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By Monday morning she felt refreshed and well able to cope with any demands Brad made. The first thing she noticed as she entered his room was that a door had been put into the wall connecting it to the room which was to be her office.

'It’s all ready,' he smiled, observing her quick glance. ‘The furniture arrived on Saturday. I commend your choice.’

Laura was pleased to have met with his approval, but wished he had told her about it so that she could have stayed in and moved her own papers and equipment instead of wasting time this morning.

He crossed and opened the door, standing back for her to enter, an enigmatic smile on his face. Puzzled, Laura stepped into the room, halting abruptly when she saw that everything was ready—down to the last paperclip.

Brad chuckled and she turned on him accusingly. ‘Why didn’t you say? I’d have stayed to help. The man in the shop said the furniture wouldn’t be delivered until this week’

‘I know, but I phoned and asked them to bring it on Saturday. I shall be out for the rest of the week and I wanted it settled before I leave. Everything’s been transferred, except for the letters in the filing-cupboard. It will be a mammoth task sorting that lot out, but I’ve no doubt you will cope.’ He returned to his desk. ‘Did you enjoy your weekend?’

He was still smiling and Laura wondered at the change in him. It seemed that when he was involved on a particular project he had no time for anyone else, but when the work was finished he suddenly realised that he was living among normal human beings who appreciated the courtesies of life. Whatever it was, his awareness of her capabilities caused a warm glow to spread inside her and she found herself excitedly telling him of the villages and churches she had explored, and how wonderful the countryside was around Leastone Hall.

When she had finished he said, ‘We must explore these wonderful places together one day, Laura. You shall be my guide—but now,’ he picked up a sheaf of papers, ‘I must rush. Here’s a number of articles that I want typing this week. You’ve nearly finished my book?’

‘Y-yes—only two more chapters.' Her heartbeats had quickened at the thought of another day out in his company, but quickly she pulled herself together. Surely she wasn’t falling for his charms? It was impossible. When she fell in love it would have to be someone like David—charming, kind and positively not temperamental. How could anyone live with Brad when he was in one of his moods? He might be famous, but at what cost to his family and friends had his books been written ? After only a week she was beginning to dread approaching him when he was at work, though why he should be so bad-tempered she could not imagine. Were all authors the same?

Suddenly she noticed that Brad was watching her curiously. 'Is there anything wrong?’ he asked. ‘You’ve been looking at me very strangely for the last half minute.’

Her cheeks flushed as she realised how rude he must think her. No, nothing. I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to stare’

'That’s all right.' He smiled warmly. T shall be in Bristol until Friday—I’m giving a series of lectures. Here’s my number in case you need me.’ He turned at the door, eyes twinkling, 'I'll leave everything in your capable hands, Laura. I’m sure you won’t be able to complain about your working conditions now?’

Laura smiled her thanks, sitting for a while at her desk after he had gone. He had positioned it so that as she worked she could admire the view from the window. How thoughtful, thought Laura happily. Now I shall be able to watch the changing shades of autumn. And later the frosts and snows.

Already the leaves were turning yellow. Before long they would fall and the lawns would be carpeted in brown and gold. As she watched a gust of wind enticed a handful of leaves from the trees and they danced merrily across the grass before being caught in a yew hedge a few yards further on.

Turning her attention back to her typewriter, Laura forced herself to concentrate on the task of finishing Brad’s book. Much as she loved the great outdoors work had to come first.

It seemed no time at all before Mrs. Jennings came in with her mid-morning coffee and by lunch time she had finished one chapter and was half way through the second. As on the previous occasion when Brad was out Laura lunched with Mrs. Jennings, but hurried back to her office immediately afterwards as she wanted to finish the book and make a start on the articles.

She was able to work much quicker with her new typewriter and by Tuesday evening all the. typing was done. On Wednesday she settled down to the enormous task of sorting out the files, but this, too, proved easier than she had at first felt and by mid-morning on Thursday the work was finished. She was left wondering how to occupy herself for the rest of the week.

When she mentioned her dilemma to Mrs. Jennings she was told, ‘Take the time off, love. Mr. Stuart can’t tell you off for not working if there’s nothing to do. Why don’t you go for a walk?
It's
a lovely afternoon.’

'Oh, I couldn’t.’ Laura looked horrified. ‘I mean, someone might telephone or Mr. Stuart might ring, then what would he say if I wasn’t here to take a message? I couldn’t possibly leave the house
.'

‘As you like,’ retorted Mrs. Jennings, looking as if she thought Laura was silly not to take advantage of the situation. ‘Anyway, it’s my afternoon off, so you’ll have the house to yourself—more or less.’

Laura guessed that she was referring to Helen and after the housekeeper had left could not help but wonder about the woman who confined herself to one room. Why did she shut herself away so completely from the rest of the household? Why had Brad never mentioned his sister? It was a strange state of affairs and the more Laura considered it the more curious she became.

She tried to read, but it was difficult to forget that the only other person in the house was someone she had never met, nor was likely to meet by the look of things. Laura had been unable to pluck up courage to ask Brad about his sister and it was obvious that he was not going to volunteer any information. With sudden determination she decided to find out for herself.

At the top of the staircase she paused. Her own room lay to the right, but if the face she had seen at the window did belong to Helen it would mean that her room was somewhere along the corridor on her left, a part of die house she had never seen before.

There was no response from the first three rooms and when Laura opened the doors she saw that the furniture was shrouded in dust sheets. Behind the fourth door Laura thought she heard a noise, although there was no reply to her knock. After a few seconds she knocked again, then gently opened the door.

The room was exquisitely furnished in shades of pink and grey. For a moment Laura thought that she had been mistaken, that the room was empty. Then, in the shadows by the window, where a blind had been drawn to shut out the sunlight, she saw a still figure sitting in an armchair.

The occupant gave no indication that she was aware of Laura's presence and Laura herself hesitated, wondering whether to speak or silently retreat. She had just decided on the latter when a friendly voice said, ‘Do come in and let me have a look at you. I presume you are Laura Templeton? Brad’s told me so much about you.’

Laura was unaware that Brad visited his sister very often and was amazed to hear that they had discussed her. This put a different light on her conception that Helen and Brad were not very well disposed towards one another, and as she closed the door she looked curiously at the other woman.

It was difficult in the dim light to distinguish her features, but Laura could see the slim, well-shaped body, and the dark shoulder-length hair.

‘Draw up the blind,' commanded the deep, husky voice. 'I want to see you more clearly.'

Laura obeyed, gasping incredulously as she turned away from the window and saw Helen clearly for the first time.

She had gained the impression that Helen was considerably older than Brad, and was astonished to see an exceedingly beautiful girl about her own age.

Helen laughed drily. ‘What’s the matter? Aren’t I what you expected? I know Brad doesn’t like discussing me, but I wasn’t aware that he gave people the idea that I was something out of the ordinary.’

‘Oh, no, not at all. It’s just that I thought you would be much older.’

Helen raised her finely shaped brows, grey eyes so much like her brother’s wide and disbelieving. ‘He led you to believe that?’

With heightened colour Laura replied, ‘Not exactly. In fact Brad—er—Mr. Stuart has never mentioned you. It was Mrs. Jennings—she said you suffered with your legs and I imagined an old lady with rheumatics or something.’

Helen’s laugh rang out—this time a laugh of sheer amusement. ‘At least you’re honest. Pull up a chair. I think I’m going to like you, Miss Templeton. Or may I call you Laura?’

‘Please do. I’m sorry if I stared.’ Laura fetched a basket chair from beside the lace-covered bed and sat down opposite Helen.

'Tell me, said Helen, 'what made you decide to visit me? A genuine interest in old ladies or curiosity to see why I've become a recluse?’

'Curiosity, I suppose,’ replied Laura carefully, ‘and concern that you should shut yourself away. It doesn’t seem right living here all alone.’

‘What choice have I?' Helens voice was all at once irritable and the jerky movements of her hands indicated a tension not otherwise apparent. ‘This is Brad’s house and he insists I stay in this room. I’m not surprised he hasn't told you about me. He never lets me see anyone. He can’t bear illness in any shape or form and although he visits me every day I know he regards it as a duty rather than a pleasure.’

What an unfeeling man, thought Laura crossly. How could he treat his own sister like that? Impulsively she leaned forward, clasping the other girl’s beautifully manicured hands in her own. 'At least I’ll come and see you, and if you think it will do any good I’ll have a word with Mr. Stuart suggesting you spend part of your day downstairs.’

‘You mustn’t do that.’ Helen snatched away her hands abruptly, her previous well-modulated tones harsh with annoyance. ‘Brad would never allow such a thing, and if he finds out you’ve visited me he’ll be very angry.’

'I can't see why,’ said Laura, puzzled. ‘It’s inhuman to expect you to remain here. It would drive me mad looking at the same four walls day after day
.'

‘That s how I feel sometimes,' said Helen softly. ‘If only I could walk, escape from this—this prison!’

Moved to sympathy, Laura asked gently, ‘Your legs, Helen—what's the matter with them?’

‘I was in a car accident.’ The words were scarcely audible and Laura leaned forward to hear what she was saying. ‘The doctors say I'll never walk again.’

Her lips trembled and Laura laid a comforting hand on her arm. ‘Have you never considered using a wheelchair?’

Helen nodded, her eyes moist. ‘But Brad wouldn’t hear of it. He couldn’t bear to see me around him—a perpetual reminder of what happened.’

‘What a heartless brute he is,’ said Laura feelingly, privately determined to have a word with him. He deserved to be told in no uncertain terms what a merciless, cold-hearted person he was. It was unforgivable to treat his sister like this. How would he feel if the positions were reversed? Not very happy, she guessed. No one would. Helen was right when she referred to it as a prison. It was like being in solitary confinement, paying penance for something that was not her fault.

As Laura lay in bed that night she wondered why Helen did not face up to Brad, insist she was allowed more freedom. How long had the poor girl been imprisoned in her room? Weeks, months, maybe years? It was incredible to believe that Brad was capable of such callousness. Had he ever stopped to think of the future? Helen couldn’t stay there for ever—growing old and stagnant like a cabbage. It was enough to drive anyone insane. She would tackle Brad as soon as he returned, make him see how wrong he was and insist Helen be allowed downstairs with company of, her own age.

The next morning, after she had sorted the mail, she once again slipped upstairs to Helen’s room. This time her knock was answered. Helen sat up in bed, a froth of pink lace round her shoulders, a touch of blue shadow emphasising the clear grey of her eyes, her lips outlined with vivid pink lipstick. Smiling, she patted the bed. 'I hoped you’d come. Sit here. It's been so long since I had anyone to talk to apart from Jenny and Brad I feel quite excited
.'

Laura crossed the room, her feet sinking into the luxurious grey carpet. ‘What do you do with yourself all day? You must find it terribly boring.’

‘I do,’ Helen grimaced. ‘I spend most of the morning reading newspapers and magazines, then later Brad helps me to my chair by the window—although there’s not much to see.’ Her voice grew peevish. ‘No one bothers to come now I’m a cripple. I used to throw weekend parties for my friends from London. But now —no one wants to know me.’

How tragic, sympathised Laura, that this beautiful creature was condemned to a life of inactivity. She was more determined than ever to try and make Brad understand the futility of keeping Helen away from other people. Signs of bitterness were already apparent and this would increase over the years until she became a complaining, disillusioned old woman. Resolutely Laura made up her mind to do all in her power to prevent this from happening.

'At least you have me,’ she said. ‘I’ll come and see you as often as I can, although Mr. Stuart keeps me pretty busy.’

‘What’s it like—-working for Brad?’ asked Helen, picking up a hand mirror and studying her flawless complexion. 'I expect he treats you terribly, as he does me?’ She observed Laura closely, waiting for her reply, almost as if the other girl’s answer was important to her.

Laura chose her words with care. ‘He’s not a bad boss. He expects a high degree of efficiency, but so long as he gets that he’s satisfied.'

‘And what do you think of him as a man?' Helen’s eyes sparkled. ‘He told me that all his other secretaries imagined themselves to be in love with him.’

Laura’s heartbeats quickened as she recalled the feel of his hand on hers, the delightful anticipation she had experienced at the thought of another day out with him, but she deliberately kept her face expressionless. ‘So I believe. What has he told you about me?’