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Emma was instantly alert. 'What book?'

'The medical one. I found it in the bookcase.'

'You don't want to dwell on all this,' Emma said cautiously. 'It's too easy to identify with symptoms.'

Irene's voice rose. 'I don't identify. . .I
have
the symptoms. That's just it: people don't understand.' She hastily added, 'Oh, you do; you've been wonderful.' Her eyes clouded. 'Only just sometimes recently I've felt that you weren't so sympathetic, and Adam is trying to make me do things that I simply can't
do.'

'Adam,' Emma said, illogically defensive, 'wants to cure you.' She added with understanding, 'To get you back into '

Irene cried out, 'I don't want to be told that. I can't make. . . I can be calm and peaceful. . .' She puckered her brows and looked forlorn. 'Are you getting tired of me, Emma?' Her voice broke. 'Is that it?' She hurried on, 'Oh,
please. . .'

She put out her hands in mute appeal and Emma grasped them, insisting, 'Of course I'm not getting tired of you. . .I only want you to get better.'

Irene murmured in a low, almost terrified tone, 'And if I—I shouldn't
get
better? You—you wouldn't send me away—put me somewhere?' Great sobs shook her, calm vanishing as terror took its place and she flung herself into Emma's arms.

Emma held her with compassion, and it was almost as though she were fighting Adam as she vowed, 'Never—
never.
Don't think like that. I'm
here. . .'
Emotion tore at her.

Irene, shaking, looked so pitiful as she drew back, the tears running down her face as she groaned, 'Why did Daddy and Mummy have to die. . .? Why
them?'
I miss them so.' A strange expression crossed her face and her mood swung to fear, as she said disjointedly and with a touch of aggression, 'Why should Ruth ask you on a Saturday?'

Emma replied patiently, 'Adam is probably available, to say nothing of Mr Knight.' She explained, realising that she had not mentioned his name to Irene when telling her that she had accepted Ruth's invitation, 'He is Ruth's friend and would-be husband, apparently.'

Irene looked stubborn. 'Don't let's talk about it. I don't want to hear.'

Just then Emma was conscious of desperation and she could not escape the word 'trapped' as being applicable to herself, no matter how unselfish and devoted she might be. Anger followed in the wake of the thought. It was Adam who had held up the mirror which reflected her life. And, she knew with devastating certainty, Adam also who had brought her
to
life until she ached with desire for him as she stood there, bleak, hopeless.

Emma found that Saturday became an occasion. It wasn't only the fact of going out, but of going to the house in which Adam lived. When it came to it she knew nothing of his life, or everyday preferences, their conversations having centred around Irene and Judy Meyhew. Her body heated as she thought of her previous reactions and the jealousy she had sought to deny. She found herself wondering if there was any other intimate friend in his life, and recalled his emphatic words about not being engaged, or likely to be.

She dressed simply, in a cream skirt and Chinese-type top which fell above her knees and had a blue and gold pattern embossed on the material.

Irene remarked, 'You look lovely. Not dressed up, but smart. You've a lovely figure, Emma.'

'So have you,' Emma returned sincerely.

Irene sighed. 'It doesn't matter. I dress because I have to. There's nothing to dress for.'

Emma felt the breath of guilt because she was going out, but stifled it. Again it seemed that Adam was listening.

Marion came in brightly and said that there was a good programme on television and would like to see if Irene agreed—the suggestion as much to comfort Emma that Irene's evening need not be dull as to stimulate Irene herself.

'The Joanna Lumley one,' Irene said, much to Emma's delight. 'I noticed that.' She put on a bright face as Emma picked up her handbag and car keys, then a look of anxiety shadowed her face.

'You won't be late.'

Marion put in, 'Don't forget I'm staying the night. Time isn't important.'

'I like to hear the car,' Irene said. 'I always listen.'

Emma took a deep breath and stifled a sigh. She said deliberately, 'I shan't be late.'

Irene kissed her as though she were leaving for New Zealand.

Marion walked with Emma to the door.

'Enjoy yourself,' she said brightly.

Emma put a hand out and grasped Marion's wrist.

'Bless you,' she said warmly and thankfully. Marion was a lifeline.

Adam and Ruth's house in King's Road, overlooking the Long Walk leading to the castle, had a gracious welcoming air as Adam opened the door to Emma and drew her into the entrance hall—in itself a small sitting-room—furnished with a few collected antiques by way of a mahogany chest and oval table, adorned by a bowl of heavy silver filled with roses. Parquet flooring was partly covered by two Persian rugs. The staircase wound its way up to a visible landing from which one could peer down on the pleasant scene. The thought flashed through Emma's mind that if Adam and Ruth owned the house jointly, what would he do should she marry? She dismissed the idea immediately and said, 'This is charming.'

He might have read her thoughts.

'We own the house jointly, but in the event of one of us marrying, the other would automatically move out and sell their share.' He was holding Emma's gaze as he spoke—a direct, unnerving gaze. 'It looks to me as if I shall be on the move before I '

Ruth appeared at that moment, greeting Emma warmly and asking jocularly, 'What's all that about being on the move? I couldn't help overhearing.'

Adam told her.

She laughed, then said, 'You'll probably find some glamorous patient, fall in love at first sight, and I shall be the one on the move!' She added, 'Men are so unpredictable.'

At that Adam scoffed, '
Men
unpredictable. I like that! Professor Higgins in
My Fair Lady
had something to say about women, I seem to remember!'

In that moment both he and Emma recalled their last conversation concerning Judy Meyhew and his subsequent remarks, and he added almost defiantly, 'There's a lot to be said for being a bachelor.'

Ruth stopped herself from exclaiming, 'But not for being a spinster!' Laughing, she drew Emma towards the sitting-room—a spacious room of comfort and chintz, looking just the right setting for a drawing-room comedy. It had French windows leading out on to a small but artistic garden which had an air of being tended and loved.

Emma felt instantly at home. Adam's presence brought emotion near the surface and she was acutely conscious of him, aware that in his home environment he was relaxed and even more attractive, with an easy manner which added to his appeal. The thought of her love for him overwhelmed her as their eyes met and held for a second, and she was afraid of betraying her feelings, thankful that just then Paul Knight arrived and the tension eased.

Emma liked him on sight. He was broad-shouldered and slim, with an open friendly face and a mouth that curved readily into a smile. His eyes were frank and blue, and his whole personality redolent of good-natured understanding. He was, Emma thought, a man on whose shoulder one could cry without embarrassment.

Ruth introduced him and his handshake was firm, his manner making Emma feel very much part of the circle. How strange, she thought: he was in love with Ruth and she with Adam; they had a common bond. Her body heated. Ruth
knew
how Paul felt; Adam had no idea of
her
feelings. The possibility appalled her. And yet, were he to love her. . . She dragged her unruly reflections away from him as she talked animatedly to Ruth and discovered that to be out, having a drink before dinner, was a stimulus long denied her. It was the first such occasion since her parents' death. The easy familiarity of Christian names, the happy atmosphere and harmony, brought a sudden lump to her throat. If only Irene could join in. Ruth, with her gaiety and ease of manner, would be such a tonic and Emma felt that she had known her for years.

Paul said, as they sat having their drinks, his manner humorous and challenging, 'I don't suppose you can work miracles by any chance, Emma?' And while he spoke to Emma he looked at Ruth, and Emma followed his gaze.

Emma avoided bringing the subject back to Irene.

'Afraid I have no such ability!' She laughed. 'Do you need miracles?' She thought that it was a silly question, but the atmosphere was such that it was easy to be completely natural and not have to think of anything clever to say.

'If you could persuade Ruth to marry me,' he suggested, and there was almost a boyish eagerness about him as he spoke. 'Everyone knows about me,' he added with a light laugh. 'Adam will give me a reference.'

'Against my better judgement,' Adam quipped, 'since such an event would render me homeless!'

Emma felt a sudden shiver down her spine. She looked at Ruth and said with mock seriousness, 'I've only met Paul for about three-quarters of an hour, but I think you'd be very happy if you married him.'

There was an electric silence when glances were exchanged, and then Ruth's voice rang out, 'You know, Emma, I think you're right—it needed a comparative stranger to make me realise it!'

Paul sat speechless for a second before gasping, 'Say that again!' He put his drink down on the occasional table and turned to Ruth as he sat beside her on the sofa.

'I'll do better than that,' she whispered, and naturally, oblivious of Adam and Emma, kissed him on the lips.

Adam got to his feet and Emma to hers; they went swiftly through the French windows into the warm summer evening.

Emma was trembling. Adam's nearness as he walked beside her was sweet torment.

'Your words obviously had the right effect,' he said, smiling. 'I had begun to despair of her ever giving up her freedom, although I've always felt that she cared more for Paul than she realised.'

Emma thought that it was strange to be talking to Adam without argument or dissension, and the peace between them constituted a danger which emphasised her feelings for him.

'You're obviously pleased,' she suggested.

He looked down at her and for a second her gaze was lost in his, her heart quickening its beat, the awareness of her love for him seeming almost tangible.

'Delighted. Ruth was not intended to live a celibate life,' he said with unexpected directness. 'I should have hated it had one failed marriage soured her. She's such a vital person, and Paul's a fine chap.'

'I should imagine they have a lot in common.' Emma was fighting against her emotions, all the warring elements rising to defeat the longing within her. She said, 'It will change your life.' It was a bald statement and she doubted its discretion because it introduced a personal note.

'I shall adjust according to their plans. If Ruth decides to move in with Paul ' he smiled and made a little expressive gesture '—I'm absolutely free and can adapt.' His voice deepened as though he were stressing the fact to himself. 'Being a bachelor has many advantages.' He added, looking deeply into Emma's eyes, 'Even though you seem determined to marry me off.' He gave a little laugh. 'For once we're not on the edge of dissension, Emma. It's quite stimulating.' He went on, his brows puckering, 'You seem different this evening. . .has anything happened to change your attitude towards me?'

She tensed, and as they sat down on a rustic seat under a shady chestnut she forced a laugh and cried, 'You must be imagining things.'

'Then perhaps it's a lull before the storm,' he suggested. It occurred to him suddenly and forcefully that he knew the answer to his own question: Irene was not in the picture, therefore the object of their dissension was missing. It startled him somewhat to realise the enormous influence Irene exerted. He was conscious of Emma as she sat there in a mood of contemplation instead of anger, and disturbed by her presence. It was a night to make love, and he felt passion rise within him until desire made him say abruptly, 'I think we've given them long enough.'

Emma, disappointed, got to her feet immediately. They stood close together, shoulders touching, and it was as though an electric shock passed over her body. She drew away swiftly, her love for him overwhelming, dangerous and passionate. It struck her that he looked almost stern as he began to walk back to the house, silent, inscrutable.

Actually, Adam was thinking how beautiful Emma looked in the soft evening light, and found himself wondering if there had ever been any particular man in her life. It seemed absurd that she should be living as she was now, virtually cut off from social contacts—just a carer in every sense of the word. He felt impatient with himself because, professionally, he had failed to make any progress with Irene and realised the resistance he faced in that direction. Emma seemed a different person out of the York Road house, and he had an overwhelming desire to know her better. Thus far they had only skimmed the surface of a relationship which had been stormy and challenging.

He said, as they reached the French windows, 'It's good to have you here, Emma.'

She heard his words with a sensation of satisfaction and the sound of her name on his lips always held a strange significance.

'It's good to be here,' she murmured, her love for him an ache within her, that was yet touched with the magic of a new emotion she knew she could not fight, but only conceal.

Dinner became a celebration, with laughter and happiness giving it magic. Conversation sparkled; Paul and Ruth became two lovers bewitched by their own happiness which was infectious, and Adam offered a toast that escaped banality, causing Ruth to say spontaneously, 'Did I ever tell you that you are the very nicest brother one could have? Never stop being my
friend
as well, will you?' She looked at Adam with deep affection and then, to cover up the emotion that touched them all, added, 'I'm giving you a brother-in-law. How about giving me a sister-in-law?'