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'Absolutely fine; couldn't be better!' She willed herself not to fill up with pleasure at the simple enquiry. 'And you're looking rested,' she added, moving back to let the voluntary helper with her library trolley go trundling through.

'I had good weather and a load of fresh air,' he smiled down at her, his sun-, and sea-, and wind-bronzed face bracketing into folds. No.. .no man had any right to be so distracting. Anna could feel her whole body tingling as though she was threaded on wires.

She had finished for the day and had already handed over to Jean and the late shift nurses so there was no reason why she shouldn't walk with Simon up the corridor, especially as he seemed to expect her to do so— moving his arm behind her in a wafting movement, like a kind of remote control.

She felt happy; she felt wanted; she felt willing to be under his spell again, for that was the way of spells. They were addictive—she had found that out when he'd been away and she'd wanted him back, if only to smile at her.

What he said, however, as they waited on the landing for the arrival of the lift so took her by surprise that she could only stare at him and gape. 'I understand we're likely to be meeting socially on Saturday night,' he remarked, head uptilted to watch the button lights over the lift.

'Do you mean at Alex's and his father's party?' The
lift seemed to be stuck two floors up—number five button lit, then went out again.

'I'm let out sometimes, Anna.' His smile 'was the teasing kind.

'Well, of course... I didn't mean...' Anna's thoughts whirled. Who could he be coming with? Not the glamorous Julia Trafford, for Alex had told her that she was lecturing in Japan.

'I'm escorting Janet Mapleton,' Simon said. 'Her husband—my cousin, Hugh—has a business appointment that night. Jan was keen to go, so asked me to do the honours. I heard through Amy Benson that you and your grandmother will be there.'

'Yes, we will.' Anna was still trying to collect herself. 'I didn't realise,' she managed to smile, 'that you were related to the Mapletons. I met a Mr Clive Mapleton at the Collingham Show. Alex and I went to their stand.'

Simon moved slightly as more people arrived. 'Clive Mapleton is my uncle,' he said. 'My mother's brother. He's the head of the firm and Hugh, his son, is one of the partners. He's involved with one of the roadshows at present—he's in York this weekend. Anyway, that's the arty side of our family—the other's strictly medical!'

Anna wondered if Alex knew of Simon's relationship to the Mapletons. Well, he soon would if he didn't now. How astonishing life was at times. Simon would be there, at the party, and so would she. A little spiral of happiness curled.. .so did her toes in her shoes.

'So, see you on Saturday,' he said as the lift opened before them. It was crowded and, although they managed to get in, they became separated, as well as sardined. When the crowd spilled out at ground level at last Simon waved an arm above the sea of heads and hurried towards Casualty.

* * *

'I think I'll buy a new dress for the party after all,' Anna told Prue later that evening as she helped her put her gardening tools away.

'I thought you'd decided on your cream silk.' Prue locked and bolted the shed, wiping her hands on the seat of her trousers as she joined Anna on the path.

'I'd like something with a bit more style and pizzazz.'

'Not, I hope, with a hemline up to your crotch—you'd shock Alex out of his mind.'

'Alex isn't as easily shocked as all that,' Anna said reflectively, 'but have no fear, I'll be reasonably decorous. I just feel like branching out.'

'Well, I'm for my skirt and sequined top that's done duty for two decades,' Prue said, shaking a stone from her sandal. She wasn't a great one for clothes.

Anna found the dress she wanted in a small boutique off the Western Road on Saturday morning. She had seen it in the window. It was of midnight-blue jersey silk with diamante straps. Its skirt was clinging but wide enough to walk in, reaching to within four inches of shapely knee and making the most of the rest.

'It has style and suits you,' was Prue's verdict as they set off that evening just before eight o'clock. They were later than Anna had wanted to be but Prue had elected to spend more time than usual with her mother at the nursing-home, saying that she hadn't looked at all well and that she didn't like leaving her.

'She's had these upsets before and been all right.' Anna had been less than patient.

'That's easy to say.' Prue was on edge and lacking in party spirit. 'Why the Marriners want to live so far out beats me,' she said, glaring out at the countryside skimming by as though it were an affront.

'They like rural life when they're not at the shop, and five miles isn't far out,' Anna said, beginning the run down into West Beldon village, at the north end of which Grey stones House sprawled behind its matching wall and imposing iron gates.

The sun had set and the opal-streaked sky was lapsing into dusk as she steered carefully into the drive, looking for a space to park—which was hard to find, cars even lining the verge outside. The garden, at first glance, looked full of guests standing about in groups with white-coated waiters sliding between them balancing trays of drinks.

'Let's leave our wraps in the car,' Prue said. 'Save scrumming for them when we leave.' This they did and were crossing the lawn when Alex, who had been looking out for them, met them halfway with his father and Imogen Rayland, who took charge of Prue.

Imogen, Anna saw, looked transformed with her grey hair piled up high, earrings glittering against her cheeks and a pale blue dress of floating material softening her angular shape. Amy Benson, in a white linen suit, waved from the terrace, where she sat with a man like a garden gnome who was smoking a fat cigar.

Greystones was
en fete.
All its ground floor rooms had been given over to the party, whilst the collective sound of so many people laughing and talking was a humming buzz—like a swarm of bees, Anna thought as she stepped inside.

There was background music, but not too much of it; there were flowers everywhere—spiky gladioli, early chrysanthemums, roses in silver bowls. There was a teasing aroma of food and wine and a bar at the end of the hall, whilst the buffet table, running its length, was ideally placed for guests who liked to circulate and go in and out as they pleased.

Anna kept a sharp look-out for Simon as Alex took her from group to group, introducing her simply as 'a friend of mine, whom I don't think you've met'. It was when they progressed into the garden that she saw him...saw Simon by the terrace steps, inclining towards a tiny blonde in a pink dress with a cape.

'There's your consultant over there with Janet Mapleton. Did you know they were related?' Alex asked, steering her in their direction.

'Not until yesterday, no, I didn't.' Anna's eyes were on Simon—on the tall, sharp outline of him against the terrace lights. 'I learned yesterday,' she went on, 'that Clive Mapleton and Simon's mother are brother and sister.'

'It's a small world!'

'Yes,' she managed to say before Simon and the pink girl turned round.

Alex introduced Anna to Janet Mapleton, whose handshake was warm. 'Oh, I'm so glad to meet you,' she said. 'My father-in-law told me that Alex had brought a stunning girl to our stand. He didn't realise you were a sister on the ward where Simon has his beds.'

'No, I don't think I mentioned that Anna was in nursing.' Alex rested an arm about her shoulders, as though establishing some kind of claim and making her feel uncomfortable under Simon's silent gaze. More people came up to join them, including Miss Benson and the garden-gnome man, who turned out to be a well-known biographer.

Anna recognised a woman with a bun and glasses whom she'd seen in Alex's shop. She had a military-type man with her, presumably her husband, who started a conversation on Georgian silver and the price it fetched in the States. Under cover of all this and with social skill and smiles second to none, Alex drew her away to be introduced to another group of guests.

There was no doubt that Anna enjoyed herself, but talking to strangers and standing about with a glass in one hand and the other imprisoned in Alex's, was a feat and a strain, and she was glad when they went into the house to eat.

It was ten o'clock and cooler, but still warm enough for doors and windows to be left wide, and several people were eating outside on the terrace or at the tables under the trees. Simon was probably out there, Anna thought as she did a quick scan of the sitting-room where she sat with Alex, Prue and Charles Marriner.

'You've taken everyone by storm tonight,' Alex whispered as he plied her with food.

'I feel as though I've been through one—the eye of it, too,' Anna said edgily, beginning on her plate of salmon and asparagus tips. It was cold and delicious. She was hungry, she realised. After all, she'd not eaten since lunch. Reviving by the second and beginning to feel more well disposed towards Alex's blandishments and to making conversation with other guests who joined them, she winked across at Prue, who was having the time of her life. Her grandmother, she decided, was a social bird, and took parties in her stride.

When one of the caterers came to speak to Alex about opening some more wine, Anna excused herself on the pretext of 'powdering her nose'. The downstairs cloakroom into which Imogen showed her had its sash window raised. So standing there and rinsing her hands she could look out into the darkness of the side vegetable garden, which, she remembered, ran down to the paddock where Tom's little mare had her home.

The wish to be on her own for a little while longer, away from the braying sound of so many people all talking at once, became strong enough not to be resisted and, hitching up her dress, she straddled the sill and jumped down into the earth of a flower-bed below.

She need only be a few minutes but how lovely it was out here, with the noise of the party a background one and in front of her the long path that led down to the paddock, which, now that her eyes had become accustomed to the darkness, she could see quite well. What she didn't see, or hear, or have any awareness of, was the figure in the shadows a few yards behind her—the figure of a man who waited until she was nearly to the paddock before he called her name.

She stiffened and froze. She knew who it was; she knew it was Simon; she didn't need to turn to check this out; she would have known his voice from a dozen others. 'How you startled me!' she cried.

'I was trying not to.' He drew level with her.

'I came out here to be on my own.' She didn't mean that to sound the way it did, as though she was brushing him off.

'So did I.' He fell into step beside her, going on to say, 'As a matter of fact, I was already out when you vaulted over that sill. I was so intrigued by the stealthy manoeuvre that I decided to follow you!'

'Oh!' Reflecting on the figure she must have cut, Anna felt herself blush.

'Perhaps you got bored with your hostessing duties?' They halted at the paddock rail, he resting his arms on the top of it and turning to look at her face.

'I'm not the hostess but simply a guest, the same as you,' she corrected quickly and a little sharply.

'That wasn't the way it looked.'

'Things very often aren't.'

'True,' he conceded, and then a stifling silence fell. Anna's ears sang with the strain of it. What did he want? Why had he followed her? Why was he here?

'He's too old for you,' he said at last, and she heard her own surprised gasp.

'What an odd thing to say!' She peered at him standing there, looking over the paddock.

'By about twenty years,' he went on as though she'd not spoken at all.

'Between friends age doesn't matter.'

He toned round and faced her then. 'You're not trying to tell me that you and Marriner are "just good friends''!'

'That's exactly what we are,' she said wife emphasis, glad to put him straight.

She was unprepared for his laugh, which came out like a snort. 'That's not the way
he
feels—showing you off, handing you around like a precious painting, for everyone to admire! The way he behaves, and
the way you let him,
makes me think you're being just a shade economical with the truth!'

It was that that fired her. He thought she was lying. 'You must believe what you like!' she snapped.

'Indeed I must,' he retorted, 'as will most of the guests here tonight. You're a beautiful girl.. .a desirable woman.. .your charms enhanced by that dress! No male with a millilitre of red blood in his veins wouldn't burn at the sight of you!'

'You make me sound like a bimbo!'

'Don't talk such rot...don't talk arrant
rubbish!'
He reached out for her, seizing her roughly and jerking her to him, forcing her chin up and bringing his mouth to hers in a kiss that was devoid of tenderness—a kiss that was angry and thrusting, hurting her with its force. And yet.. .and yet she responded to it, just as forcefully— matching anger with anger, passion with passion, stretching her arms round his neck, tangling her fingers in his hair, holding his head down fast.

When he moved back, when his heat was no longer slammed against her own, when he gave a small triumphant laugh, when the cold night air ran like a stream between them, she told him that she hated him. 'I don't want to be out of control like that, I don't want an affair! I don't want sex for kicks, without love.. .and I
don't want it with you!''

'Pity!' The single word hung in the air like a bomb which might explode with the slightest movement from either of them. 'Better stick to your Ancient Marriner, then,' he said softly into the night. 'Speaking of whom, here he comes now.' Following his gaze, Anna could just make out Alex's narrow, lithe figure moving under the trees.

She ought to wave, she supposed, or call out, but she felt too shaken to move and too close to tears so she simply stood and waited for him to come. He was with them in seconds, smiling affably but looking mystified. 'I wondered where you'd got to, Anna.' He looked from her to an imperturbable Simon, who blithely said,