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When she arrived in the kitchen, it was to find Jerome Manfred already there, washed, shaved and impeccably groomed. The kitchen table was also laid for breakfast, and her look of astonishment was noted.

‘An electric shaver which plugs into the car battery,’ he explained. ‘It wasn’t worth relighting the fire,’ he gestured at the empty grate. ‘We must leave as soon as possible. Whichever way we go, we have to take the Exeter bypass, and that means we lose time.’

Kate nodded as she lit the second ring of the cooker to heat the milk for Philip’s cereal.

‘We’ve not much packing, I didn’t bring a lot,’ she muttered as she pushed past him to remove the kettle which had started to whistle. Silently, she prayed that Philip would be good, would eat his cereal properly and not feed it in sloppy spoonsful to the puppy. The puppy! She turned back to Jerome Manfred, who stood making the kitchen look very crowded. ‘Philip’s puppy—I bought it for him. It’s from a very good strain. I can’t leave it here, there won’t be anybody to feed it. It would starve.’

He raised an eyebrow. ‘Bring it,’ and he turned a dark grey, impersonal gaze on her; taking in her tweed skirt, woollen jumper, thickish stockings and sturdy, sensible shoes. It made her feel uncomfortable and she turned to the tiny fridge, speaking quickly.

‘There’s some bacon and eggs—would you like them? Because if you don’t want them, they’ll have to be thrown away, wasted, and I hate waste. I only have toast and Philip’s not up to bacon yet, he’ll have a boiled egg after his cereal.’ Her voice came muffled from the fridge and when she straightened, her face was flushed from stooping.

‘Go for a walk.’ Philip spoke thickly through a mouthful of cereal. ‘Go for a walk with my dog.’

Kate opened her mouth to answer, but found she was forestalled. Jerome was definite.

‘No! Today we go for a drive in the car. Tomorrow you may take your dog for a walk.’ Kate expected tears, but they were not forthcoming. Philip smiled his sweet, fat smile.

‘O.K.,’ he agreed angelically, and then, in case that should not be enough, ‘Thank you.’

‘And there’s my car,’ Kate muttered as she set Jerome’s breakfast before him.

‘The old Morris 1000,’ he dismissed it with a careless wave of his hand. ‘Leave it.’

‘I’ll do no such thing!’ She was indignant. ‘It’s been a lovely old car, I’ve never had a moment’s trouble with it and it took me nearly two years to pay for it. I’m not abandoning it like that.’

‘You should have had a bank loan,’ he pointed out. ‘The interest charges wouldn’t have been so high and you would have paid for it more quickly.’

‘Mr Manfred,’ her voice was icy, ‘at the time when I bought that car, I was a very new, very naive teacher, but I’d learned one thing about banks. The only time they’re willing to give you a loan is when you can prove you don’t need it, and I couldn’t do that! I want my car.’

‘Give me the keys when we get to London and I’ll have it collected for you.’ He spoke with his weary insolence as if he was becoming tired of humouring a particularly fractious child. Kate compressed her lips and turned her mind to other fractious thoughts.

‘This cottage,’ she looked around. ‘I don’t like leaving it like this. It will all have to be cleaned.’ She wrinkled her nose in distaste at the blobs of cereal which Philip had been dropping for his puppy. ‘Helen let it to me as a favour and it would be the height of ingratitude if I left ft looking like a mess. Surely we could go tomorrow—there’s no real reason why we have to go today, is there?’

‘Yes, there is.’ He was curt and frowning. ‘Forget about the cottage,’ he advised.

Kate shook her head in a determined fashion. ‘Not good enough! Helen loves this place, she used to come here for holidays when she was a child, and besides, she could probably let it again straight away as soon as she knows I’m gone. It would have to be clean and habitable for that. You did say that her last exhibition wasn’t a great success, didn’t you? She’ll need the money.’ Her mouth firmed as she thought of unswept floors and the usual chaos left after a hurried departure. ‘I’m not going to leave it looking as if a bomb’s hit it,’ she finished pugnaciously.

Jerome looked at her carefully. ‘I appreciate your sense of loyalty, but it seems to get you into trouble more often than not, or haven’t you noticed? Your misguided efforts at obtaining a large sum of money to help your sister should have been an example to you. If it was an example, you haven’t learned by it. You didn’t help matters then, did you? Within a year, things were back in the position they’d been in before you allowed yourself to be photographed for that girlie calendar. In fact, the only thing you really achieved was the possibility of destroying your own reputation. Happily, I was able to prevent that, but if you hadn’t interfered, I couldn’t have come threatening you, could I?’

Kate flushed. What he had said was quite true, although she found it difficult to admit, even to herself. But at the time, Shirley had been grateful. Yes, she was sure that Shirley had been grateful.

‘That was my own fault.’ She kept her eyes resolutely on the plate she was washing. ‘We needed so much more money than I’d calculated and we were beginning to feel cramped; Shirley and I and the baby all in my little place. I thought, if we had a bigger flat....’

‘You thought Shirley would complain less?’

‘No, not that at all.’

‘Don’t try to tell me that she didn’t complain.’ Jerome sounded disbelieving.

‘Of course she complained!’ She swung round, the dripping dish mop raised to emphasise her point. ‘I couldn’t expect her not to complain, could I? Theo had shown her an altogether different kind of life. She’d become used to luxury, to never having to think about trifles like phone bills, electricity bills and the rest of the cost of living. She’d grown used to lovely clothes and being able to buy anything which took her fancy and she’d become used to space, and in my little flat there wasn’t enough room to swing a cat. Besides, there was the baby. I didn’t blame her at all, if that’s what you’re thinking. It was different for me, I was out nearly all day, but Shirley was cooped up in my tiny place with a baby to look after and nobody to talk to. It was driving her mad! But we’ve strayed off the point, haven’t we? The point I was making is this cottage—I will not leave it in a mess!’

‘We will leave it in precisely one hour.’ He glanced at his watch. ‘We’re going to London today, whether this house conforms to your domestic standards or not. To be even more precise, I’m taking Philip today. If you prefer to stay here, scrubbing floors,’ he shrugged eloquently, ‘you may do so.’

‘But you need a wife—you said so,’ she reminded him triumphantly.

He slanted a glance down at her and his eyes glittered. ‘I can buy someone else, if I have to. Money, Kate, is the most potent aphrodisiac in the world!’

Checkmate again! She kept her face hidden while she tried to make plans, but her thoughts were dreary. Plans were useless if she became parted from Philip. Her only chance lay in being with the child.

‘Very well.’ She forced a smile and a brisk note in her voice as she wiped her hands on a towel. ‘An hour, you said—then take Philip and the dog for a walk while I do what lean. They’ll both need the exercise if they’re going to be cooped up in a car all day and I can get through quite a lot in an hour.’

When they had gone, she stood at the window for a few minutes watching their retreating figures. A man, a boy and a dog! Philip’s short, sturdy legs were pumping up and down as he tried to keep pace with the puppy, and Kate smiled tenderly at his little figure. Then he stopped and turned to say something to the man and the pale sunlight illuminated his round, plump face. So young, she thought, and wished vainly that he might never have to grow up, never have to lose the innocence of youth, never know how hard life could be. But the Manfred money would be a lovely cushion for him, and she cheered up at the thought. Philip would never be driven into doing unpleasant things just for the sake of money, and if she stayed with him and made sure that his values were the right ones......

With a start, she realised that she was wasting time and started rushing around, sweeping floors, dusting, stripping beds and thanking heaven that she had brought her own bedlinen with her. She made a pile of all the dirty stuff and gave a swift look of contentment at the linen cupboard; everything in it was clean and orderly. She cleaned out the fridge, packing everything into a plastic bag before putting it in the bin—refuse collection on Bodmin Moor was a chancy business— and then she went off to pack suitcases before she washed and changed. It was one thing she missed; the bathroom and the supply of constant hot water which went with it. She had enjoyed the tin bath in front of the kitchen fire after Philip had been put to bed at night. After the first week, to sit in a bath, the warmth of the fire on her face and shoulders and protected from draughts by towels spread on the clothes airer, had seemed the height of luxury, but then came the letdown. After towelling herself dry, there was no chance of sliding into her nightwear and trotting off to bed, warm and relaxed. The dratted bath had to be emptied and put away, which took nearly all the pleasure out of the proceedings.

This morning there was no time for a bath and no hot water either. She shook the kettle; there was still a
little
hot
water
left in it and she was vicious about turning off the taps on the gas cylinder. One hour Jerome
had
allowed her, and she had already used nearly three quarters of it. With a sigh of resignation she poured out the small quantity of hot water remaining in the kettle and made do with that. Her clothes were laid ready on the stripped bed and she hurried into them—a grey flannel skirt, a cream wool polo-necked jumper and a neat navy blue blazer-style jacket.

She was just tying the laces of her practical, sturdy shoes when she heard the bang of the garden gate. A quick glance in the mirror assured her that her chestnut coil of hair was smooth and that the small quantity of make-up she wore was adequate but no more. This was Kate Forrest looking back at her from the mirror, good old, sensible Kate! Kate who taught at school, who liked to sit out in the garden in the summer and who curled up by the fire in the winter with a good book. Kate who liked the gentle things and to whom romantic and unpleasant things did not happen.

She nodded calmly at her reflection in the mirror. That was the way to treat this bizarre situation, she decided—with calm, practical common sense. It did no good to lose one’s temper or to indulge in histrionics or even to contemplate gory acts with a carving knife. Tempers and drama were out! She wouldn’t kill Jerome Manfred or bring him to the brink of ruin. She wouldn’t fight with him, perhaps she wouldn’t even try to take Philip and escape. She would stay put, become once again Kate Forrest, she would be a good, obedient wife and as dull as ditchwater. And she would bore him to death!

They
arrived in London in the early twilight of the February evening and Jerome drove straight to his flat. Kate had enlivened the journey with several bouts of calm, good common sense. The first was when the puppy was sick, the second was when the puppy was sick again and the third, fourth and fifth times, when Philip was car-sick, chocolate-sick and plain bored sick. The inside of the Ferrari had suffered considerably in consequence and Kate had watched Jerome’s face become steadily more rigid with distaste. At the beginning of the journey, she had offered to sit in the back and keep the other two passengers amused, but her offer had been refused. So the mess in the car was his own fault, she consoled herself, and she was glad of it. She wished there was twice as much!

She also diverted her mind from her problems by making bets with herself as to the probable size and splendour of the flat. It would be the sort of place, she decided, where Noelle Lowe would be completely at home—huge, modernistically furnished in white leather, chrome and smoked glass with everything built in. It would not be the sort of place which Philip or the puppy would appreciate, or herself either, for that matter. She would encourage both Philip and the puppy to jump
all
over the furniture and sweep ornaments from low tables on to the floor with as much broken glass as possible! Yes, the whole place would be very elegant, very sophisticated and very expensive—and she won all her bets.

But it wasn’t Noelle Lowe who entered the flat, it was no-nonsense Kate Forrest, who liked cosy, chintz-covered armchairs and the mellow shine of old wood, so after a quick look round, she rejoined Philip in the kitchen. It was a superbly laid out and equipped kitchen and she surveyed it with a faint smile on her lips.

Philip had woken up when they arrived and was now seated at the kitchen table, overtired, fretful and petulant.

‘Don’t want it!’ He pushed at his dish and Kate watched with pleasure as the piece of delicate china containing nourishing soup skittered across the smoked glass table top and shattered on the immaculate Italian floor tiles, sending globules of soup spattering over the floor and the nearby walls.

Firm hands on her shoulders moved her to one side as Jerome passed her, filled another bowl with soup and placed it on the table in front of the little boy.

‘Eat it!’

Philip stared at his uncle warily, obviously assessing the opposition, and then smiled angelically.

‘O.K.! And drink my cocoa,’ he added generously.

When Philip was safely tucked up in bed and Kate had cleared and cleaned the bathroom—it was surprising how much mess a boy and a puppy could make in a bathroom, especially when they were both jumping in and out of the bath and rushing round the floor—she returned to the kitchen, flushed and out of breath. Jerome suggested dinner, and Kate looked at him pityingly.

‘Apart from not being dressed for dinner in a restaurant and not having any suitable clothes with me into which I could change; I can’t leave Philip. He might wake and want me. You’ll have to go by yourself.’

Jerome’s smile was not pleasant. ‘You don’t give up easily, do you? But as I said before, I don’t trust you, Kate. You are, I think, a woman of infinite resource.’
He
stood negligently by the door, looking at her, his eyes mocking. ‘I can see quite well that you aren’t dressed for dinner out, but there’s ample food here and I’m sure you aren’t devoid of the housewifely arts. The preparation of a simple meal for two persons is surely not beyond your capabilities, is it? Then after we’ve eaten, we can have the discussion I’ve been promising.’