LITMIR.BIZ

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Australia. Simon lived here until a couple of years ago. He’s in London now.’

      Elinor had known that Simon had left because the last nurse who’d held this job had given her a rough briefing. It was a relief to know that she needn’t fear meeting him.

      How bitter his face had been at their parting. How terrible were the names he’d called her. It wasn’t his fault. Jason had forced the situation on them. But Simon had believed the worst of her so easily. How could he?

      She pulled herself together and asked some bright, meaningless question. Hilda answered it and the moment passed.

      ‘But with any luck there’ll soon be a family again,’ she chattered on. ‘We’re all looking forward to the day Jason brings his bride home. Just as soon as he’s well, he’ll marry Miss Virginia.’

      ‘Not Virginia Cavenham?’ Elinor said before she could think.

      ‘Yes? Do you know her?’

      ‘No, but I’ve heard the name Cavenham.’ The Cavenhams were a notable local family. Elinor hadn’t met Virginia, but she’d heard her called the pride of the crop. Simon had spoken of her as a future bride for Jason even then. She was ‘suitable’.

      ‘The families have been friends for years and we always knew Jason would probably marry one of the two girls,’ Hilda said now.

      ‘Suppose he hadn’t wanted to?’ Elinor asked curiously.

      ‘Then he could have had Jean Hebden, or one of the Ainsworths,’ said Hilda, naming local wealthy, land owning families.

      ‘But suppose he wants to look beyond the Cavenhams, the Hebdens or the Ainsworths?’

      ‘Land marries land,’ Hilda said firmly. ‘Or money. That’s how great old families survive for centuries.’

      When Hilda had gone Elinor looked about her, struck by how easily her meagre possessions fitted into the cramped space. There were a few clothes, a change of uniform, something for ‘best’, some sweaters, a couple of pairs of jeans. Her underwear was white and functional without a flower or a piece of lace to be seen.

      Her make-up told the same story: enough to wear when necessary. Nothing elaborate. Her books barely filled the shelf: a few detective stories for lighter moments, but mostly medical works. She liked to keep abreast of the latest advances.

      Of course she could explain this austerity. She travelled light. She’d never been fond of accumulating possessions. There were always plenty of reasons.

      But in her heart she knew it wasn’t much to sum up a life. A withered life. A withered heart. She resisted the thought, but she couldn’t entirely deny it.

      The mirror inside the wardrobe door showed her a neat, efficient young woman, her face unadorned, with a hint of tension about the mouth. The beginnings of frown lines between the eyes told of long nights of study, days filled with work, years without a holiday, without feelings, without anything.

      Yet her skin still had the peachy bloom of youth. Her features were regular, her mouth wide and shapely, with something that might have been sensuality still lurking in the corners. If her face had been animated it would have been beautiful. If her large blue eyes had glowed with love or laughter she would have been irresistible.

      But love and laughter had died long ago.

      The memories came in swift, dazzling pictures now, and she was forcing herself, like a rider ramming an unwilling horse at a jump. With every step the horse tried to retreat, knowing that what lay ahead was misery and horror. But the rider drove it on.

      The dinner party in her honour. Simon crowing that Jason had given in, silencing her instinctive knowledge that Jason would never give in. Puzzled. Fearful. Wondering what Jason was planning.

      On the day of the party, a team of caterers arrived and started preparing the dining room, carrying in baskets of food and wine. In the midst of the bustle the two brothers withdrew to Jason’s study and had a furious row from which each emerged set-faced and grim.

      ‘It’s nothing, darling,’ Simon said when she asked. ‘Just Jason throwing his weight around. Forget him. Go and make yourself look beautiful for tonight.’

      But there was something preoccupied about his manner that worried her. Several times that day she caught him looking at her in a thoughtful way.

      The twenty guests all smiled and greeted her with interest but with little half glances at Jason, as if curious as to what he was thinking. She, too, wondered what there was behind his smile. In the midst of festivity she felt her apprehension growing.

      After dinner someone sat down at the piano and there was an impromptu dance. She danced with Simon, to applause.

      Then Jason stepped forward and held out his arms, inviting her. Only it was more command than invitation.

      She was surprised at how skilfully he danced. It would have been a pleasure to partner him if she hadn’t been so much on edge.

      ‘Smile,’ he said. ‘This is your night of triumph.’

      ‘I don’t feel triumphant,’ she assured him gravely. ‘Only happy. I really do love Simon. If only you could believe that.’

      Unexpectedly he said, ‘I find it all too easy to believe. I only wish I didn’t.’

      ‘Then if you believe me—’

      ‘Has it ever occurred to you that Simon isn’t the man you think him?’

      Enlightenment dawned, and a smile broke over her face. She felt filled with sudden light.

      ‘What is it?’ he demanded sharply. ‘Why do you look like that?’

      ‘Because now I understand what’s really bothering you?’

      ‘Really!’ he said ironically. ‘Then it’s time we had a talk.’

      He steered her towards an open door, and led her into the library.

      The pictures flickered as Elinor flinched back from what came next. She didn’t want to remember. Leave it there. Surely there was no need to relive the pain?

      But some perverse imp of memory forced her to look again, and watch herself go into the library with Jason. She saw not only their two figures, but her own foolish confidence that at last she’d got the better of this ruthless man. She wanted to reach out and snatch that silly little innocent away from the danger she was heading into so blithely. But nothing could do that now.

      In the library they faced each other.

      ‘So tell me about this wonderful insight that’s come to you,’ he said ironically.

      ‘I’ve just realised—you know Simon’s dark side, don’t you?’

      He was startled. ‘So you do recognise that he has a dark side?’

      ‘Of course. Everyone has.’ A growing confidence made her add, ‘You certainly have.’

      Instead of being offended he gave his wolfish grin, and said, ‘Go on. I can’t wait for the next bit.’

      ‘All right, I don’t know his dark side. But then, he doesn’t know mine.’

      ‘Your what?’

      ‘Oh, I do have one,’ she said, laughing. ‘I’m terribly grumpy in the mornings. I can’t imagine Simon ever being grumpy, but I’m prepared to find that I’m wrong. When you really love somebody, you love everything about them—even their faults, because those faults are part of them.’

      And so she went blundering on, reciting the confident words, playing into his hands, watching the derision on his face, not understanding it.

      As well as scornful, he was furiously angry. ‘You think you know it all!’

      ‘I know about love, Jason. I love Simon and he loves me, and nothing will ever part us. We’ll

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