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“I certainly don’t,” retorted Lorna, jumping off the bed. “Margo’s not like that. He must have given her some encouragement.”

“Don’t get me wrong,” said Fay. “I’m only trying to help. If you’ve got to sit by Ashley every mealtime for the next few days it might be better if you saw him in a kinder light.”

“Never!” declared Lorna emphatically. “I shall never,
ever
forgive him. He can think what he likes. I shall just ignore him It’s what he deserves. No doubt he expects everyone to fall at his feet—you only have to look at him to see that. He’s so superior, so awfully sure of himself, but—” she pointed a finger to herself, “this is one girl he won’t have any success with. Oh, come on,” flinging open the door, “let’s get out of here—if I think any more about him I shall go mad!”

The two girls spent an energetic hour playing tennis before Fay spotted some friends and left Lorna to her own devices. She lay for a while in the sun, allowing its rays to beat down on to her already lightly tanned body. She was later to take part in a general knowledge contest, but at the moment felt too deliciously lazy to move. She was almost asleep when she felt a light touch on her arm.

Looking up, she saw Ashley Ward squatting beside her, an enigmatic gleam in his blue eyes. “You’re burning! Beautiful though your body is, I think you should cover it up.”

Hotly aware of his lingering gaze over her exposed limbs, Lorna shot to her feet, gathering up the white dress she had worn over her bikini. “I think I know what I’m doing,” she said indignantly, unwilling to admit that she had lain in the sun longer than she intended. “I was just about to get up. If you’ll excuse me, I have a prior engagement.”

“Yes, I know,” he said softly, causing her to turn and look wonderingly at him. He wore only brief blue shorts and his powerful muscles rippled under a bronzed skin. As he was several inches taller than Lorna she was forced to look up, and despite her antipathy could not help being aware of his virile masculinity. In different circumstances she supposed she would have found herself attracted to him. He was all man, of that there was no doubt.

“It’s no secret,” he continued in answer to her unspoken question. “There’s a list on the notice board of all the participants in this afternoon’s quiz.”

“I see,” said Lorna, her heartbeats quickening at the thought that he too might have entered. Before going back to her cabin she would see if his name was down. She couldn’t bring herself to ask—he might interpret it as interest in himself—but she knew for sure that if it was she would scratch her own name. She had no desire to take part in any activity where Ashley Ward was concerned.

The notice board was further along the Promenade Deck outside the Assembly Room where the contest was to be held. Mustering up her dignity, Lorna walked away from Ashley Ward, intensely conscious of her half naked body as he watched her go.

With relief she saw that his name was absent from the list of contenders and felt much better as she stepped into the lift which would take her down to “B” Deck.

She dressed in a simple blue gingham frock, brushing her hair until it shone like burnished gold. Her hair was one thing of which she was justly proud and although in the intense heat it was cooler to keep it pinned up she decided for once to leave it loose. It gave her the confidence she needed for the forthcoming event. Lorna had had no intention of entering when the competition was announced, but Fay had persuaded her. It was all in fun, she had said, and Lorna had eventually agreed, but now she began to wonder whether she would regret her decision.

The names of the other contestants meant nothing to her apart from Martin Douglas who was a schoolmaster and his daughter Evelyn who was going to university in South Africa. These two were formidable opponents, but they had laughingly told Lorna that there was a fair chance for everyone.

In the Assembly Room a table for the contestants had been placed at one end, with the quizmaster’s chair at the head. The rest of the chairs were arranged in rows for the audience. Lorna was one of the first to arrive and nervously took her seat at the end furthest from the quizmaster. There were only ten contestants, which Lorna privately considered a poor show, taking into account the hundreds on the ship, but consoled herself with the fact that it was all the fewer to compete against.

As the hall began to fill and the other contestants arrive Lorna looked apprehensively around for Ashley Ward. His presence would immediately put her off, she decided, and she was considerably relieved when she could not see him. Fay waved from the middle of the front row, putting up her thumbs in a good luck gesture.

At last the room was full, the competitors all present; they were waiting only for the quizmaster.

All the lamps except those directly over the main table were lowered and out of the gloom Lorna suddenly saw the tall shape of Ashley Ward step forward into the circle of light. He appeared to look directly at her as he proceeded to his seat at the head of the table, and with a sinking feeling Lorna wondered precisely what she had let herself in for.

SILENCE fell over the assembled passengers as Ashley Ward took his seat. Silence, that was, except for the pounding of Lorna’s heart. She was certain it must be audible to Martin Douglas who sat next to her, but when she looked at him he smiled encouragingly, giving no indication that he was aware of her dismay.

No one had known who the quizmaster was going to be, although Lorna had somehow assumed it would be a member of the ship’s crew. The other contestants must be equally surprised, she decided, except that none of them had any reason to dislike him. It was a personal emotion which grew in intensity every time they met.

“Good afternoon,” began Ashley Ward in his deep voice. He smiled briefly at the contestants, looking, thought Lorna, very sure of himself, with no outward sign of any antagonism towards her. It rankled that he should be in complete control of his feelings when she herself felt considerably unnerved. Dressed in a beige silk shirt, open at the neck to reveal the brown column of his throat, he looked if possible more handsome than ever, Lorna conceded reluctantly, his hair sleeked back instead of falling across his brow in its usual unruly style. But she herself felt tense and sat on the edge of her seat listening as he continued his opening speech.

“I’m honoured to have been asked to preside over this contest today and very pleased to see so many of you here. But,” looking out across the room, “why are you sitting out there—surely you should be up here, taking part? Are you all too shy?”

He paused as a loud “yes” came from the audience.

“I see,” he smiled. “That accounts for it. Well— I’ll start by introducing the contestants, and for anyone who doesn’t know me—my name is Ashley Ward.”

A murmur ran round the rows of people as they recognised their speaker, but it quickly died down as he continued, “On my right is Professor Charles Dickens—no relation, I’m afraid, to his famous predecessor—although he is equally famous in his own right as a lecturer of law at one of England’s better known universities. I shall not mention its name, although if anyone knows who won the boat race last year they won’t be far out.”

Everyone smiled approval as he continued, “Next we have Miss Penelope Trulove, who is a nursing Sister. She is dedicated to her career and I suppose we could say that she has a true love for nursing.” The audience clapped and Miss Trulove, a thin grey-haired woman in her mid-fifties, smiled tolerantly. No doubt she had heard it so many times before, thought Lorna, that the joke must have worn a little thin. She felt sorry for the woman and smiled across at her sympathetically. Ashley was now well in his stride and as her own turn drew near Lorna wondered what sort of introduction he would apply to her. She soon found out.

“And now we have Miss Lorna Ridgeway—one of our
younger
contestants.”

Lorna drew in a deep breath, resenting his implication that she was little more than a schoolgirl.

“She is a—” he paused, lifting his eyebrows slightly, “—a
Girl Friday
for a shipping agency in London.”

Lorna fumed inwardly. If she had known who was to read the cards they had filled out she certainly wouldn’t have put that. She was actually a personal secretary to the Export Manager of Boom Enterprises, but he had always called her his Girl Friday and it had seemed a good title as she was always at his beck and call.

“Your boss wouldn’t be Robinson Crusoe, by any chance?” asked Ashley Ward in apparent innocence, although Lorna was aware of the barbs beneath the surface.

Blushing furiously, she would have liked nothing better than to walk out of the room, away from this arrogant man who seemed intent on degrading her. Instead she smiled through gritted teeth, saying, “No, I’m sorry. It’s Daniel Defoe.”

The audience roared and even Ashley admitted, “Touché!” but Lorna felt near to tears and clenched her fists so tightly that the nails cut into her palms.

The first round, according to the quizmaster, would be easy; to get them relaxed and into the atmosphere of the occasion. However, he shot the questions at them in such quickfire succession that they had little time to relax.

They all answered correctly, scoring a maximum of three points each. The second round was a spelling bee. Lorna was asked to spell
jodhpurs
, and although she thought she detected a steely glint in Ashley’s eyes, as though he wanted her to fail, she was able to spell it easily. It might be tricky, but she knew it.

The next round on Greek mythology caused considerable head scratching, and even though Lorna could answer many of the other questions, when it came to her own turn she was forced to admit defeat. And she was sure this time that she saw a hint of satisfaction on Ashley’s face.

She put on a brave smile, but as the contest continued became more and more certain that Ashley was deliberately trying to humiliate her. For some inexplicable reason he would derive great pleasure if she failed to answer correctly. The questions he asked became increasingly difficult and Lorna felt the sympathy of the other members of the team as she was forced to attempt such posers as:
What is tritium? Which country is Mogadishu the capital of? Who was the founder of Detroit?
What he did not realise was how well read Lorna was and she surprised herself by dragging up from the recesses of her mind most of the answers.

The quiz lasted for an hour and at the end, when all the points had been added up, Lorna was surprised to find that she had tied for third place with Martin Douglas. The undoubted winner was the Professor, as most people had anticipated, and second came Juliet Railley, a quiet little housewife with a huge bullnecked husband who had also entered the competition but had been able to answer hardly any of his questions.

Lorna felt no elation. To her the whole contest had been a private battle with Ashley Ward—and she still smarted from his first derogatory remarks about her job.

As the lights came on Fay ran towards Lorna. “You did marvellously, but I do think
he
—” with a nod of her head towards Ashley where he stood talking to Charles Dickens, “could have made your questions a little easier. Everyone was saying how unfair he was. I mean, he helped some of the others, so why not you?”

Lorna shrugged. “I suppose it’s my own fault for showing my dislike of him. Anyway, it was all in fun, so who’s worrying?” She tried to assume a casualness she was far from feeling. “I did better than I expected.”

“You should have won,” said Fay loyally. “I’ve a good mind to tell that man exactly what I think of him.”

“Don’t you dare!” retorted Lorna. “He won’t thank you for interfering. This is a private war between the two of us—and I know which side’s going to win.”

“Atta-girl! ” smiled Fay. “Let’s go and have a swim before dinner. It’s so hot in here I can hardly breathe.”

The two girls joined the throng leaving the hall, Lorna receiving many congratulations, and before long they were in the pool. After a few lengths Lorna turned on her back, floating lazily on the surface of the water. At one time during the quiz she had begun to wonder whether it was her imagination that Ashley was asking her harder questions than anyone else. But now that Fay had mentioned it, and judging by the sympathetic whispers from the audience as they left, so too had a number of other people, she could only assume it was correct. He had certainly delivered each question with, to her, a malicious satisfaction, yet why should he go to such lengths to attempt to embarrass her? He had been ready enough with his assurance that her impression of him as a playboy was wrong, so why set out now to create a further bad concept of himself? It didn’t make sense.

Lorna dressed carefully for dinner, preparing for another battle of words with her newly acquired enemy. Perhaps, she thought hopefully as she arrived at her table to find it empty, he had decided to revert to his former seat after this morning’s little skirmish? It was a welcoming thought, but one destined to a quick death as he came striding towards her a few minutes later.

Several heads turned in their direction and Lorna could imagine the tongues that would be wagging. Passengers who had been present that afternoon, telling their fellow passengers about the general knowledge quiz.

To her amazement Ashley smiled as he took his seat. “Congratulations, you did very well.”

“With no thanks to you,” she said icily, still rankled by his earlier attitude.

His smile faded. “What do you mean?”

“Nothing really,” she said. “It doesn’t matter.”

“Oh, but it does. I’m curious now, and once my curiosity’s roused I stop at nothing.”

Lorna could see he meant every word. “Very well,” she said slowly. “Can you tell me why it is you seemed to delight in asking me questions to which you were sure I wouldn’t know the answers?”

“Really!” He raised dark brows expressively. “Is that what you think? Now how did you arrive at that conclusion?”