wanted to establish when Ruth would come and go, and not to have the whole day waiting for her arrival, getting all worked up at the idea of her visit.

Adam looked at Emma for confirmation as he said, 'That would be splendid.'

'Then that's settled.' Irene spoke with complacency and then suddenly looked wan. Her hand went up to her head and she held it as though it hurt. To their surprise, she said quietly, 'I'm going to have a rest for half an hour.' She looked at Adam, 'Have I done well?' Her voice was pleading, like a child craving praise.

'Very well.' He opened the door for her.

'Until Sunday,' she said as she left. To Emma, she said, 'I'll come down at teatime.'

Emma reminded her that it was already four o'clock.

'Then let's have tea at five,' she said firmly. Then, as though aware of a
faux pas,
she added, 'Unless Adam would like a cup now.'

Adam immediately replied, 'I can't stay. I promised Judy I'd not be long.'

Judy.
How easily, Emma thought, the name slipped out. And for the first time. It had always been Dr Meyhew, or Judy Meyhew, before. Irritation changed Emma's expression. What did it matter how he referred to his partner?

Irene gone, Adam said, 'I think we've moved a step forward.'

She was amazed at his coolness, his attitude as though the last scene between them had no significance, and that he could kiss her passionately and then revert to what was normality for them.

She wanted to attack him, and exclaimed, 'No doubt as a result of your scheming! Irene would most certainly not have suggested your sister coming here.'

Adam found that Emma disturbed him; even when he wanted to attack her, anger didn't take him all the way. She sat there, a challenge, and he suddenly desired that there should be peace between them so
that their relationship might flourish. Nevertheless he did nothing to further it as he said, 'Are you suggesting that I manoeuvred it?' He cursed himself for saying just the wrong thing to promote harmony. He faced the fact that it was impossible to treat her as a valued friend, no matter how sincere his intentions.

Emma's eyes darkened as emotion sparked off her retort. 'I most certainly am! I should say you're very skilful at getting your own way.'

He shot at her, 'With you being the exception.'

'We are not discussing me!' She held his gaze in a critical intense look. 'But I won't have you manipulating Irene just to prove your pet theories.'

There was a sudden silence while they gazed at each other in an enquiring, mesmeric look, emotion near the surface as the memory of his kiss lay between them.

His voice came almost as a shock, throbbing into the silence.

'A truce, Emma.'

She sat tense, aware of him, weakened by the power of his attraction.

No words seemed to come, and he continued, 'Give me a chance to prove to you that we can transform Irene's life.'

Emma shivered, overwhelmed.

'And to seal it, have dinner with me tomorrow,' he added persuasively.

Emma was all churned up, her heart thudding. The whole situation held an element of fantasy, and almost before she realised what she was saying she whispered, 'Very well. . .' Marion would take care of Irene. And suddenly she asked herself if this was real, or was she dreaming? A truce and dinner with Adam. A question pierced her brain with the sharpness of a dagger: did he take Judy out to dinner?

* * *

Emma was not prepared for Irene's reaction when told of the arrangement. She had been prepared for a reluctant attitude, but, for once, Irene did not bring herself into it, or mention being left with Marion as Emma had already arranged.

'I think you're mad to get involved with Adam, when it's obvious he's interested in Judy Meyhew. You've only to watch his expression when he talks of her, and Marion has seen them out together.' She added forcibly, 'I'm quite sure it is a subject of gossip in the town.'

Emma felt annoyed and flashed, 'Gossip! All doctors are gossiped about! We've said that before.'

Irene looked knowing as she exclaimed, 'I asked you—or rather, told you—that Adam attracted you, but that you wouldn't admit it. Your going out with him proves me right.'

Emma tried never to get annoyed, or argue, with Irene, but this was one occasion when the resolution failed her.

'All this analysis because I'm going out in the evening for once!' Her voice had an edge to it.

Irene looked distressed.

'It isn't that,' she protested. 'Only you can't adopt one attitude and then behave as though everything is normal.' She could not stop the thought flashing through her mind that if Adam and Emma should eventually fall out, the repercussions would involve her. Something she dreaded. Equally, as she had previously admitted, she didn't want Emma to fall in love with Adam. The possibility made her feel ill. She could not bear to think of the present pattern of their lives being changed. It was agony to contemplate Emma ever marrying. What, Irene asked desperately, would happen to her then?

Emma took her stand, Irene's general utterances hitting home. Why was it that she, Emma, was so resistant to the idea that Adam attracted her? It seemed hypocrisy in view of her present capitulation and the advent of a truce between them.

'I don't want my actions analysed, Irene. I just want an evening out. Suppose we leave it at that?' Her voice was firm, and Irene knew that she could not take matters any further.

'Will you be late?' The question came involuntarily as Irene returned to her own little world.

'No, I shouldn't think so, although Marion is staying the night.'

Irene made the last thrust.

'Judy Meyhew will probably want him for
something.'

Emma made no comment, aware somewhat to her dismay that her patience was almost exhausted. An almost unheard-of thing where Irene was concerned.

The following evening she dressed in a cream and blue suit, the dress simple under a smart jacket, for, while it was sunny, the summer evening had a slight chill in the air. There was something unreal about the moment when Adam arrived to collect her and they said goodbye to Irene and Marion. Irene was rather stiff and withdrawn, a fact which did not escape Adam's notice.

'You won't have been to this restaurant before,' Adam said as he drove out of Windsor towards Virginia Water. 'It has only been opened a matter of months and is owned by patients of mine.'

Emma noticed how smart he looked in his dark trousers and oatmeal jacket, how very much in command, as she said involuntarily, 'I've almost forgotten what a restaurant looks like. This is my first outing since the accident.'

He flashed her a sympathetic gaze and said, 'Then
I'm doubly honoured.' There was both sympathy and satisfaction in his voice.

Emma had the strange feeling that she was out for the first time after a long illness. The pastoral Berkshire countryside, clustered around the river Thames and flanked with fir trees, the cones of which, in the spring, sang a chorus as they opened, seemed unfamiliar as though she were suddenly discovering it, instead of being part of it. The atmosphere in the car unnerved her slightly, for Adam's mood was relaxed as if their being out together was perfectly natural, and she heard his words, 'A truce, Emma,' with a little shiver of emotion at their recall.

Adam was conscious of her nearness and the faint delicate scent that stole from her. He could not have said why he was so eager for harmony to be established between them, and told himself that she was an attractive woman and therefore it was natural he should wish them to be friends. Besides, he wanted her support where Irene was concerned, and explained away his interest as part of an overall plan having its inception in his professional involvement. The scene the previous day he sought to dismiss as a mere incident, although not in keeping with his usual pattern of behaviour.

The Manor Restaurant appeared in the distance, lifting itself out of wooded slopes and spacious parkland and approached by a wide drive cutting through flower-laden gardens and tall fir trees.

'How attractive,' Emma said with enthusiasm as she looked at the large low building with its mellow stone walls and wide patio-like windows, outside which a wide terrace gave an added suggestion of space and elegance, together with an almost continental air, since guests could sit out and have their drinks overlooking the surrounding countryside.

'It was converted from the stables of the original
manor house which was demolished after the war. My patient, Pierre Lessing, bought it a year ago and has made a great success of it. He has the right touch, and he and his wife manage it themselves. His wife, Maria, is Italian, so one has a variety of food on the menu. And being near Virginia Water and Sunningdale, with Windsor on their doorstep, he attracts a considerable number of visitors.'

Pierre himself received them info a spacious room furnished like a dining-room in the old manor house itself. Red and white were dominant colours and the almost floor-to-ceiling open windows gave a sense of space and welcome fresh air. Emma thought that Pierre might have stepped out of an Agatha Christie novel.

'Ah, Doctor,' he said warmly and, as Adam introduced him to Emma, added, '
Mademoiselle
.' His voice had an attractive, but not pronounced, accent. 'I have your table.' He indicated a secluded corner in the near-full restaurant.

Did that mean, Emma found herself wondering, that Adam was a frequent visitor? That he probably took Judy there? And, no doubt, Ruth? She dismissed the thought somewhat impatiently and gazed at the billiards-table-smooth lawns, with rockeries and waterfalls that had been cleverly landscaped by an artist. The white tablecloths and napkins stood out against the red brocaded drapery. Large silver fruit bowls stood on an old-fashioned heavily carved sideboard which towered to the ceiling, its mirror reflecting the flower-decked tables and scenic beauty outside.

'You come here often,' Emma said, feeling slightly nervous and not asking what she considered to be the most tactful question.

He didn't hesitate.

'Quite. Its nearness is a bonus.' He inclined his head
in greeting to a couple who had come to a table within sight and acknowledged him cheerfully.

Emma gave a little wry smile. 'I'm always intrigued by the fact that a doctor never greets a patient unless the first move is made by him or her, or both. The intrigues of medicine,' she added.

He said a little defensively, 'It is a wise precaution. Visits to a doctor are often a very private affair.'

'But the doctor's life is public property,' she countered immediately. 'I shouldn't think any other profession attracts so much gossip.' She did not know what made her add rather caustically, 'And in your case, with an attractive young partner ' she made a little gesture ' it's inevitable.'

He frowned.

'Nevertheless I detest gossip and conjecture,' he said almost coldly. 'Judy and I '

The wine waiter appeared at that moment and Emma was left in suspense as to what Adam had been going to say, but it struck her how naturally he had coupled their names and, once again, Judy Meyhew seemed almost to be beside them as a distraction.

'Regretfully, Charles,' Adam said to the wine waiter without looking at the menu, 'it will have to be half a bottle of Bollinger.' He looked at Emma apologetically. 'I daren't risk more than that, alas. . .' He repaired what he knew to be an omission. 'I'm afraid I assumed you like champagne.'

Emma didn't put on a sad voice as she said, 'My parents liked it. We used to celebrate in those days.'

He held her gaze. 'I want to bring the celebrations back,' he said firmly. 'I'm sure they would wish it.'

She suddenly saw him as a man with his finger on the pulse of life, and said almost grudgingly, 'You enjoy your life, don't you?'

His eyes looked into hers with an unnerving
intensity. 'Don't make it sound like a reproach.'

A tremor went over her. She felt rebuked, even foolish.

She fell back on challenge. 'It was an assessment. After all, I know mostly what I hear and. . .' She faltered, aware of his critical gaze.

He said disarmingly, 'And haven't you learned anything from knowing me, Emma? Don't tell me I'm a stranger, or I shall think you're play-acting.'

'Perhaps our diversity of views has made it difficult for me to form a balanced opinion.' She did not remove her gaze from his as she added deliberately, the memory of his kiss holding them both, 'To say nothing of your somewhat erratic behaviour.'

'Touché!'