LITMIR.BIZ

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have a major accident with these? They’re far too big for me!’

      ‘They’re not for climbing,’ he retorted, turning up the collar of his jacket. ‘Going up it’s quite easy, but coming down on loose shale can overbalance you. It’s easier if you squat on your hands.’

      Joanna hunched her shoulders. ‘If you say so,’ she submitted, and with a faint arching of his brows he strode away.

      They climbed a rocky incline and started up a steeper slope of scree, where tiny springs provided natural irrigation for the gorse and heather that grew on the lower slopes. A few stray sheep voiced their objections as they trotted out of their path, and a hawk hanging in the air some way above them seemed to be speculating on their possible destination.

      Joanna was panting before they had climbed a hundred feet. Shopping expeditions in Oxford Street and disco dancing until the early hours were poor substitutes for real exercise, and she was glad Jake was ahead of her and therefore could not hear her laboured breathing.

      About halfway up the slope, another outcrop hid the roof of a wooden hut, and Jake glanced round to see if she was with him before vaulting over the projecting face. The mist was still lingering above them, veiling the upper slopes like a shroud, and it was not difficult to imagine how easy it would be to miss their way in its blanketing folds. Struggling up behind Jake, Joanna was selfconsciously aware of her red face and trembling knees, and she guessed he was not deceived by her attempt at composure.

      ‘This is it,’ he said, and she glanced round automatically, alarmed to see how small the Range Rover looked from their superior height.

      ‘Is—is she there?’ she asked, striving to regain her breath, and he shrugged his broad shoulders before swinging down the narrow gully.

      Joanna heard the dog barking as Jake approached, and presently a small figure appeared from behind the hut. Her own relief was tempered by the realisation that she was about to be properly introduced to her charge, but Jake had evidently no such misgivings. He swung the child up into his arms as the dog appeared to leap excitedly about them, and then after a brief conversation which Joanna could not hear, he turned with the child still in his arms, to climb the track back to where she was waiting.

      Joanna felt an unbearable sense of disquiet as they approached. She half wished she had not succumbed to the anxiety in her employer’s face and had waited back at the house, but it was too late now to have such thoughts. Instead she endeavoured to adopt an expression that was neither severe nor ingratiating, and squashed the unworthy suspicion that in Jakes’s shoes she would have shown a little more anger and a little less understanding.

      He set the child on her feet beside Joanna, and she looked down at her somewhat unwillingly. She could not forget their previous exchanges, in the copse and in the hall at Ravengarth, and she was quite prepared to meet aggression with aggression. But Anya’s expression was almost angelically mild, and encountering wide blue eyes, innocent of all malice, Joanna wondered if she could have mistaken the child’s character entirely. But how was that possible? She had been greeted with a shotgun, and no matter how obedient Anya appeared now somewhere behind that disarming gaze lurked another, less agreeable, personality.

      ‘Anya wants to apologise, don’t you?’ prompted Jake now, pushing his hands into his jacket pockets, and the girl, if she really was of the feminine gender, nodded.

      She was smaller than Joanna remembered, or perhaps in retrospect she had just appeared taller, and her night in the shepherd’s hut had not improved her grubby appearance. The cap she had been wearing the previous afternoon was still pulled down about her ears, making the ends of her dark hair stick out almost comically at the sides. She wore an old anorak, with leather patches at the elbows, jeans, and an old woollen sweater, with cuffs that hung down over her wrists. Wellington boots completed her outfit and Joanna found it amazing that a girl of her age should care so little about how she looked.

      ‘I’m sorry, Miss Seton.’ Anya was speaking now, and Joanna was amazed at the attractiveness of her voice after the coarse language she had used the day before. ‘It was silly, running off like that. It didn’t solve anything.’

      Joanna digested these words rather doubtfully. There was something wrong here. She didn’t know why she felt so sure, but she did. Last night Anya had been slapped and put to bed after behaving quite appallingly. She had sobbed and screamed, and shown every indication of anger and resentment, even to the extent of actually running away. Now she was apologising, saying she was sorry, that she had been silly, that it hadn’t solved anything. Solve was a curious word to use. Finding any kind of solution in the circumstances had an ominous ring to it, and Joanna looked rather blankly at her employer, wondering if he had detected anything unusual about his daughter’s behaviour. But he apparently had not. He was obviously waiting for her to make the next move, and with a grimace she said:

      ‘You didn’t expect me to leave, did you, Anya? I’m not that easily deterred. Your father and I only want what’s best for you, and I’m sure you’re not going to disappoint us.’

      Joanna didn’t quite know why she used that particular approach, or indeed why she should attempt to antagonise the child with her first words. She was aware that Jake was looking at her in some irritation, and evidently he would have preferred a more conciliatory tone, but Joanna had already sensed that with Anya, one had to stay one jump ahead. Even so, she felt a certain ripple of apprehension slide along her spine as she glimpsed the sudden anger that filled the child’s eyes, and guessed that her deliberate linking of herself and Anya’s father had aroused that instinctive response. So she was right, she thought, without any of the exhilaration she should have been feeling. Anya was only bluffing, but what kind of an advantage did that give her?

      ‘I think Anya is beginning to realise that these stupid, childish pranks are just a waste of time,’ Jake pronounced heavily, his breath vaporising in the chilly air. ‘She’s growing up. She has to learn to take responsibility for her actions. And now I suggest we go back to the car. Anya needs some hot food and a change of clothes, and then perhaps we can start behaving like civilised people.’

      Joanna was glad of the leather gloves going down the hillside again. She was not used to the steepness of the slope, and she soon learned the advantages of squatting down on her heels and controlling her slide with her hands. Anya, of course, had no such fears. She and the dog, Binzer, bounded down the loose shale with complete confidence, and even Jake kept his balance without apparent effort. It was a little annoying for Joanna to have to complete her descent under Anya’s intent appraisal, but she managed to get to her feet near the bottom and meet the girl’s gaze with bland enquiry, hoping the trembling uncertainty of her knees could not be detected.

      There was no argument about who should sit where in the Range Rover. Jake ordered Anya and the dog into the back, and Joanna got into the seat beside him with some relief. It had been quite an exhausting trip, one way and another, and she slumped rather wearily against the upholstery as he started the engine. The journey back to Ravengarth was completed almost in silence, but Joanna was aware all the way of the physical presence of Anya’s knees digging into her back, and the not-so-physical awareness of her resentful gaze boring into the back of her head.

      As they neared the house, however, Joanna remembered she was still wearing the gloves he had given her, and tugging them off her now sweating palms she dropped them on to the shelf in front of her.

      ‘Thank you,’ she murmured, glancing sideways at her employer, and a vaguely amused quirk tilted his eyebrow.

      ‘I saw you made use of them,’ he said, with a wry grimace. ‘You’re no fell-runner, I think.’

      ‘I’m not the outdoor type,’ retorted Joanna shortly, forgetting for a moment that they had an audience, and the amusement deepened in his eyes.

      ‘That’s the truth,’ he confirmed, turning off the lane on to the track for Ravengarth, and she was dismayed to find she wanted to laugh. It had been such a curious morning, and it wasn’t half over yet, and she could picture her friends’ reaction if she confessed to them that she had been climbing grubby hillsides before nine o’clock and sliding

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