Mills & Boon is proud to present a fabulous collection of fantastic novels by bestselling, much loved author

ANNE MATHER

Anne has a stellar record of achievement within the

publishing industry, having written over one hundred

and sixty books, with worldwide sales of more than

forty-eight MILLION copies in multiple languages.

This amazing collection of classic stories offers a chance

for readers to recapture the pleasure Anne’s powerful,

passionate writing has given.

We are sure you will love them all!

I’ve always wanted to write—which is not to say I’ve always wanted to be a professional writer. On the contrary, for years I only wrote for my own pleasure and it wasn’t until my husband suggested sending one of my stories to a publisher that we put several publishers’ names into a hat and pulled one out. The rest, as they say, is history. And now, one hundred and sixty-two books later, I’m literally—excuse the pun—staggered by what’s happened.

I had written all through my infant and junior years and on into my teens, the stories changing from children’s adventures to torrid gypsy passions. My mother used to gather these manuscripts up from time to time, when my bedroom became too untidy, and dispose of them! In those days, I used not to finish any of the stories and Caroline, my first published novel, was the first I’d ever completed. I was newly married then and my daughter was just a baby, and it was quite a job juggling my household chores and scribbling away in exercise books every chance I got. Not very professional, as you can imagine, but that’s the way it was.

These days, I have a bit more time to devote to my work, but that first love of writing has never changed. I can’t imagine not having a current book on the typewriter—yes, it’s my husband who transcribes everything on to the computer. He’s my partner in both life and work and I depend on his good sense more than I care to admit.

We have two grown-up children, a son and a daughter, and two almost grown-up grandchildren, Abi and Ben. My e-mail address is mystic-am@msn.com and I’d be happy to hear from any of my wonderful readers.

Come Running
Anne Mather

www.millsandboon.co.uk

Table of Contents

Cover

About the Author

Title Page

CHAPTER ONE

CHAPTER TWO

CHAPTER THREE

CHAPTER FOUR

CHAPTER FIVE

CHAPTER SIX

CHAPTER SEVEN

CHAPTER EIGHT

CHAPTER NINE

CHAPTER TEN

CHAPTER ELEVEN

Copyright

CHAPTER ONE

The marquee was crowded with friends and relatives all wanting to wish the happy couple every happiness, and Darrell sought the coolness of the moist air outside. It was a pity it had rained, a wet day in the small North Yorkshire town of Sedgeley was not exactly the ideal beginning to a marriage, but Susan and Frank looked so happy that Darrell had to concede that the weather meant little to them. She sighed without envy. Without that move from the London hospital to the Sedgeley Infirmary, it could well have been herself and Barry taking the plunge, but she was glad it was not. She had liked Barry well enough, she still liked him, but not enough to marry him.

She glanced back into the marquee. The toasts were over. Any minute now, Susan and Frank would be leaving for Susan’s mother’s house to get changed before leaving on their honeymoon. They were going to Majorca – where else? thought Darrell wryly – and then chided herself for her cynicism. Susan was a nice girl, she liked her, and as fellow nurses, they worked well together.

Her heels were sinking into the damp ground beneath her feet and she looked down impatiently. The hem of her coffee-coloured gown was going to be ruined, but that couldn’t be helped. No one could have expected a week of torrential rain at the beginning of June which had made the area around the marquee a veritable quagmire.

A sudden breeze brought her hand to her head to secure the wide-brimmed straw boater and with her other hand plucking the hem of her skirt out of the mud, she became aware that she was being observed with some amusement by a man standing just inside the entrance to the marquee.

She knew who the man was. She had been introduced to him earlier. He was Matthew Lawford, Susan’s eldest brother, who, together with his wife, had come up from London for the wedding. But Darrell had heard about him before then. Susan talked about him a lot. She was very proud of her brother who had succeeded in getting to Oxford and was now one of the youngest financiers in the city. A tycoon, Susan called him, although Darrell suspected that was a word coined by her family and not by Matthew Lawford himself.

Her initial impressions of him were mixed. Physically, he was a very attractive man, with straight brown hair, brown eyes, and the kind of tan not associated with summers in Sedgeley. She guessed his age to be around thirty-two or thirty-three, and although his beginnings were not in doubt, several years living in London had smoothed out most of his accent. He was tall, without an ounce of superfluous flesh on his bones, and his clothes, obviously out of the class of those of his father and brothers, fitted him with ease and elegance. And yet elegant wasn’t a word Darrell would have used to describe him. His face was too hard for that, his manner occasionally exhibiting a toughness which would not be out of place in the wrestling ring. It was the sinuous way he moved that drew attention to his appearance, a kind of grace simulated with animal-like ease.

No, his appearance, his magnetism with women, was not in any doubt, and in other circumstances Darrell might have felt wary of him. But to counteract this feeling, there was the presence of Celine Lawford, his wife.

She was the discordant note in the whole proceedings, and Darrell had been unable to avoid noticing how unsuited she was to her present surroundings. Small and slender, with a cap of silvery blonde hair framing her piquantly attractive face, Celine was as striking as her husband, but it was obvious that she neither liked nor made any effort to mix with Matthew’s family. It was evident in the bored expression she had worn throughout the ceremony, and afterwards at the reception she had made it painfully apparent that she considered the arrangements gauche and lacking in refinement. Clearly, she had not attended the wedding willingly, and she considered her husband’s relatives coarse and vulgar.

It wasn’t true, of course. The Lawfords were a friendly crowd, and during the eight months Darrell had lived in Sedgeley, she had grown very fond of these down-to-earth northern people. But she, like everyone else, had had to learn to accept them for what they were and not try to change them. They had no time for artifice or pretension, whereas Celine no doubt was used to the bland sophistication of city life.

Matthew Lawford was different. Darrell had had to admit that to herself. He had fitted back into his surroundings with the ease of a chameleon, swallowing beers in the pub before the wedding with his father and four younger brothers as if he was used to doing this every day of his life. The Lawfords were a large family, Susan had two older married sisters as well as the younger one who had been bridesmaid, but it was Matthew who appeared to be the family favourite, and to be charitable Darrell had at first thought that Celine was jealous. She might well be, but it wasn’t just that. Whatever feelings she had for her husband, she cared nothing for his family, and Darrell had hoped that her attitude wouldn’t spoil Susan’s day. It hadn’t. The Lawford clan was too closeknit for that.

“Having problems?”

The attractive unfamiliar voice brought Darrell’s head up with a jerk to find the subject of her thoughts standing right in front of her, regarding her steadily. “Oh – not really,” she demurred, with a rueful smile. “It’s my fault for coming out here.”

Matthew’s eyes travelled down to the toes of her shoes emerging from the hem of her gown. “It was pretty humid in there, though, wasn’t it?” he commented, looking into her eyes again. He had a disturbingly direct stare that disconcerted her. “You’re Miss Anderson, aren’t you? Susan’s nursing friend?”

“Darrell Anderson,” supplied Darrell, nodding. “It’s a pity it’s been such a miserable day.”

“Do you believe in omens, Miss Anderson?” he enquired, and she thought he was teasing her.

“Not really.”

“Nor do I.” He smiled. “Would you believe I got married in a heatwave?”

Darrell found herself smiling, but she couldn’t help it, even though his remark had been outrageous. “I – are you going back to London tonight, Mr. Lawford?”

“You know who I am, then?”

Darrell looked up at him in surprise, and in spite of her five feet six inches she had to look up at him, holding her boater on to the back of her head. “Of course. You’re Susan’s brother.”

“And do you call all her brothers Mr. Lawford?”

Darrell shook her head, and he nodded. “So – the name’s Matthew, or Matt, if you’d rather. That’s what the family call me. And no, I’m not driving back to London tonight.”

Darrell could feel her hair working loose from the coronet she had secured on top of her head, and red-gold tendrils were tumbling about her ears. Dropping the hem of her skirt, she gave herself up to securing her hair, taking off her hat and sighing resignedly.

“I think I’m fighting a losing battle, don’t you?” she asked lightly, and then pointed into the marquee behind them. “Oh, look! Susan and Frank are leaving.”

The bride and groom left in a shower of confetti, the crowd surging after them to wave them off, and Darrell felt Matthew’s hand close round her wrist for a moment to prevent her from being swept along with them. For a moment she was close against him, his chest hard against the softness of her full breasts. Then he had set her free again and was saying apologetically: “Sorry about that, but people get carried away here – literally!” He smiled. “I understand my mother has invited you to join us at the house this evening. They don’t allow the excuse for a freak-out to go unchallenged around here. Perhaps you’ve noticed. Not that they’d call it a freak-out,” he amended wryly. “A knees-up, perhaps.” He paused. “Anyway, if you’d like to go home and change first, my car’s at your disposal.”

Darrell didn’t know what to say. She, who was usually so cool and collected with men, felt as nervous as a schoolgirl on her first date, and the feeling was unfamiliar and not altogether pleasant. She didn’t even know why she was feeling this way. Matthew Lawford had been amusing and polite, but nothing more. He was no doubt used to making small talk with his wife’s friends, and it meant no more to him than that. But a few moments ago, when his fingers had fastened round her wrist, she had experienced a terrifying new sensation that bore little resemblance to casual acquaintanceship.

“I – er – I came with Doctor Morrison and his wife – from the hospital,” she explained awkwardly. “I expect I’ll go home with them. I can always get a bus back later.” She glanced at her watch as though to confirm this. “After all, it’s only half past four.”

Matthew Lawford inclined his head. “If that’s what you prefer.”

Darrell felt terrible. It wasn’t what she preferred at all, but something, some inner sense warned her that further association with this man would be dangerous for her. She glanced round and saw to her relief that people were coming back again. The bride and groom had left for the bride’s home in Windsor Street to get changed. Pretty soon, the reception would break up and only the family and close friends would gather later on at the house. She felt vaguely relieved when another of Susan’s brothers came to join them.

Jeff Lawford was twenty-two, a year younger than Darrell, and a welder at a local steel works. For the past three months, he had been trying to persuade Darrell to go out with him, and he smiled at her now, flicking a speculative glance towards his older brother.

“Well?” he commented. “It went off very well, didn’t it? In spite of the lousy weather!”

“Susan looked beautiful,” exclaimed Darrell enthusiastically and Jeff gave her an old-fashioned look.

“Susan could never look beautiful!” he asserted with brotherly candour. “But she did look nice.” He surveyed Darrell thoroughly and with evident approval. “Now, if you had been the bride …”

Darrell coloured. “Oh, Jeff!”

“What’s wrong? With that red hair, you’d be a sensation!”

“It’s not red,” she retorted. “It’s darker than that.”

“If you say so.” Jeff grinned, and then slapped Matthew on the shoulder. “Fancy a beer, Matt?”

Matthew flexed his shoulder muscles. “I wouldn’t say no,” he conceded, glancing at Darrell. “Will you excuse us?”

“Of course.”

Darrell managed a smile in return, and then breathed a sigh almost of relief as they moved away. A small, motherly little woman was approaching her, and she turned to greet Susan’s mother with real warmth.

“Oh, Darrell,” said Mrs. Lawford, patting her arm. “I haven’t had a minute to talk to you since this morning. How did it go? Did you enjoy yourself? Did everyone have enough to eat and drink, do you think?”

Darrell relaxed. “Oh, of course they did. The meal was delicious. And everything went off perfectly. Susan looked a dream, didn’t she?”

“Do you think so?” Mrs. Lawford beamed with motherly pride. “I must say, I thought she looked really lovely. She and Frank have gone back to the house to change. I’m hoping they’ll be able to slip away unobserved. You know how it is.”

“That’s what I’m planning to do, too,” remarked Darrell dryly, indicating the hat in her hand. “My hair’s coming loose, and this dress is beginning to annoy me.”

“Oh, but you looked lovely, dear. You have such pretty colouring. And your hair always looks nicer, loose about your shoulders.” She gave an encompassing look around her. “You are coming over this evening, aren’t you? I’m expecting you to. The boys will be there, and Evelyn and Jennifer and their husbands. Matt’s staying over, too. Have you met Matt yet?”

“Oh – y-yes.” Darrell’s fingers tortured the brim of the boater. “I was talking to him a few moments ago.”

“Were you, dear?” Mrs. Lawford wasn’t really listening to her. She clicked her tongue impatiently. “Oh – there’s Celine sitting over there looking as if butter wouldn’t melt in her mouth! Why doesn’t she try to join in the fun? She’s done her best to spoil the day!”

“I expect she feels out of place,” murmured Darrell, unconsciously allaying a little of the guilt she felt about her attraction to Matthew, by defending his wife. “She doesn’t come from Sedgeley, does she?”

“Heavens, no.” Mrs. Lawford made a gesture of negation. “She was Celine Galbraith before she married Matt. Her father’s an important man in the city, and the family own some estate in Wiltshire. Thinks herself too good for the likes of us, she does.”

“Oh, Mrs. Lawford …”

“Don’t you think so?”

Darrell shrugged awkwardly. “It’s not for me to say.”

Mrs. Lawford’s sniff was expressive. “Well, how about you coming over and having a word with her? Perhaps she’ll take to you – you being from the south, like.”

Darrell wanted to demur, but Mrs. Lawford was already moving away and she had, perforce, to follow her. Celine looked up languidly at their approach, her expression mirroring her boredom at the proceedings.

“There now, Celine,” exclaimed Mrs. Lawford comfortably. “I’ve brought someone to see you. This is Darrell Anderson, Susan’s friend from the hospital. They’re nurses together.”

“Isn’t that nice?” Celine drawled sardonically, looking up at Darrell without enthusiasm. Close to, Darrell could see the fine lines of dissipation about Celine’s eyes, and a certain nervous agitation in the way they darted about. “We were introduced earlier, weren’t we?”

Darrell nodded. “Yes. At the house. Before the wedding.”

“Ah, yes.” Celine’s lips curled as her mother-in-law moved away. “You don’t come from around here, do you?”

“No, I’m afraid not. I was born in Essex. In Upminster, actually. Do you know it?”

“Do I not! Civilised country!” Celine uttered a short laugh. “Don’t be afraid to tell anyone, my dear. Who’d want to come from around here anyway?”

“I like it,” defended Darrell at once. “I love the north. It’s so much – cleaner, for one thing.”

“Cleaner! Sedgeley?” Celine shook her head pityingly. “You can’t be serious!”

“I am. You don’t get the diesel fumes up here that you get in and around London. Besides, there’s more room to breathe – to live!”

Celine’s mouth twisted cynically. “I can see they’ve got to you all right.”

“No one’s got to me. I mean it. I really like it here.”

“Well, sit down,” Celine invited, patting the wooden seat beside hers. “At least we can talk about somewhere else, even if you don’t find Sedgeley a pain in the neck.”

“I’m afraid I can’t do that.” Darrell had no desire to prolong this tête-à-tête. “I’m leaving now. I want to go home and change. Mrs. Lawford has invited me over to the house this evening.”

“Oh, lord!” Celine uttered a groan of dismay. “The family get-together! Oh, God, why can’t Matthew take me back to London tonight?”

There was no answer Darrell could make to this and with a faint smile she began to move away. But Celine got to her feet and halted her with: “Where do you live?”

Darrell hesitated. “Susan and I used to share a flat near the hospital. I’m keeping it on until I can find someone else to share.”

“The hospital?” Celine frowned. “Is that near here?”

“No. It’s on the outskirts of Sedgeley. At the other side of town.”

“Is it?” Celine sounded interested. “And do you have your own transport?’

“Well – no,” Darrell answered reluctantly. “I – I came with one of the doctors and his wife.”

“Very well.” Celine brightened. “I’ll take you home.”

“Oh, no.” Darrell flushed uncomfortably. She had somehow known this was coming. “That is – it’s not necessary, Mrs. Lawford.”

“Damn it, I know it’s not.” Celine made an irritated gesture. “I just need an excuse to get away from Matthew’s family for a while, that’s all. You can make me a decent cup of coffee, and then I can bring you back again. How’s that?”

Darrell sighed, looking round helplessly. What could she say? That she had already refused Celine’s husband’s offer to take her home? That she had no desire to spend time with the wife of a man who she felt could quite easily disrupt the peace and tranquillity of her hitherto organised existence?

To her intense relief she saw Matthew Lawford coming towards them, accompanied by his elder sister, Evelyn. Darrell had learned that although Matthew was the eldest of the five sons, he had two older sisters. He moved with indolent grace through the thronging groups of friends and relatives, exchanging a word here and there, laughing at some remark passed to him, and making some equally amusing comment in return, judging from the loud guffaws that followed him. Darrell guessed they were the usual lewd jokes made at weddings everywhere, but Celine was looking distinctly out of humour.

Reaching his wife and Darrell, Matthew glanced at each of them in turn, his brows lifted interrogatively. “Have you two been getting to know one another?”

“We’re just leaving, actually,” returned Celine, before Darrell could say anything. “I’ve offered to run Susan’s friend home. You have no objections to me taking the car, do you?”

Matthew’s eyes probed Darrell’s, and she could feel herself going hot all over. “I – I’ve just been explaining to your wife that Doctor Morrison is taking me home,” she defended herself, and Evelyn smiled.

“There’s no need for you to bother, Celine,” she put in calmly. “Jeff’s been wanting the chance to get Darrell to himself for the past six months. I’m sure he’d jump at the chance of taking her home.”

“But – “ began Darrell, only to be silenced by Celine stalking off and leaving them all wrapped in a moment’s pregnant silence.

Matthew seemed the least affected by the embarrassment that followed. “Well,” he mused, “you appear to have lost that opportunity,” and Evelyn’s lips twitched uncontrollably.

“Oh, Matt!” she exclaimed. Then she looked at Darrell. “Come along, Darrell. If the worst comes to the worst, I can always take you home.”

Darrell was beginning to feel like an unnecessary encumbrance, but she went with Evelyn, mainly because she wanted to avoid being alone with Matthew Lawford. She was sure his eyes followed their progress across the marquee and consequently she stumbled and would have fallen had not a hand reached out and saved her. She looked up gratefully into Elizabeth Morrison’s smiling face.

“So there you are, Darrell,” the doctor’s wife exclaimed. “Adrian’s looking for you. We’re leaving now.”

Evelyn halted and turned. “You are, Mrs. Morrison?” She looked at Darrell. “Well, isn’t that a coincidence?”

Darrell nodded with relief. A coincidence indeed!

The flat was cool, and felt abnormally empty, which was ridiculous because it at least had not changed. Two bedrooms, living room, kitchen and bathroom, it sounded spacious; but as the two girls had learned the two bedrooms were in effect one large bedroom converted into two, the kitchen was an alcove off the living area, and the bathroom was scarcely big enough to turn round in. Still, in spite of the indifferent furnishings provided by the owners, it was home, but without Susan’s irritating clutter it was empty.

Darrell stripped off the long coffee-coloured gown, and examined the hem, determinedly keeping her thoughts on the mundane matters. Apart from several mud stains which would possibly brush off when they were completely dry, it was in reasonable order and she was relieved. Her mother had bought her the dress for her last birthday, and she would have hated to have faced her wrath if the dress had been permanently marked.

Pulling on a housecoat, she went into the tiny kitchen and switched on the kettle. A cup of tea was what she needed after all that wine. A cup of tea and several quiet minutes to compose herself for the evening’s festivities ahead of her. Perhaps she could ring and excuse herself, she thought doubtfully. She could always invent a headache. But the recollection of Celine’s attitude towards the Lawford family made her think again.

Mrs. Lawford would be terribly disappointed if she failed to put in an appearance. Perhaps she would imagine that she, Darrell, felt out of place in such partisan society. Which wouldn’t be true. Darrell had always enjoyed her visit to the Lawford house. They had always made her feel so welcome, encompassing her in the kind of family atmosphere she had never experienced with her own parents.

The kettle boiled and she made the tea, carrying the tray through to the living room and setting it down on a low table beside the couch. As she poured the tea, she reflected that it was hardly surprising that she had never known what it was like to be part of a family. Her parents had divorced when she was seven years old, which at the time had come as a blessed relief after years of listening to her parents quarrelling. Her father had been to blame, or that was her mother’s story and the fact that her father had married again within a year of obtaining the decree had seemed to bear out that theory. Darrell had been too young to judge at that time, and it was only as she had grown older she had begun to appreciate that there were always two sides to every situation. Her father’s second wife was young, younger than her mother had been, and within a few years they had produced two sons who might well have been brothers to Darrell, if her mother had let them. But throughout her childhood, she had jealously guarded her daughter, allowing her to visit her father only rarely, and consequently, by the time Darrell was old enough to judge for herself, her half-brothers had formed their own opinions of her. Delia, her stepmother, had hardened, too, and Darrell did not really feel at home with them. She knew her father regretted this bitterly, but he was naturally more inclined to be loyal to the family he had made.

Darrell’s mother, who had been a designer working for a firm of textile manufacturers at the time of her marriage, had picked up the pieces after the break rather well. She had opened her own interior decorating business, and was now much sought after by her wealthy London clients. Even before her move to Sedgeley, Darrell had grown accustomed to seeing little of her mother, and her own work at the hospital, living in the nurses’ hostel there, had created a gulf which neither of them particularly wished to bridge now.

That was why Darrell had found the Lawfords’ ebullience and generosity so warming and appealing. She had responded to the teasing and bantering and good-natured arguing that went on within the family circle, and she had often wished that she could have had that kind of background instead of being a part of two beings who had each in their own way chosen to live their own lives of which she had no part.

She sighed. Weddings were always a time for sentimentality. She was allowing the emptiness of the flat to get through to her. It was foolish. Sooner or later she would have to find someone else to share the place with her, and that was a prospect she did not relish. She and Susan had got along so well together, and the fact that Susan had been instrumental in finding the flat and suggesting they shared it, had made it more of a mutual arrangement somehow.

Finishing her tea, she got to her feet and walked to the window. It had begun to rain in earnest again, and the sky hung grey and overcast over the houses opposite. Lucky Susan and Frank, off to Majorca. At least it wouldn’t be raining there.

With a grimace, she collected the tray and carried it back into the kitchen. She made herself a sandwich in lieu of an evening meal, and then went to change. She decided to wear a cotton corduroy slack suit and a plain brown shirt. The suit was cream and toned well with her matt complexion. She considered calling a taxi to take her across town because the bus stop was several yards away from the street in which the flat was situated, but it seemed an extravagance, so instead she donned her navy poplin coat and picked up her umbrella.

She ran to the end of the road and fortunately caught a bus almost immediately. Jolting along through Sedgeley town centre, she reflected wryly that had she accepted Celine Lawford’s offer of a lift she would have avoided all this. But at what cost? What on earth would they have talked about?

The bus deposited her in the market place, and from there she had to catch another bus out to Windsor Street. This time she was not so lucky and spent fifteen minutes standing in the bus shelter waiting for the connection.

It was after eight by the time she was walking up Windsor Street to the Lawfords’ house, but she could hear the sounds of merriment before she reached their door. The record player was going full blast, and there was the sound of raised voices and laughter. For a moment she hung back, half deterred at the thought of so many strangers. Although she knew Susan’s immediate family, she did not know all the aunts and uncles, cousins and in-laws that constituted the whole Lawford clan, and she was an outsider, after all.

But then the door opened and Penny Lawford was standing smiling at her, her brother Jeff jostling for a position behind her.

“Come on in, Darrell,” she exclaimed, stepping back on to Jeff’s foot and grimacing at his agonised protest. “We were beginning to wonder whether you were going to make it. Take your coat off. You’re soaked!”

Within minutes, Darrell was engulfed into the family circle, a glass of something strong and warming was pressed into her hand and she was thrust into the lounge which seemed to be overflowing with people.

Jeff limped after her, rubbing his ankle. “I’m glad you came, Darrell,” he said, and she knew he meant it.

“Did Susan and Frank get away without too much fuss?” she asked, trying not to be aware that there was no sign of either Matthew Lawford or his wife.

“Well, Matt’s taken them to Leeds,” Jeff explained, pulling the tab off a can of beer and raising it to his lips. “Mike and I managed to fill Frank’s pyjama legs full of confetti, but that was last night. I don’t think he would open the case to check on them this morning. He had quite a hangover after last night’s little celebration.” He grinned reminiscently.

“Oh, Jeff!” Darrell could well imagine Susan’s consternation if Frank pulled out his pyjamas and emptied their contents all over their bedroom floor in the hotel at Porto Cristo. “What a rotten thing to do!”

Jeff chuckled. “It’s expected. And our Susan was too fly to leave her cases lying around. She locked them up last night, do you know that? Slept with the key of the cupboard under her pillow!”

“Good for Susan!” Darrell sipped her drink and then gasped as the fiery spirit burned the back of her throat. “What is this?”

Jeff put his head on one side. “Well, it’s supposed to be punch – Dad’s style. I believe it’s a mixture of whisky, rum, brandy and vodka.”

“I don’t believe you.”

Jeff shrugged. “Please yourself. Knowing Dad, that’s likely to be a conservative estimate.”

Darrell smiled in answer to a greeting called to her across the room from Mrs. Lawford and took another sip of the fiery mixture. “Ugh!” She shivered. “I can’t drink this. It’s – horrible!”

Jeff raised his eyebrows mockingly. “Don’t let Dad hear you say that.”

“Why not? I’ve noticed that all he drinks is beer – like you.”

“Punch isn’t a man’s tipple.”

“And beer is, I suppose?”

Jeff nodded, finishing the can in his hand. “Come on, let’s dance.”

The Lawfords’ home was a rambling old terrace house which Mr. Lawford and his sons had converted by knocking down walls and putting in central heating. Consequently, the lounge now stretched from the front to the back of the property and was big enough to accommodate the rapidly expanding needs of the family. Tonight, a space had been cleared at the end for dancing, and several couples were already abandoning themselves to the beat music when Darrell allowed Jeff to propel her to join them. She had been glad to dispose of her drink on to a side table and determined not to be duped into drinking any more punch.

It was hot, and after a few minutes Darrell had to stop to take off her jacket and unfasten the top couple of buttons of her blouse. She had left her hair loose this evening, but now she wished she had at least brought an elastic band to lift it off her neck.

“Where’s Celine?” she managed to ask Jeff in one of the intervals between records, and he shrugged, glancing round indifferently.

“I don’t know,” he replied. “She wanted to go with Matt and the others, but there wasn’t room in the car and she wasn’t suited.”

“There wasn’t room in the car …?” Darrell looked confused. “Why? What sort of car was it?”

“Oh, it’s a big B.M.W.,” remarked Jeff enviously. “But all the kids wanted to go. You know. Evelyn’s two and our Jennifer’s Christine. They wanted to go out to the airport, so Matt said they could.”

“I see,” Darrell nodded.

“Anyway, they should have been back by now. They’d have been here already, but the flight was delayed an hour. One of those last-minute hitches. Hey – I made a pun! Did you notice that? A hitch for the hitched!”

He laughed and Penny and her boy-friend and one or two of the others who had been dancing came to see what was so funny. There was a lot of goodnatured chaffing going on and Darrell turned away, raising her arms to tug her fingers through her tangled hair. The effort tautened the material of her shirt across her breasts, although she was unaware of it, but as she stood there straightening her arms into a stretch she became aware of the group of young people just entering the lounge, and over their heads her eyes encountered the dark eyes of Matthew Lawford. There was a disturbing moment when he held her gaze, and then she turned abruptly away, catching Jeff’s arm and saying: “I thought you asked me to dance!”

CHAPTER TWO

The alarm rang insistently, and Darrell groaned and rolled over to switch it off. Seven o’clock! Who would choose to get up at such an unearthly hour? she thought impatiently, sliding out of bed before succumbing once more to the waves of drowsiness that were tugging at her consciousness. She spared a thought for Susan as she dressed, waking on the morning after her wedding night. Darrell decided wryly that whatever she might be doing at this moment, it would not entail swallowing a hasty breakfast and reporting for ward duty at eight a.m.

The hospital was only a ten-minute walk away from the flat, and this morning the sun was forcing its way through the low-hanging clouds as Darrell set off. Now that she was fully awake, she was glad she was going to work. The brisk routine of the hospital would give her little time to dwell on the disturbing aspects of the previous day’s events.

Not that anything particularly momentous had happened, she acknowledged. Her feelings were the result of an over-active imagination and Matthew Lawford had treated her no differently from any one of the other girls present at the reception. But for her there had been something – something in the way he looked at her, in the way he spoke to her, which, whether he intended it or not, and she was sure he didn’t, had disrupted her emotions to a disquieting extent.

She had told herself it was the wine, that she was un-accustomed to alcohol, but in fact she had not drunk a lot. Nevertheless, it had been a shattering experience to realise that in spite of always believing herself capable of controlling any situation, he had disconcerted her without any apparent effort on his part. It was galling. She felt like a schoolgirl with her first crush, and she despised herself for it. The more so because Matthew Lawford was not only way out of her sphere, but married as well. He might be Susan’s brother, he might be able to submerge his personality into his brothers’ mould when it suited him to do so – but basically he was different, and that, no doubt, was why Celine had married him.

Celine!

Darrell could not suppress a shiver when she recalled the scene which had taken place the night before after Matthew’s return from Leeds.

Until then, Celine had not been in evidence, but it had turned out later that she had been lying down upstairs, ostensibly nursing a headache. As soon as her husband returned, however, she came downstairs, still wearing the turquoise crêpe dress she had worn for the wedding, which now looked rather creased.

Darrell had been dancing with Mike Lawford, another of the brothers. Without admitting it to herself, she had been staying with the younger members of the family deliberately, avoiding any possible contact with Matthew. But she had been unable to avoid overhearing the words that had passed between them. Celine had been determined that everyone should hear.

She had begun by complaining that she couldn’t possibly stay in the house a moment longer, her head was throbbing, she said, and the music was driving her mad. To be charitable, Darrell had had to concede that if Celine did indeed have a headache, she might well have been feeling desperate, but it soon became apparent that this was not the only reason why she wanted to leave. As her voice became shriller and her words more slurred, Darrell realised that Celine was more than a little intoxicated.

Matthew had endeavoured to persuade her, mildly at first, that he couldn’t leave yet, that he had only just arrived, and that his parents expected him to stay. His mother, joining them, had even suggested that perhaps Celine might like to go home with Evelyn when she took the younger children to bed, and stay the night there where it would be peaceful.

But Celine wanted none of this. The prospect of spending the night with any of Matthew’s relatives was clearly not a good idea so far as she was concerned, and she demanded that Matthew go and book her a suite of rooms in the best hotel in town.

And this was when the argument had become less tolerant. Matthew had stated flatly that he had no intention of booking rooms in any hotel when his own family were perfectly prepared to accommodate them, and when Celine started to criticise his family he told her bluntly that he would not bring the Lawford name into disrepute in the town by revealing his wife’s imperfections.

It had become a terrible slanging match, with Matthew controlling his temper admirably. Inevitably, Celine had burst into tears and Mrs. Lawford, with her innate kindness, had led her daughter-in-law away and calmed her with coffee and aspirins.

But Celine’s behaviour had put a damper on the party, and when Jeff suggested that he and Darrell and some of the others went on to the nightclub in the town, they had all been eager to agree. Consequently, Darrell had arrived home in the early hours of the morning feeling exhausted and distinctly depressed.

Sunday was not usually a busy day at the Sedgeley General and the morning dragged by until lunchtime when there was an emergency appendectomy in the theatre. Darrell had her lunch with Carol Withers, a fellow staff nurse, in the hospital canteen, and then returned to the surgical ward until the evening. Visitors were allowed for two hours during the afternoon, and as there were no further emergencies, Darrell was able to write up her reports in Sister’s office without interruption. There was a minor upheaval soon after tea when the patient who had had the appendectomy recovered consciousness and was sick all over his bed, but the sheets were soon changed and Darrell spent several minutes assuring the poor man that he had not been the nuisance he imagined. Then it was time to hand over to the night staff, and Darrell collected her cape and handbag and left the building.

It had been an unsettled day, periodically raining and then becoming sunny, but the evening was quite delightful, the sky almost completely rid of the clouds which had caused the showers. She walked down Hollyhurst Road feeling more relaxed than she had done walking up it that morning, and was shocked out of her reverie when a long gunmetal grey car pulled alongside her. She didn’t recognise the car. It belonged to no one she knew, she was sure – an impression which was quickly allayed when Matthew Lawford climbed out.

He was wearing a dark suit in some sort of soft suede, and his tie was very black against his white shirt. The thick brown hair lay smoothly against his head, and his thick lashes hid the expression in his eyes. There were lines beside his mouth which she didn’t think had been there yesterday, and a feathering of anticipation slid along her spine.

“Hello, Darrell,” he greeted her quietly. “I’ve been waiting for you.”

“For me?” Darrell glanced all round her, as though she couldn’t believe he was addressing her, but the road was almost deserted. Then she looked into the car, and it was empty, too. Hot colour ran up her cheeks. “I – I don’t understand.” Or did she? “Why are you waiting for me?”

Matthew swung open the passenger side door. “Get inside,” he directed. “I have to talk to you.”

Darrell didn’t know what to say. All her emotions clamoured for her to do as he asked, but cold logic kept her standing on the pavement. “Whatever it is – whatever it is you have to say to me, can’t – can’t it be said here?” she stammered.

His eyes were narrowed. “What’s the matter, Darrell? Don’t you trust me?” he enquired, his voice acquiring an edge of coldness.

Darrell felt terrible. “It’s not that. Oh – oh, very well.”

With many misgivings, she climbed into the front of the car and he slammed her door before walking round to slide in beside her. He closed his door, but he did not immediately start the engine, and she tensed.

“It’s about Susan – Susan and Frank,” he told her steadily. “I gather you haven’t heard the news today?”

“The news? What news?”

Darrell was hopelessly confused, but something in his tone stirred a ripple of cold premonition inside her.

Matthew sighed. “There’s been a crash, Darrell,” he replied tonelessly. “Late last night. But it was early this morning before we got the news …”

“News?” Darrell stared at him blankly. Then: “You can’t mean – you don’t mean – the plane –”

Matthew looked down at his hand resting lightly on the wheel. “Susan and Frank are dead, Darrell –”

“Oh, no!”

“– they were killed instantly, I think. There were no survivors.”

“Oh, no!” Darrell moved her head disbelievingly from side to side. “It can’t be true. It mustn’t be true!”

“But it is true, Darrell. I assure you.” Matthew drew a steadying breath. “How do you think the family feel? How do you think my mother feels? My father …” He shook his head. “Well, he’s getting good and drunk, but my mother …” He paused. “Will you come?”

Darrell nodded, pressing trembling hands to her cheeks, feeling the prick of tears behind her lids. Matthew looked at her, as though to assure himself that she was all right, and that direct stare was the undoing of her. Unable to prevent herself, she burst into tears, feeling the salty drops wetting her hands as they streamed unheeded down her cheeks. It had all been too much – the tension over the wedding and Celine’s outburst, her own troubled feelings towards Matthew, and now this … Poor Susan! Poor Frank! Not even their wedding night had been spared them …

With an exclamation, Matthew reached for her, pulling her against him, putting his arms around her and pressing her face against his chest. He had unbuttoned his jacket and his shirt was smooth and silky against her cheek. Beneath its softness she could feel the hardness of muscle, smell the shaving lotion he wore, inhale the clean fragrance of his skin. His heart was beating steadily in her ears, and his strength was something she badly needed just at this moment. But alongside this feeling were other feelings, and it was the knowledge of their presence even in these moments of stress which forced her to draw back from him and search blindly for a tissue.

“I’m sorry,” she said. “I’m not normally so emotional. It was just a such a – such a terrible – shock!”

“I know,” Matthew nodded, buttoning his jacket again as he turned to the wheel. His voice was strangely taut as he commented: “It’s better to cry if you can. Releases tension, isn’t that what they say?”

Darrell dried her eyes. “I suppose so. Could we – that is – I’d rather not go – like this.” She indicated her uniform selfconsciously.

Matthew started the engine and swung the powerful car away from the kerb. “Just direct me to where you live,” he answered. “I’ll wait while you change.”

When they reached the flats, Darrell turned to him. “I – will you come in?” she invited awkwardly.

“Would you rather I didn’t?”

Darrell hesitated a moment and then shook her head. “No, please – come in.”

Matthew made a gesture of acquiescence and as she fumbled her way out of the door at her side, he climbed out easily and locked the car.

The cream emulsioned walls of the apartment building had never seemed more drab, the stair treads bare and worn in the centre. Darrell led the way upstairs on unsteady legs, finding her key and inserting it in the lock.

Matthew stood in the centre of the living room looking about him with what she felt sure must be feigned interest. He had never been here while Susan was living in the flat, and now that she was dead … Dead! She still couldn’t believe it.

“I won’t be a minute,” she said, flinging her handbag on to a chair and indicating the couch. “Won’t you sit down? I’m afraid I don’t have anything alcoholic I can offer you, but there’s coffee …”

“Thank you.” Matthew was polite. “But I don’t want anything. Take your time. There’s no hurry.”

Darrell left him sitting on the couch and entered her bedroom. As she took off her uniform she surreptitiously examined her face in the dressing table mirror. She looked pale, much paler than usual, and there were blotches round her eyes where she had been crying. What a mess! What must he think of her? She sighed, shaking her head impatiently. Don’t do getting the wrong ideas about this, she told herself severely. It had been kind of him to come and break the news, but that was all.

She dressed in a plain navy skirt and a cream blouse, brushing her hair out of the severe chignon she wore for working, and securing it behind her ears with two combs. Cold water had removed almost all traces of grief, and a careful use of a moisturising foundation cream erased the rest. She didn’t bother with any other make-up, she seldom wore a lot anyway, and the result was still very pale, but composed.

Matthew rose to his feet as she re-entered the lounge, a dark blue suede coat over her arm. His eyes flickered over her briefly, and then he said: “You’re ready?”

Darrell nodded.

“Have you eaten?”

Darrell frowned. “Why – no. But it doesn’t matter. I’m not feeling much like eating anyway.”

Matthew thrust his hands into his jacket pockets. “You must eat something. As a nurse you should know that.”

Darrell glanced round helplessly. “It’s all right – really.”

Matthew regarded her for another unblinking moment, then he shrugged. “Come along, then.”

It was amazing how quickly one could reach Windsor Street if one did not have to rely on buses, Darrell thought bleakly, trying to put the picture of Susan and Frank’s mangled bodies out of her mind. One could by-pass the town centre completely, taking the direct route on the ring road. There were plenty of cars about on this warm summer evening and it seemed incredible that for most of these people another plane crash would arouse nothing more than an exclamation of sympathy for those involved. But for Susan and Frank …

She pressed her lips tightly together. She must not get emotional, not now. She had been Susan’s friend, but the Lawfords were her family, her flesh and blood. Somehow she had to be strong enough to bear their grief and absorb some of it if she could.

Matthew, who had been silent on the journey, glanced sideways at her as they turned into Windsor Street. “This is going to be pretty harrowing for you, Darrell,” he said quietly. “But thank you for coming. My mother – all of us – appreciate it.”

His words affected her more than her thoughts had done, and she nodded quickly, not trusting herself to speak. When the powerful car drew to a halt at the Lawfords’ gate, she thrust open her door and climbed out before she succumbed to the crazy desire to comfort him as he had comforted her a little while ago.

The next few hours were gruelling ones as Matthew had predicted. The house seemed full of people, and the kettle was constantly boiling to make tea. Relatives from out of town who had attended the wedding the day before and who had been staying overnight before returning home were still there, and there was a lack of organisation that Mrs. Lawford would never have permitted had she not been stricken with her own grief. She gathered herself sufficiently to tell Darrell that the airline was sending all the bodies home for burial, and that Evelyn and her husband had flown out to Palma, at the airline’s expense, to attend to the details on their behalf. Frank’s father had gone too, she said, but Mr. Lawford was in no fit state to go anywhere. Darrell guessed what it must have cost her to tell an outsider this, and respected her for it.

Darrell herself was soon busy in the kitchen, washing dishes and generally making use of herself. There was still a certain amount of disorder left from the night before, and she stacked cakes and pastries into tins and threw out dozens of empty bottles and sandwiches whose edges had curled unappetisingly. Penny, the Lawfords’ youngest daughter, appeared from time to time, her eyes red-rimmed from crying. She was no assistance, but Jennifer, the other married sister, remained by her mother’s side. Darrell understood that at a time like this Mrs. Lawford needed someone to lean on.

Susan’s brothers seemed to have taken over the dining room and were keeping out of the way. The majority of people milling around were aunts and uncles and cousins, and one or two of Frank’s relatives. Laura Vincent, Mrs. Lawford’s sister, came to help Darrell with the washing up and it was she who explained how the news had been broken in the early hours of the morning.

“We hadn’t heard any news, you see,” she said, shaking her head. “Not having the television on, or anything. Frank’s family were getting ready to go home when these policemen came to the door.”

“It must have been terrible,” put in Darrell sympathetically, and Laura nodded.

“It was – terrible! Our Margaret just collapsed, and Jim – well, he – he wouldn’t believe it.”

“I still find it hard to believe,” murmured Darrell, with feeling.

Laura picked up a cup and began polishing it absently with the teacloth. “It was just as well our Matt was here. He was a tower of strength. Pulled his mother round, he did. I don’t know what she’d have done if that toffee-nosed wife of his had had her way and they’d left directly after the wedding. That was what she wanted to do, you know. And causing that scene after tea! Conceited, that’s what she is. Thinks herself too good for the likes of us!”

“Oh, please …” Darrell didn’t want to get involved in a discussion about Celine Lawford. “Er – Evelyn left this morning, then?”

“For Palma, yes. Matt would have gone himself, but our Margaret begged him to stay. The funeral’s likely to be on Thursday. Joint affair, so I believe. Susan and Frank. Susan and Frank!”

Tears appeared at the corners of her eyes and she dabbed them away. But it was difficult to remain immune from the awful tragedy of it all.

Darrell was making fresh sandwiches in an effort to tempt the men to eat something at least when the kitchen door opened and Celine came in. Up until then, Darrell had assumed she must have got her way and been installed in some hotel, but it was obvious from the petulance of her expression that this was not so.

Heaving a heavy sigh, she came and perched on the corner of the table, watching Darrell working with a jaundiced eye. “You must like being here,” she commented, grimacing. “Imagine coming back at a time like this.”

There was no evidence of grief in Celine’s bored expression and Darrell wondered that anyone could remain unmoved by what had occurred. Particularly when that someone was so close to the family. But then Celine would probably tell her that she was not close to the family. She probably hadn’t met Susan above a dozen times. They were virtually strangers to her. All the same, even a stranger might find it difficult not to respond to the pathos of it all.

“I hope someone’s hungry.” Darrell avoided any open confrontation. “I wonder if everyone likes cheese with chutney.”

“I suppose, being a nurse, you’re used to situations like this,” remarked Celine, bringing a pack of cigarettes out of the pocket of her well cut slacks. Although she was small, she was very slender, and the masculine attire accentuated her femininity.

Darrell nodded now. This at least was safer ground. “Yes. Although one never quite learns to accept it.”

Celine lit her cigarette. “Oh, come on,” she exclaimed. “You don’t mean to tell me you feel for every passing corpse that comes your way!”

Darrell didn’t care for her turn of phrase. “Death is always unexpected,” she replied carefully. “I can never quite get over the feeling of loss when two people are in a room together and suddenly one of them –” She broke off. “I’m sorry. That was morbid of me.” She quartered the pile of sandwiches and began arranging them on a plate. “When – when are you leaving? After – the funeral?”

Celine exhaled smoke through her nostrils, looking irritable. “God alone knows, I don’t! Matthew should have left today at the latest. He has a board meeting tomorrow afternoon, and he leaves for New York on Wednesday.”

Darrell turned to rinse her fingers at the sink. “I – I believe the funeral’s not until Thursday,” she murmured.

“I know that. But Matthew’s a busy man, his work is important. He can’t just neglect everything because there’s been a plane crash …”

“It is a family bereavement,” Darrell pointed out quietly.

“Do you think I’m not aware of that, too? My God, it’s been thrust down my throat ever since I came here. Family this – family that. It’s sickening! What has Matthew in common with his family now? He doesn’t live like they do, he doesn’t think like they do, he doesn’t act like they do. His world is not their world. All right, so Susan’s dead, and that’s a pity. But you could count on one hand the number of times he’s seen her in the last five years!”

“Nevertheless, she was his sister, and his mother needs his support –”

“His mother needs his support! What about me? Don’t I need his support, too? My God, what has his mother ever done for him? What has his blessed family ever done for him?”

Darrell dried her hands and found a tray for the sandwiches. “If you’ll excuse me …” she murmured uncomfortably.

Celine slid off the table and paced restlessly about the kitchen. “Oh, yes, go on, go and play nursemaid to all of them. I’m superfluous here. I’m not even allowed a lousy drink to drown my sorrows, do you know that?” She snorted angrily. “Tea – that’s all they can think about. The universal panacea. Well, not for me!”

Darrell determinedly exceed herself and left the kitchen. She knocked at the dining room door and went in. The younger Lawford brothers were playing cards at the table, while Matthew and the next oldest brother Martin were standing together, talking in low tones. Martin was married, too, but his wife, Alison, came from Sedgeley, and as she was eight months pregnant at this time was spending the day with her own parents. They all looked up at Darrell’s entrance, and Jeff made an effort to act naturally.

“That was a kind idea, Darrell,” he said, getting up and taking the tray from her. “What have we here? Cheese? Ham?”

“It’s a mixture. Some are cheese and chutney, some are ham. It was all I could find, I’m afraid.”

“Well, I’m starving,” announced David Lawford, getting up as well and taking one of the sandwiches. He was eighteen and the youngest of the brothers. “Is there any beer? I could do with a drink as well.”

“I know where there’s some lager,” said Jeff, putting the tray on the table.

“I’ll make tea, if you’d rather,” ventured Darrell, but David shook his head.

“I think we’ve had enough tea today,” he replied, with a faint smile. “What about you? Are you going to join us?”

“Oh, no.” Darrell backed towards the door, conscious of Matthew’s eyes upon her. “No, I’ve got plenty to do. I’ll tell your mother you’re having something to eat in here.”

“When you want to leave, let me know.” Matthew spoke for the first time, and Darrell could feel the colour running up her cheeks.

“I can take Darrell home,” interjected Jeff, looking impatiently at his brother.

“I brought her here, so naturally I’ll take her home,” retorted Matthew coolly, and Jeff reached for a sandwich with ill grace.

“I suppose your car is more comfortable than my mini,” he muttered, with his mouth full, and Darrell shifted uncomfortably.

“I can always take the bus – or get a taxi,” she murmured. “Er – if you’ll excuse me …”

To her relief, Celine had gone when she got back to the kitchen, but Mrs. Lawford was there.

“Oh, there you are, Darrell,” she exclaimed. “I was looking for you. Dr. Morrison’s here, and I think he’d like to see you.”

“Dr. Morrison? Would like to see me?” Darrell was confused.

“Yes. He – he came to offer his condolences.” Mrs. Lawford sniffed, and then controlled herself. “Come along, child. Don’t keep him waiting.”

Adrian Morrison was standing in the hall, talking to Mrs. Lawford’s sister, but he looked up with some relief himself when Darrell appeared. Mrs. Lawford beckoned her sister away, and the doctor turned to her understandingly.

“We’ve just had the news,” he said, “and I wanted you to know that if you’d like a few days off, I’m sure it can be arranged.”

“But Doctor Morrison –”

“Look, Darrell, this must have been a terrible shock to you. You may not wholly realise yet exactly how shocked you are. You know as well as I do the effects of delayed reaction. And Mrs. Lawford tells me you’re being a great help to her –”

“I’m only washing a few dishes –”

“Nevertheless, someone has to do it, and she’s glad of your company.”

“What? With all these people …”

“Sometimes friends are of more comfort than relatives, Darrell. You know that. Besides, you and Susan were very close. It’s natural that her mother should see you as a kind of link …” He paused. “Anyway, I’m told that the funeral is to be on Thursday. I suggest you take the next week off, and come back to work a week tomorrow. I’ll speak to Matron.”

“But I couldn’t!”

“Why not?”

“Well, with Susan – I mean – you’re short-staffed, as it is.”

“We’ll manage. We’re not such a small establishment that we can’t compensate for one indispensable staff nurse!”

Darrell wrapped her arms closely about herself. “I didn’t mean that.”

“I know. But don’t worry, we can cope. And if we should run into difficulties, I can always send out an S.O.S., can’t I?”

Darrell managed a smile. “Thank you.”

After he had gone, Mrs. Lawford came to find her. “Well?” she urged. “What did he say?”

Darrell sighed. “He’s given me the week off.”

“Oh, I am glad.” Mrs. Lawford squeezed her shoulder warmly. “I told him you and Susan had been like sisters to one another. He was very understanding.”

Darrell opened her mouth to protest, and then closed it again. She and Susan had been close. Perhaps not as close as sisters, but then sisters were not always close to one another. And they had shared the flat for the past eight months. She would have missed her anyway, but this …

“You’ll stay here, of course,” went on Mrs. Lawford, but at this Darrell shook her head.

“No. No, I’ll stay at the flat. I’d rather. Besides, it’s no use me getting used to having a lot of company. It would make it all the worse when – when I had to go back.”

Mrs. Lawford studied her pale face for several seconds, and then she nodded. “All right, Darrell, I can appreciate that. Now – how about a nice cup of tea?”

Evelyn telephoned from Palma soon after ten, and Mr. Lawford roused himself to come downstairs and listen to the call. Formalities there were taking longer than expected, and Evelyn did not expect to return home until Tuesday at the earliest. Fortunately, the bodies were recognisable, the plane having ploughed into a hillside and killed most people on impact. This made things easier for the authorities, and less harrowing for the relatives, but it was still a gruelling experience and Evelyn could not hide her emotion when she heard her father’s voice. There seemed little doubt, she said, that the crash had been the result of an error on the part of the pilot, coming in too low over the mountains and then failing to gain altitude again when it became apparent that he was descending too fast. There were a number of theories, of course, but this seemed to be the most consistent one.

By the time the call was over, they were all feeling the strain of a renewed awareness of the tragedy that had occurred. For a while its sharpness had been blunted, but now it was as acute as ever. It would take many more than twenty-four hours for them all to accept the finality of it all.

It was after eleven when Darrell washed up the last few dishes, and went to find her jacket. It was hung over the banister in the hall and she was putting it on when Matthew came out of the lounge.

“Are you ready to leave?” he enquired politely.

Darrell heaved a sigh. “Yes. But you don’t have to take me. I mean – I can easily call a cab.”

“Why? My car’s outside. I said I would take you home.”

“I know you did.” Darrell’s fingers tightened round her handbag. “But—”

“Would you rather Jeff took you home?” he asked, that direct stare devastating her.

“I don’t want to trouble anybody.”

“It’s no trouble. I’m quite prepared to take you.”

Mrs. Lawford appeared behind her son. “Leaving now, Darrell, are you? That’s right. You go and get a good night’s sleep. We’ll see you tomorrow. And thank you for all you’ve done.”

Darrell moved awkwardly. “I’ve done nothing,” she protested.

Mrs. Lawford managed a smile. “Don’t you believe it.” She turned to her eldest son. “You’re taking Darrell home, aren’t you, Matt? Drive carefully, won’t you? We don’t want …” She allowed the remainder of the sentence to go unsaid, but her meaning was obvious.

Matthew’s eyes challenged Darrell to contradict his mother, and with a sigh she went to the door of the lounge and called goodnight to the others. Celine was there, sitting moodily on the arm of a chair, staring at the television which was playing away entirely for her benefit. Everyone else was talking. Darrell half hoped she would look up and offer to go with them, but apart from an irritated glance in Darrell’s direction, she made no move. The inevitable cigarette was dangling from her fingers, and she smoked it with swift nervous gestures.

Outside the big B.M.W. looked incongruous in the narrow street. Jeff’s Mini was parked behind it, and Matthew viewed his brother’s vehicle with vague impatience.

“I can get Jeff’s keys if you’ve rather go in the Mini,” he suggested dryly, and Darrell stood by the door of the B.M.W., waiting for him to open it, feeling decidedly put out.

The drive across town was accomplished as silently as they had come, and it seemed no time at all before they were drawing up outside the apartment building. Only then did Darrell feel a sense of contrition at her childish behaviour

“Thank you,” she said, glancing at him reluctantly.

“No sweat.” He shrugged indifferently. Then, as she was about to get out, he added quietly: “You must tell me if I’m interrupting some scene you and Jeff have got going for you. I got the impression, perhaps mistakenly, from Susan, that you were not interested.”

“I’m not – that is –” Darrell broke off awkwardly. “I’m sorry if I was – ungrateful. I’m not, truly. It’s just – well, I’m tired, I suppose, and not very tactful.”

He half turned in his seat towards her, his face shadowed in the light from the street lamps. “Why should you need to be tactful?” he asked softly. “That’s a curious expression to use.”

Darrell sighed. “It was a figure of speech, that’s all. I – oh, goodnight, Mr. Lawford. And thank you again.”

With trembling fingers, she thrust open the door and climbed out, slamming it behind her. Then she ran up the steps into the building, stopping with a thumping heart when she heard footsteps behind her.

“Come on,” he said, taking her arm, “I’ll see you into the flat. I don’t like the idea of you coming home alone at this time of night.”

Darrell had no choice but to agree, although his fingers at her elbow sent little electric currents down her veins into her hand. He released her at her door and she sought the key in the bottom of her bag, inserting it in the lock with unsteady fingers. Once the door was open and the lamps switched on, she turned back to him with feigned nonchalance.

“You see – no intruders!” she remarked lightly.

“Why are you afraid of me, Darrell?” he asked unexpectedly, one hand supporting himself against the open door.

“Af-afraid of you?” Darrell faltered. “I don’t know what you mean.”

Matthew studied her suddenly heated cheeks with resignation. “Yes, you do,” he returned flatly. “You’re as nervous as a wild cat when I’m around. Why? What do you expect me to do to you? What has Susan told you about me that’s given me such a bad reputation?”

Darrell gasped. “I – you’re imagining things, Mr. Lawford.”

“Am I?” Matthew folded his arms. “I wonder.” He smiled, but it was a rather twisted sort of smile. “Did she tell you that I live some kind of amoral life? That I mix with people whose whole object in life is the pursuit of pleasure? Well, maybe she was right. The codes I live by might not go down too well in a place like Sedgeley. But I am not without conscience, Miss Anderson, and contrary to belief, I’ve never been unfaithful to my wife!”

Darrell didn’t know where to look or what to say. She felt totally and completely demoralised, the more so because she had judged him without scruples.

“So …” Matthew turned to go out the door, “I’ll say goodnight. My mother told me you’ve been given the week off, so no doubt we’ll see one another again. Goodbye.”

The door closed behind him and Darrell stood staring at it feeling sick and distraught. And this time, it had nothing to do with Susan and Frank.

CHAPTER THREE

Although she was physically exhausted, Darrell found it impossible to sleep. Eventually, in the early hours of the morning, she got up and took several aspirins, and she must have fallen into a drugged slumber because when she opened her eyes again it was after ten o’clock.

Her head ached as she made herself some coffee and forced a slice of toast down her throat. Depression was gripping her, and she delayed going round to the Lawfords’ until the last possible moment. She chided herself for being a coward, for selfishly thinking of her own feelings at a time like this, and then when she got there she found that Matthew and his wife had left for London that morning and were not expected back until Wednesday afternoon. This should have aroused some relief, but curiously enough it didn’t.

The house seemed strangely quiet. Mr. Lawford was still in bed, and the three sons still living at home had gone out. Jennifer, Penny and their mother were in the kitchen, and were obviously glad of an excuse to make another cup of tea.

Inevitably, the conversation came round to Matthew, and Penny said resentfully: “I never thought he’d go. I never thought he’d let her persuade him!”

“Now, Penny,” said her mother, with a calming gesture, “Matt can’t just stay at home from his job like you can. People depend on him for their livelihood. Why, Celine said he was supposed to be going to America on Wednesday!”

“All he’s interested in is making money, money and more money,” muttered Jenny, hunching her shoulders. “And what’s it all for, that’s what I’d like to know. You won’t benefit from it.”

Mrs. Lawford sighed. “Penny, you know your dad and I don’t want Matt’s money. We’re quite happy as we are. We’ve got everything we need. This house has been good enough for us this far, and no doubt it’ll still be here after we’ve gone.”

“Well, I think you deserve a better house,” retorted Jenny moodily. “He can afford it.”

“Penny, Matt’s paid for Patrick to go through university, and he’s going to do the same for David if he gets the results. And he bought us that beautiful colour television –”

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