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Helen laughed. ‘Confidentially, he says you’re a spitfire. He blames it on your hair—I think it’s a gorgeous colour—but really, I think he enjoys the conflict, in contrast to all those other weak-willed girls who scurried round like mice at his slightest word.’

‘I pity the poor girl he marries,’ said Laura. ‘Besides loving him she’ll need to have the patience of Job, the diplomacy of a politician and a sense of humour to see her through all the bad times.’

‘You don’t see yourself in that role?’ asked Helen bluntly.

‘Definitely not. He’s far too domineering. I’m not the sort who’d make a meek, submissive wife.’

‘Pity. I’d enjoy having you as a sister-in-law
.'
At that moment Mrs. Jennings entered with coffee for the two girls. Laura was thankful for the interruption as the conversation had become a little too personal for her liking. She had felt suddenly breathless at the thought of Brad, but was at a loss to understand why.

‘I thought I’d find you here,’ said the housekeeper. ‘Miss Helen told me you visited her yesterday. I hope the master doesn’t find out. He gave me instructions that I was to let no one up.’

‘Surely he won’t mind me?’ responded Laura anxiously. ‘I think it’s jolly unkind of him to keep Helen here like
this.
If I had my way I’d—’

‘Now, now, miss,' interrupted Mrs. Jennings. ‘We all know what he’s like. What he decides is his own business. We’re paid to do a job and we mustn’t interfere in his private life.'

‘I suppose you’re right,' conceded Laura reluctantly. ‘But it doesn’t alter the fact that I think he’s heartless and cruel. If he were my brother I’d make sure he didn’t treat me like he treats Helen.’

Helen smiled indulgently. 'If you have to rely on him for a home you'd learn to accept his rules.’

Mrs. Jennings retreated, turning at the door to ask : ‘Will you be wanting your lunch in here, Laura?’

‘Please. If it’s not too much trouble and Helen doesn’t mind.’

Of course not. It will make a welcome change.’ The dark curls bounced as Helen shook her head.

'Would you like me to help you out of bed?’ asked Mrs. Jennings next.

‘I’ll stay here today, jenny. Now I’ve got someone to talk to I don’t mind.’

As you wish. Miss Helen.' Mrs. Jennings clucked disapprovingly, but Helen laughed as she closed the door.

‘I’m glad you’re here, Laura. Otherwise she’d have made me get up. She says I must try and use my legs, even though she has to drag me into the chair. Silly old woman,' she added disrespectfully.

Laura decided it was time to change the subject. She was very fond of the housekeeper and did not like to hear the other girl speak of her in such disparaging tones.

‘What did you do before your accident, Helen? Did you live here then?’

‘Oh, no.' The grey eyes were animated. ‘I lived in London. I came home weekends, but you see, I was an actress.’ She thrust back her head in a theatrical gesture. ‘Not a very well known one, I admit, but I was beginning to make a name for myself. Mummy wanted me to be a ballet dancer like herself, but I’d set my heart on the theatre. When she died I gave up dancing altogether, much to Brad’s disgust.’

‘Surely it didn’t concern him?’

‘He felt responsible for me. Our father died when we were small and as we grew up Brad tried to take his place.' She pulled a long face. ‘He said I was letting down the family name. But there wasn’t much he could do about it—I was eighteen and well able to take care of myself. We’ve never really seen eye to eye since. That’s probably why he’s so horrible towards me now.’ She pouted prettily.

Laura, shocked that Helen’s career should have been cut off so abruptly, said, ‘Surely if you’re good enough they could find you sitting-down parts? It would be better than nothing.’

A glimpse of something like horror appeared on the other girl’s face, but it was gone instantly to be replaced by self-pity. ‘Brad would never let me. It would humiliate him to think that other people could see me—-like this, utterly helpless. Put my cup on the table, there’s a darling. I think I’ll have a sleep before lunch.’ She passed a weary hand across her forehead. 'I feel so tired all of a sudden. It must be because I’m not used to visitors.’

Laura spent the next hour walking in the grounds, kicking her feet through the drifts of leaves that had now fallen. She was puzzled by the expression she had seen on Helen’s face, convinced that tiredness had been an excuse to get rid of her. There was something she still did not know, and the more she thought about it the more puzzled she became. She was not surprised, therefore, when Mrs. Jennings told her later that Helen had refused lunch and did not want to be disturbed for the rest of the day.

Contrary to her previous decision not to leave the house when she should be working, Laura decided to take the Mini into Shrewsbury and do some shopping. It would take her mind off Helen and she could buy some wool to knit herself a thick sweater for the winter. The weather was already getting too cold to venture out of doors after dinner and it would help fill in the long evenings.

It did not take her long to finish her shopping and afterwards she went into the same little restaurant where she had eaten with Brad—was it really only a little over a week ago? It seemed as though she had been living at Leastone Hall for much longer.

As she sipped her coffee, savouring the strong, aromatic flavour, Brad’s familiar voice reached her ears. At first she thought she must be mistaken. He wasn't due back until this evening. It was probably someone else with a similar inflection. Then she saw him—giving an order in his deep, authoritative tones to a blushing waitress.

Almost as though he was aware of her eyes on him he looked up, smiling as he recognised his secretary, beckoning her to join him.

‘We seem to make a habit of meeting here,' he said, as she placed her coffee cup on the table. ‘I see you've been doing some shopping.’

‘Y-yes.' Laura felt embarrassed at being caught out by her employer when she should have been working. 'I'd finished your typing and I wanted a few things, so I thought I’d—I’m sorry if—'

‘There’s no need to apologise.’ He looked kindly at her, ‘I’m not complaining. Your time’s your own when I’m not there. I know you wouldn’t play truant if there was work to be done. Would you care to join me for a meal?’

Relieved by his attitude, Laura smiled, unaware of the attractive picture she made. The cool wind had brought a healthy glow to her cheeks and her beautiful green eyes sparkled as she replied, ‘Thank you—no, I haven’t long eaten. But do carry on. I shall be going in a minute.’

‘Oh no, you won’t,’ he said firmly. ‘You can stay here, then we’ll drive home together. I could do with your company right now. It’s been a tiring week.’

‘But the Mini—it’s in the car park.’

‘Then it can stay there. I’ll send Jarvis for it tomorrow.’

The waitress brought Brad’s meal and they were silent for a while as he hungrily did justice to the gammon and pineapple.

He then ordered another coffee for Laura and one for himself. Laura wondered whether now was the time to speak to him about Helen, while he was in such a good humour. Before she could speak, however, he started telling her about the talks he had given that week. He had never discussed his work with her before and she found it very interesting. His voice seemed to hypnotise her and she sat as if in a trance, even after he had finished.

Suddenly he nudged her arm. ‘Come back, Laura. It’s time to go.’ He gathered up her parcels and she hurried by his side to the Jaguar which was parked a few yards away.

They drove in silence for a few minutes, then when they were out of the busy streets Laura gathered up her courage to say, ‘Why haven’t you told me about Helen? I would have gone to see her before if I’d known how much she craved company.'

Laura sensed his sudden withdrawal and clenched her fists tightly as she waited for his reply. When at last he spoke his voice was distant. ‘You’ve been to see Helen ?’

'Y-yes. We had quite a talk.’ She tried hard to keep her voice natural, realising that Brad was annoyed and that the earlier easy friendship had disappeared.

‘And may I ask who gave you permission?' Once again he was the master, and Laura felt her blood begin to boil.

‘I wasn’t aware I needed permission. I felt sorry for her all alone in that great house and decided to find out for myself why she stayed in her room.'

‘And?’ His voice was icy as he slanted a cutting glance in her direction.

'I found out that it’s
you
who won't let her come down.' Laura’s voice rose passionately. ‘You keep her up there, deny her any visitors. How can you treat her like that? Are you ashamed of her because she can't walk?'

Brad swung the car into the side of the road, killed the engine, and turned towards her.

‘Miss Templeton, I don't really see that it’s any concern of yours what goes on in my house, but as you've found it necessary to interest yourself in my affairs I think you’d better know the truth.'

Laura faced him bravely. ‘I do know the truth. I have no reason to disbelieve anything your sister has told me, If you think you're going to put yourself right in my eyes you’re mistaken
.'

He nodded slowly. ‘Talent gone to waste. She’s still a good actress.’

Laura frowned, puzzled. ‘What do you mean? What has her acting to do with the present situation?’

‘Nothing—nothing at all.’ His voice was tired now, as if he was weary of the whole affair.

He restarted the engine and during the silence that followed Laura recalled Helen’s horrified look at her suggestion she carry on acting. In view of Brad s reaction it would seem she had been mistaken in feeling sorry for Helen. He had more or less insinuated that Helen had been acting. If this was so it could throw a different light on to the story, but she couldn’t possibly ask Brad now—not after she had refused to listen to him. One look at his grim face told her that the subject was closed. She would have to try and find out for herself exactly what was going on in this strange household.

AFTER dinner Laura settled In front of a blazing log fire in the comfortable lounge where she had become accustomed to spending her evenings. She had bought some vivid green wool and was looking forward to starting her jumper.

She had seen no more of Brad since they reached home. He had not appeared at dinner and no light shone from beneath his study door. It was her guess that he was upstairs with Helen—probably telling her off for allowing Laura to visit her.

Suddenly the door opened and Mrs. Jennings burst in. ‘Mr. Stuart wants to see you. In Miss Helen’s room.' She bit her lip worriedly. ‘I hope you’re not in trouble;

‘Don’t worry, Jenny,' smiled Laura with more confidence than she felt. ‘I’ve already told him about seeing Helen. Perhaps he’s decided he would like me to visit her after all.'

Jenny’s brow cleared. 'I hope you’re right. Mind you don’t keep him waiting, now.’

Laura packed her knitting into a bag at the side of her chair and followed the housekeeper into the hall. Upstairs raised voices came from Helen’s room. About to knock she heard her own name mentioned and involuntarily halted.

I don’t care what you thought. You had no right to lie to Miss Templeton,' Brad said with some asperity. Laura held her breath, waiting for Helen’s reply. She knew she ought not to listen, but there was something about hearing herself discussed that rooted her to the spot.

When Helen did speak her voice held a whining, unpleasant tone, in complete contrast to the soft, husky pitch she had used when speaking to Laura.

‘I didn’t want her to know that I can’t bear the thought of anyone seeing me like this—that’s why I said you kept me here. Oh, I wish I was dead, and you can tell your precious Miss Templeton that I don’t want to see her again. Do you know, she even suggested I went back on the stage?’ Her laugh was harsh, brittle. 'I don’t want pity—and that’s all I’d get if I displayed myself in public!’

Laura bit her lip so hard she drew blood, yet was scarcely aware of the pain. So Helen had been lying after all! What a convincing performance she had put on. Laura had really thought she wanted to be friends, yet listening to the venom in her voice now she knew that it had all been play-acting. That she had despised the thought of Laura seeing her.

She waited breathlessly for Brad’s reply, but it was soft and inaudible, so Laura chose that moment to knock, not wishing to be caught eavesdropping. How true it was that a listener never hears any good of oneself, she thought as she opened the door.

Her employer had his back to her, looking ostensibly through the uncurtained window at the star-spangled sky. Helen was in a chair beside him, but she too avoided looking at Laura, examining her impeccably manicured nails as though they were of the utmost importance.

Laura stood awkwardly in the centre of the room wondering why she had been summoned, and wishing one of them would speak instead of ignoring her as though she were an intruder.

At length Brad turned. He looked from Laura to Helen, his eyes softening slightly as they rested on the shining curls. Helen was too intent scrutinising her hands to notice the look he gave her.

‘I went to see a specialist while I was away
.'
His voice was gently persuasive. ‘He thinks he may be able to do something for you.’

Helen’s head shot up, her eyes ablaze. 'I've had enough of doctors and hospitals! Why on earth do you have to interfere? I won t have anyone else look at me as though I were some prize specimen in a zoo!'

He dropped to his knees beside her. ‘Look, Helen,' he cajoled. ‘He’s very good, the best in his field. He has a private clinic in London, You’ll have your own room. It will practically be like living at home.’

‘No, I refuse! I don’t care how good he is, I’m not going!’ Her face was contorted with fury and she banged her fists against Brad’s chest.

He caught her hands, trying to still her rage, but Helen snatched free and this time her wrath was directed at Laura. She pointed a red-tipped finger. ‘And why did you insist upon
her
being present when you told me?’