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Patricia Farmer was a frivolous woman in many ways, but she had a good head for business, and with the help of one of her new friends she opened an antique shop. She dressed impeccably, and as Minella grew older and showed signs of becoming a very attractive girl, she enjoyed buying her expensive clothes. It was as if she was dressing a doll. What she couldn’t give her in the way of love she tried to make up for with money, but Minella never had any illusions. She was a nuisance to her mother. Greg was nearly old enough to be off her hands, but she was saddled with Minella for many years yet.

But though Patricia had little time for her daughter, the ties with her son grew stronger, and soon after leaving college she had drawn him into the antiques business. She resented it when he was at the sailing club, and involved him in discussions about hallmarks and glazing until he was as enthusiastic about antiques as she had intended him to be. Minella watched him growing stuffier and less fun to be with, too much in his mother’s company, and she worried about him. Some instinct beyond her years warned her that her mother was using him to compensate for her own loneliness, yet she refused to turn to Minella who needed her love so badly.

She was fifteen when she met Annette Moran. Annette joined the staff of Minella’s school when she was in the fourth year, and they were drawn together by recognition of a loneliness each thought was well hidden. Minella was happy at school, but she had never encouraged close friendships, as the older girl discovered when both sought the same retreat on several consecutive dinner hours. They began to talk and found they shared mutual interests, sailing among them, and it was not long before Minella invited her to the sailing club. Friendship grew between them in spite of the difference in their ages, and she liked Annette more than any girl she had ever met. More than anything she wanted her to meet her brother.

‘You’ll like Greg,’ she had said. ‘He’s the most wonderful brother in all the world.’

‘I’m sure he is,’ said Annette.

But she was in no hurry to meet him, and it was soon obvious she was putting forward every excuse to avoid it. Minella was hurt, but on one rare occasion when they were talking of personal things Annette spoke of her past.

‘I don’t trust men any more. The one I was going to marry ran out on me, and I’d loved him more than anyone on earth. We’d made such marvellous plans for the future, but everything changed when he was injured and lost his job. It made no difference to the way I felt, but he was very bitter and he didn’t want me any more. I was ready to give up everything for him, but he went off without a word and I’ve never heard from him again. It was
so
cruel.’

Minella’s young, romantic heart ached for her. How could anyone walk out on a girl as beautiful as Annette, so poised and tall and blonde? With youthful fervour she declared that if ever she came across the man she would tell him exactly what she thought of such despicable behaviour. How Annette had laughed!

‘Well, Greg would never do an awful thing like that,’ Minella had declared. ‘When you meet him you’ll know all men are not worthless. You’ll love him, just like I do.’

And that was how it was, except that Annette loved him enough to say she would marry him. It had brought Minella a little closer to her mother, who had resented the marriage bitterly at first, but there was no one as dear to her as her brother and his wife.

Now she would never see either of them again, and her grief was too deep for tears. She felt completely empty, devoid of all emotion, and all she could do was stare at the blank wall until sleep mercifully claimed her once more.

The next day she was stronger. In the night she had woken up to hear rain beating on the window, and the sound of it had unleashed a flood of tears which she had shed almost silently until all her crying was done. She was alone now and in a foreign land where no one would want to be burdened with her sorrow, so the sooner she picked up the pieces and faced her situation the easier it would be. There was no one to fight her battles, no one to give her advice, and she was answerable to no one but herself. For a moment the outlook was too bleak to contemplate, but Minella always faced life bravely, and the practice she had had stood her in good stead.

As soon as it was light she got up and dressed in the sweat-shirt and jeans she had been wearing when she was rescued. Benita had washed them for her. Then she walked out into the garden on shaky legs which didn’t seem to belong to her.

The air was beautiful and the smell of the earth after rain reminded her of the park in Brighton. But nothing was less like Brighton than the breathtaking view of the lake, like a jewel amidst the lush green vegetation and scintillating as a diamond in the early morning sun.

At the edge of the garden was a fence where bougainvillaea splashed red and purple disguise over the old wooden panels, and as she walked beside it she came unexpectedly upon a path that dropped steeply away from the cultivated spread of lawn and flowers. She stood at the narrow opening, so well hidden that only close inspection revealed it was there, and was lured by the pull of secrecy it suggested. The path itself was not overgrown. Once past the concealed divide it widened out and steps had been cut at intervals to make the going easier. Minella took it slowly, wishing she had her normal bouncing energy, for she would have loved to take the steep descent at a run, but by the time she reached the bottom she was so tired she wondered how she would find the strength for the climb back. She must have been out of her mind to attempt it, but she had never been able to resist exploring interesting places. This time it hardly seemed worth the effort. There was only the lake and a grove of trees that looked like beech, the leaves still catching the pink tints of an Azorean dawn.

Then she saw the little stone building beyond the trees, and straight away curiosity conquered all physical weakness. The path now led down below the tree line and she followed it until she was almost at the water’s edge and was walking over a greyish-black sand. The hut was to the right and she came to it just as the sun rose high enough to shine on creeper-covered walls where the flowers were as big as trumpets, and would go on bathing it in light until it was well past its zenith.

It was very warm already, and she hadn’t realised how exhausted she was, but having reached her goal she would not be beaten until she had seen what was inside the hut. It was a squat, square building with just one room, and the wooden door was locked. The single window was fairly high, but by standing on tiptoe she could just glimpse the interior where the sun shone like a spotlight into one corner. Then she sank back on her heels and gradually down to the ground until she was leaning against the wall, and she was very puzzled by what she had seen.

Canvases. Yes, that was what they were. Large paintings, some of them in frames, were stored here, packed together and stacked in the corner in all innocence, because no one would be suspicious of a picturesque hut by the lakeside even if they knew of its existence. Minella was suddenly so hot she had to move into the ^hade. She had stumbled upon a mystery, she was convinced of it, and she was not sure whether she wanted to investigate any further.

Her head was spinning and she pressed her fingers to her temples, trying to recall fragments of conversation, but time plays strange tricks and she was separated from those memories by shock and fever which made it difficult to know how long ago it was she had spoken to Vasco. If only her mind was clearer! Perhaps she was imagining things. Vasco had said that Sam didn’t like being asked questions, hinting that there were things in his past he didn’t want known. Surely she hadn’t dreamed it.

She closed her eyes and remembered how Sam had shouted when he found Benita had brought her to the house. He definitely hadn’t wanted her there, and he hadn’t wanted Vasco either. In fact he didn’t want anyone trespassing on his solitude, with the exception of Benita herself whom he needed to cook for him and keep his house in order, and who was probably too trusting to have any doubts about him anyway.

Sam Stafford was a very mysterious man, and the more Minella thought about it the more convinced she became he had a lot to hide. It wasn’t natural to guard his privacy the way he did, objecting to visitors and cutting himself off from the world. He didn’t seem to have an occupation, so what did he live on? The house was not luxurious, but he had everything he wanted and some of the ornaments around looked costly as far as Minella could tell with her limited knowledge of values. And he had to pay Benita a wage. He was cultured, too. His voice was low and attractive, the accent pure, and just hearing it in her mind made her pause and wonder if she should reconsider her suspicions. But criminals could be very gullible, and on the level she was beginning to class him it was likely he came from an intellectual background. She had read about art thefts. No amateur would get away with the type of crime she saw emerging. Sam Stafford could be involved in thefts worth millions of pounds if those canvases were works of art. How clever of him to have gone to ground in such an idyllic spot!

Perhaps it would have been better if she hadn’t followed the path down to the lake. If this really was a hiding place for stolen treasure it must never be known that she had discovered it. Her life might even be in danger. She leaned her head back against the stonework and closed her eyes, a peculiar fluttering sensation upsetting her stomach.

She didn’t want Sam to be a man in exile, unable to return to his own country for fear of detection. He affected her strangely, excited her, yet made her angry with his arrogant manner, and she knew she must get away from him as soon as possible, though where she would go she had no idea. Anywhere would be better than staying in his house now that she was beset by such terrible doubts.

She must get back to the garden before anyone missed her. It would never do for Benita to raise an alarm when she came in with breakfast and found the bedroom empty. She got to her feet and felt dizzy, but after a moment it passed and she took a few uncertain steps. Then an overwhelming itch to take one more peep inside the hut made her turn and stand again on tiptoe at the window.

Her nose was still pressed to the window when Sam’s angry voice made her stiffen with fright.

‘What the hell are you doing down here? Get down from there this minute!’

His feet hadn’t made a sound on the soft black sand and he was behind her before she had a chance to escape.

‘I couldn’t stay in bed any longer,’ she said, sliding round to face him, and she clasped her hands in front of her like a schoolgirl caught misbehaving. She looked very small and young, her brown hair falling across her forehead in a fringe which almost obscured her vision, and she licked her top lip nervously.

‘You must be mad, girl! Getting up from a sickbed and coming this far! I knew I couldn’t trust you.’

‘Oh, but you can,’ she interrupted swiftly. ‘The view was so beautiful I just had to come down to the lake, and then I wondered if anyone lived in the hut.’

‘You’re an interfering brat, too nosey for your own good,’ he stormed. ‘And you deserve to be ill again. When I went in the bedroom and found you weren’t there I couldn’t believe it!’

Her eyes flashed. ‘You shouldn’t have come into my bedroom.’ She didn’t know how appealing she looked with her pale cheeks and wide, innocent eyes.

‘The room is mine,’ he reminded her. ‘And as I’ve helped nurse you through a fever and sat with you while you were delirious you could say I’m getting used to seeing you in bed, so there’s no need for you to object. You’ve no sense at all.’ He towered over her and she wanted to get away, but the wall was behind her. ‘Now I’ll carry you back.’

‘You’ll do no such thing!’ Minella shouted. ‘I walked down here, and I’ll walk back, thank you very much!’ The sun was in her eyes and she squinted at him, swaying a little. He reached out to steady her, but she darted away, terrified he might touch her. Summoning all her strength, she made for the path and concentrated on each step, knowing that he would follow her. The climb was as daunting as Everest, but she wouldn’t give in. Sam was close, on her heels and it was a cat-and-mouse game as she scrambled up the path, afraid he would catch her if she hesitated.

She tripped just before she reached the entrance to the garden at the top, and Sam took hold of her. He drew her back against him like a child who had run away, and she kicked and struggled, and bit the arm that pinioned her to him.

‘Let me go!’ she screamed. ‘I hate you! Let me go!’ He didn’t move, resisting her attack with rock-like firmness, but she felt him take a deep, angry breath. ‘You’re going to need my help, Minella, in a day or two when you’re strong enough to face the future. Don’t reject me out of hand or you might regret it.’

When he let her go she fled into the garden, across the lawn and into the house, which was still as peaceful as when she left it. Her heart was thudding painfully and she gasped for breath as she clung to the doorpost. She could see the bedroom across the way and her body ached with the need to lie down, but the bed was Sam’s and she couldn’t use it any more. After a minute she had recovered enough to go through to the patio, intending to rest on the sun-bed, but his clothes were there and the blanket he had been using. She felt trapped. Wherever she turned there was Sam Stafford, and she wanted to get away from him. Perspiration gathered under the fringe on her forehead, and yet she felt cold. The bedroom beckoned like a sanctuary and she returned to it reluctantly, going inside and shutting the door.

Sam knocked before he came in, and by then the sun was high.

‘I’ve brought you a belated breakfast,’ he said, setting down a tray of food. ‘Benita was late arriving. Her father’s needs were greater than yours this morning.’

He didn’t wait for an answer but went out again before she could even thank him. His abruptness made her stubborn and she contemplated pushing the tray away and not eating anything, but she was hungry and Benita had made it look tempting.