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Dani's eyes narrowed speculatively. Alder House was the home of her sister and brother-in-law, Harry Coles. Prentice McCulloch had to be the important dinner guest. She felt her heart sink.

'Yes,' Brian nodded. 'It's only round the corner from here' His voice became openly curious. 'You know the Coles?'

'Not exactly. I'm looking around for building contrac
tors. Harry Coles seems damn anxious to get the job . . . hence the invitation. Having a local man might have its advantages, but if the man runs his business the way he talks, he'll be working on the Manor for ever. I don't have the time for that.'

Poor Harry! Dani knew that her Suffolk-born brother-in-law did tend to measure his words before he spoke, and that he was not a gifted conversationalist, yet she resented the implied arrogance in Prentice McCulloch's words.

'Just because we live in a village, you don't have to believe we're all brainless country bumpkins!' The words were out before she could stop them.

Immediately, she became the focus of two stares; one curious and the other cold as one of Prentice's eyebrows lifted.

'I wasn't aware that I'd said you were.' The cool tones were very precise, 'I simply implied that it might be quicker to get a contractor from Ipswich ...'

'Because Harry Coles is a craftsman who might do the job too slowly for you . . .'

'. . . and because his quotes might be too high.'

Dani bit her lip and tried to stop the red from creeping into her cheeks. Now she saw her interruption as presumptuous, and from the way he was looking at her, Prentice McCulloch agreed.

'I have to go,' she said awkwardly, wanting to be out of his sight. He was making her feel suddenly like one of her own small pupils.

'If you're working, Brian, then of course I'll leave you in peace.' There was nothing in Prentice's voice but steady politeness as he glanced at his half-brother. 'I'd hate to waste your valuable time. Or yours, Miss Robertson.' He did not look at Dani.

'It doesn't matter.' Impatiently Brian waved his hand. 'Dani can come over any time. You want a drink?'

'No, thanks.'

Dani guessed that there would never be another occasion on which Brian could ask a question like that. Prentice had been so clearly made to feel unwelcome that she sensed he would never risk a second rebuff: She watched the man's chin lift slightly in self-defensive pride and wondered again why Brian had been so rude.
_;

'Hey, look . . .' The artist was an observant man. He must have seen the gesture, too.'. . . I'm like a bear with a sore head when I'm working. Stay and have that drink. Dani and I have finished, really we have.'

She was surprised by the suddenly conciliatory note in Brian's voice. It did not fit the man she knew, but it was the closest thing to an apology that she had ever heard the big man utter.

'Well—all right.' Prentice sounded reluctant.

'Good. Good. ' Brian rubbed his hands together and his voice sounded rather too loud in the quietness of the studio. Having made his gesture of appeasement, he now seemed to be in a good mood. 'Come and tell me what you think of this.'

The two men studied the portrait of Dani as she sat uncomfortably on her chair and waited.

'Not bad,' Prentice said at last. 'She's very unusual.'

Unusual? What did he mean by that? Dani glared and Brian laughed and Prentice surveyed her with his jade eyes. Jade? They had been the colour of the sea the last time she had looked into them. Indignantly she prepared a haughty answer, annoyed by the fact that she was being treated like an inanimate object, but Prentice had moved on to something else.

'Not the only thing you're doing, I see.' He nodded towards the nude and the sunlight coming weakly through ' the window glinted on his hair and emphasised the auburn tints in it, making it glow like a bold autumn sunset.

'It isn't right,' Brian said despondently. 'I've spent hours over the damn thing. Maybe I should stick to landscapes.'

Dani hardly heard him. She was watching the appreciative look on Prentice McCulloch's face, and the way his eyes were moving from the picture to her and then back again. She did not need to look at the painting to remind herself of the relaxed pose of the woman, the gentle curve of her breasts, the way Brian had been clever enough to capture the healthy glow of creamy skin, she had seen it too many times before. And it wasn't her! She wanted to shout the words to the man studying it, but an inner voice told her that he would not believe her.

'I must go,' she said again, and she could feel her blush heating her cheeks. 'I'll see you later, Mr McCulloch.'

'You will?' Again that infuriating lift of his eyebrow as he stared at her through the smoke of his cigarette.

'Yes. Harry Coles is my brother-in-law.'

It was her ace and she played it triumphantly, determined to try to embarrass him as he had embarrassed her.

'Is he now?' Prentice McCulloch's expression never wavered by a fraction. His face was, Dani thought angrily, like a graven mask. What would it take to put some emotion into the bleak eyes?

'Yes.' She stood up, stretched, and deliberately turned her back on the portrait of the nude woman. 'See you, Brian.'

She turned and left the studio, running lightly up the wooden staircase outside the building that led to her own flat, above Brian's, and feeling her chagrin mount with every step she took. It was not like her to jump as precipitously into a conversation as she had. Neither was it like her to speak so sharply to a complete stranger. No wonder Brian had looked surprised.

She ran through her living room, with its cream-coloured walls and oak beams and into her bedroom, pulling her dress off quickly and changing with anxious speed. She wanted to get to Marina's house before Prentice McCulloch did. She felt somehow that it would give her an advantage to be able to greet him when he arrived rather than being late and flustered herself.

Originally her home had been part of an old barn. Brian had bought it, renovated it carefully in keeping with the neighbouring buildings, adding a studio and creating the first-floor flat. Dani had moved in as soon as it was ready and had been living there for two years.

She liked her home. She liked the wood floors that were liberally sprinkled with mats, the paintings that she had cajoled from Brian, and her huge rubber tree with its big, glossy leaves. One window in the living room looked out over the village square, and she was never lonely with the heart of the village so close to her. Gold velvet curtains framed the casement and the colour was echoed in the cushions that were scattered on the couch and the one easy chair that Dani possessed, while one wall of the room was almost completely hidden by row upon row of books.

As she changed, Dani began to remember snippets of conversations with Brian over the last year. Yes, he
had
mentioned a half-brother. It had been around the time when his parents had died, and she furrowed her forehead as she tried to remember the details. Mutual mother but different fathers. She was sure she remembered Brian saying, with a rather twisted smile, that their mother had left Prentice's father when Prentice was about two years old, and had gone to live with the man who became Brian's father.

Was that right? Dani pushed her feet into high-heeled court shoes and reached for her hairbrush. Hadn't Brian said something about being born before his parents could marry? Hadn't he said it lightly and casually, but hadn't she noticed the way his hands had twisted a piece of Mexican pottery around as he had spoken? She could also just recall the feeling she had gained at the time that Brian had not liked his half-brother, although he had admitted feeling sorry for him because he had been brought up solely by his father and hadn't met his mother again until he was adult.

Dani stepped out on to the small wood-railed balcony at the top of her stairs
feeling
rushed and unready for the evening ahead. Then voices floated up to her from the front door of Brian's ground-floor flat.

' . . . come and see me again. You'll be spending a fair bit of time here, I suppose.' Brian's tone was far more cordial than it had been earlier.

'Yes, I will.' The quieter assurance of Prentice. 'I want to get things started as soon as possible. I could be working on the plans this evening if I didn't have this damn dinner to go to.' There was a pause and Dani, right foot frozen on the first step of the staircase, suddenly realised that she was eavesdropping. 'What are these people like?' Prentice continued.

'The Coles? They're nice.'

'And this Dani Robertson?'

'She's a teacher at the local school.'

'Oh God, a schoolmarm! That's all I need!' It was said in a tone of bored resignation, as if Prentice McCulloch could see a long and difficult evening ahead.

'You run along and enjoy yourself.'

Dani gritted her teeth at the laughter in Brian's voice, and the memory of what Prentice had said. A school-marm! How dare he! He made her sound about fifty. There was nothing wrong, she told herself indignantly, about being a school teacher. Nothing at all.

She could not walk down her stairs without them seeing and hearing her. On impulse she slipped back into her flat and watched from the window until she saw a big, blue Volvo slide away in the direction of Alder House.

Damn him! She could still hear the condescension in his voice. In just a few minutes he had succeeded in shaking her out of her usual calm, placid mood and reducing her to a furious state of agitation.

Now, as she trod carefully down her stairs, aware that they were a little precarious, she remembered another aspect of that year-old conversation with Brian. She had suggested that maybe the father of this half-brother—she hadn't known Prentice's name then—and Brian's mother had married too young. Brian had looked at her with rare compassion in his eyes and had asked her if that was what had happened to her. She had said yes. Just yes, nothing more, but he had been intuitive enough to steer the conversation into another channel.

Dani walked swiftly across the square in the wake of the Volvo that had disappeared from sight along Church Street, and cursed silently. Prentice McCulloch was dredging up memories that she would rather forget. She disliked his calm assurance and she hated even more the way he had looked at the nude portrait and then at her, raking her with his eyes before dismissing her casually.

She squared her shoulders and smiled grimly as she approached Alder House. Perhaps she would give him a few surprises during the evening.

Oh, come on, she told herself, somewhat amazed by her own militancy. What does it matter? Just get through the evening, get home and forget him. The trouble was that she suspected Prentice McCulloch would not be easy to forget.

'So when do you hope to move into the Manor?'

The question was asked during a lull in the conversation around the dinner table, and while Marina looked expectantly at her guest, Dani cut a neat square of the beef she was eating and wondered if her sister would get a straight answer.

The atmosphere at the dinner party was constrained, Everyone seemed to be polite but wary and they had been talking about every topic under the sun, trying to keep away from village matters in deference to their guest. However, Dani had known that the question, or one like it, would be asked at some stage. Now she glanced quickly to her right and saw Prentice McCulloch break the bread roll on his sideplate with thin, strong brown fingers before raising his eyes to meet those of his hostess.

'Hasn't Harry told you?' As Dani listened, his voice conveyed a little surprise that she was sure was feigned. 'I shan't be living there, except maybe for just a few months. I'm turning the Manor into a Country Club.'

The temperature in the room seemed to drop, almost as if someone had lifted the roof and the ceilings off the house and exposed them all to the chill evening air. Marina stared, first at Prentice and then at her husband, and Bill and Elsie Chamberlain, the other guests at the table, exchanged one quick glance before bending their heads to their food again.'

Dani saw all this in one swift, encompassing glance, and then turned her own eyes to Harry. He looked uncomfortable as he smiled half-heartedly and he pulled a wry face in Dani's direction as she shook her head slightly in exasperation.

'Harry?' Marina's voice both accused and asked for an explanation. 'Why didn't you tell me?'

'Not your business, my dear. Mr McCulloch can do what he pleases with his property.'

'What exactly do you mean by a country club?' Marina turned her head back to look at her guest. 'Licensed premises? An hotel? What sort of thing are you planning?'

'Initially something on quite a small scale,' Prentice said smoothly. 'Good food, a few bedrooms, bars ...'

'So it's really an hotel.'

'A kind of hotel,' he agreed, and if he was aware of any antagonism from his fellow diners, he ignored it. 'But later on I hope to add a swimming pool and a sauna and a jacuzzi. The whole place will be open to non-residents, of course, and with the acreage around the Manor, I hope to. put in a nine-hole golf course and tennis courts.'

'Good lord!' Bill took a hasty sip of his wine and Dani knew what he was thinking. His beautiful Suffolk-pink cottage backed on to the Manor grounds. No doubt he was wondering what sporting facility was going to be the closest to his carefully tended garden. Golf balls among his peas, tennis balls with the roses, or the shouts of people enjoying a swim and destroying his peace?

'Mr McCulloch, this is a quiet village.' Elsie was the first to muster some form of coherent statement. 'And I must say, I'm not looking forward to the idea of having an hotel right on our front doorsteps. People coming and going. . .'

'A country club,' Prentice corrected her smoothly. 'And I do assure you, Mrs Chamberlain, that there will be no rowdy behaviour.'

They had begun the dinner by tentatively calling one another by their Christian names. Now it seemed that war had been declared. Dani watched Prentice covertly from her place next to him. Completely composed, his self-assurance wrapped around him like a cloak, this bringer of bad news sat quietly in his chair while his fingers played idly with his bread roll. Dani watched the tell-tale fingers and knew, suddenly, that the confidence was partially a pose, and that the man was not as relaxed as he appeared to be. The bread roll was disintegrating into a small pile of white and brown flakes, resembling a miniature snowstorm. .