LITMIR.BIZ

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than have to do without you permanently.’

      There was no money for any kind of holiday. There would be even less money, now that Jennifer had to give up her evening job, so the Premium Bond seemed like a small miracle. It wasn’t a fortune, but it was enough to buy Lisa and herself some new clothes, and book a cruise in the Mediterranean—this on Dr Chalmers’ advice—and even have some left over for a rainy day.

      Looking back, Lisa realised how grateful she and her mother should have been to the doctor who had practically frogmarched her mother round to the travel agency. He had known the Farrells for many years, and was quite well aware of the sort of pressure Jennifer would have to suffer unless she used her win for her own benefit.

      As it was, there had been outraged glances and muttered remarks about ‘bone selfishness and greed.’ There were repairs needed to the roof of Number Thirty-Seven, and they’d thought that Jennifer might like to help—as it was her roof too.

      But this time Jennifer was not going to allow herself to be bullied. She had booked her cruise and paid for it, and she was going to take it. And when it was over, and she was back with them, things were never the same again. It wasn’t just the fact that she was relaxed and sun-tanned and had put on some weight. There were other, subtler differences—a depth to her smile, and a dreaming look in her eyes when she thought she was unobserved.

      And then Charles Riderwood had arrived at the house, tall, powerfully built, a square bluff face lent distinction by the greying hair at his temples.

      He had smiled down at Lisa. ‘Hello, love.’ There was a faint North-country burr underlying his voice. ‘I’ve got a little girl, a couple of years younger than you.’

      Lisa had smiled back a little uncertainly, but she had recognised the kindness in his eyes, and she also realised that he wanted her to like him, although she didn’t understand why.

      Enlightenment was to come after his Jaguar car had driven away.

      ‘Brazen!’ Enid Farrell had stormed. ‘The very idea, allowing your—fancy man to come here. How dare you!’

      Jennifer had flushed, but her voice had been calm. ‘Before you say any more, Enid, perhaps you ought to know that Charles and I are going to be married.’

      ‘Married?’ Enid’s voice had risen almost to a shriek. ‘A man you met on a cruise? Why, you know nothing about him. He could be married already—up to no good.’

      Jennifer’s face had blossomed into a smile. ‘I know enough,’ she said. ‘He’s a widower. His wife died several years ago. He has a son of twenty-four and a daughter of eight. His work is something to do with electronics, and he lives in Yorkshire. Is there anything else you want to know?’

      Enid Farrell looked outraged. ‘Why is the son so much older?’ she demanded accusingly.

      ‘I don’t know. Perhaps the little girl was an afterthought.’

      Enid’s face had become more grimly disapproving than ever. It was clear she considered that after sixteen years people should be thinking of other things.

      She continued to disapprove right up to the day of the wedding. Apart from Lisa, she and her husband were the only guests from Jennifer’s side. But there were a number of people at the register office who knew Charles Riderwood, and obviously liked him, and they all went on afterwards to the champagne reception he had arranged at the London hotel where he had a suite.

      Someone was waiting for them there, a tall dark young man who rose slowly from one of the sofas and stood waiting, his hands resting lightly on his hips.

      Charles had said on a sharp note of pleasure, ‘Dane, you managed to get here after all!’ He turned to Jennifer. ‘Come and meet your new son. He’s been in America on a postgraduate course or you’d have met him before.’

      Dane Riderwood had said lightly, ‘It all goes to show I should never turn my back for a minute.’ He had stepped forward to shake Jennifer’s hand, and there had been a general laugh, but Lisa, hanging back hesitantly, had known instinctively that this stranger who was her stepbrother wasn’t amused. He was smiling, but his smile never reached his eyes. And when Charles drew Lisa forward, his hand warm and heavy on her shoulder, Dane’s eyes flickered over her with an indifference bordering on hostility. He had turned away almost at once, leaving Lisa thinking, ‘I don’t like him—and he doesn’t like us.’

      She heard her mother say to her new husband, ‘He’s very like you,’ and she wanted very badly to cry out a denial, because surely Jennifer knew—could see that they weren’t a bit alike.

      Oh, they were both tall and very dark, but Dane was a much leaner version of his burly father. His face was thinner too, its lines arrogant where Charles’ were genial. His eyes weren’t blue like his father’s either, but a wintry grey, and his mouth was hard.

      She had been looking forward to seeing Stoniscliffe, the big grey stone house which her stepfather had told her about. She wanted to meet Julie too.

      ‘She’s been lonely for someone to play with,’ Chas had told her. ‘I daresay you’ve been a bit lonely too.’

      But all the excitement, all the anticipation she had been feeling had been dampened by the arrival of this cold hostile stranger. She wasn’t sure she even wanted to go north to Stoniscliffe if he was going to be there.

      She tried to forget about Dane Riderwood and enjoy the reception. People spoke kindly to her, and exclaimed admiringly about her long hair. Chas even gave her a sip of champagne, in spite of her mother’s laughing expostulations.

      She was just beginning to enjoy herself when Aunt Enid came towards them. Jennifer and Lisa were standing on their own for a moment and she had obviously seized her opportunity.

      ‘Well, you’ve certainly done all right for yourself,’ she hissed to Jennifer. ‘Something to do with electronics indeed! You forgot to mention that he owned his own factory. I suppose you’ll be off north with never a backward glance, never a thought for the people who fed you and housed you when you had nothing.’

      Lisa saw her mother go pale, saw all the pretty, happy, excited colour fade from her face. She said in a low voice, ‘Enid, please keep your voice down. I don’t expect you to believe me, but I didn’t know until today. Oh, I knew Chas wasn’t on the breadline, but all this—’ she paused and gave a little painful laugh—‘all this was as big a shock to me as it has been to you.’

      ‘Oh, of course,’ Enid Farrell sneered. ‘We always knew we weren’t good enough for you. Even my poor brother wasn’t that. You always did fancy yourself, with your airs and graces—too good to work or to want. Well, you’ll never have to bother about either again!’

      Lisa flinched. There was real venom in Aunt Enid’s voice. It wasn’t just the habitual carping that she and her mother had silently learned to accept. And she had noticed something else too. Dane Riderwood was standing not too far away and judging by the expression of distaste on his face he had heard the tail end if not all of the sordid little passage.

      She thought resentfully, ‘I wish he hadn’t heard. He doesn’t like us anyway, and now he’ll just think that we’re as horrible as she is.’

      She saw her stepfather coming towards them, beaming, and Aunt Enid moved away then, and not long after that Lisa was relieved to see her and Uncle Clive leaving. All of a sudden she was glad she was going to Stoniscliffe because it meant, she hoped, that she would never see either of them again.

      The reception seemed to go on for ever, and Lisa was tired of the new faces and voices going on endlessly above her head. After a while she wandered into the adjoining bedroom. There was a sofa there too, drawn across the window, and she curled up on it, lulled by the distant noise of traffic and the murmur of talk and laughter in the next room.

      She didn’t know what woke her, but she opened her eyes, blinking drowsily to realise she was no longer alone in the room.

      Somewhere near at hand a man’s

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