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‘Drinking tea in the teashop.’

‘Didn’t she want you to stay with her?’

‘I suggested that it would be better for her to rest quietly alone, without the effort of conversation.’ There was the merest hint of a smile on his face as he spoke, so faint that Rachel was not sure she hadn’t imagined it. He sat down and rested his elbows on his knees. ‘This is a perfect place,’ he said softly. ‘Quite perfect. I'm glad you came.’ He turned round to look for Melanie as he spoke, so Rachel was not quite sure she heard those last words aright.

Suddenly he put his hand out and gripped hers. ‘Listen,’ he whispered, and inclined his head to where Melanie was playing, hopping from stone to stone, rock to rock, oblivious of everything and everyone, absorbed in a world of her own. ‘She’s
humming!
’

Rachel strained, her ears. There was no mistaking it, Melanie was humming the same song Rachel had been singing as she walked up the hillside. ‘Don’t let her know we can hear,’ she murmured, turning away. ‘She may be self-conscious and stop.’

‘But it’s happening, something’s happening!’ Richard was still holding her hand; she had never seen him so animated. He caught her other hand and pulled her to her feet, his eyes alight with pleasure. ‘And it’s all due to you, Rachel. You’re really getting through to her.’ He stood looking down at her and there was no mistaking the warmth in his eyes. ‘She’s very fond of you, you know,' he said softly.

She licked her lips, fighting the emotions that his nearness always aroused in her. ‘I’m very fond of her,' she whispered.

He stood looking down at her for a moment more and then Melanie came running down towards them, her arms outstretched to embrace them both, knocking them even closer together as she ran full tilt into them.

‘And how many rabbits did you see?’ Rachel managed to ask, her voice a trifle breathless. Richard was still holding both her hands. ‘Six?’

If she had hoped for another miracle she was disappointed. Melanie shook her head and mutely held up four fingers. But she was grinning happily.

They went down the hillside together, with Melanie in the middle, holding hands and singing, Richard’s deep voice blending well with Rachel’s. But although Melanie was almost bursting with good spirits she didn’t join in. It didn’t matter. Rachel and Richard had heard her once; they knew she could if she wanted to; the chink in her armour of silence was widening.

Moira was sitting on a seat overlooking the bay. ‘You’ve been an awfully long time,’ she said petulantly.

‘Have we?’ Richard said in surprise. ‘Well, you could have come to meet us.’ He looked at his watch. ‘We mustn’t be too late starting back because I would like to get home before it gets too dark. I think we’ve got time to take a look at the castle before we go, though.’

They explored the castle and bought sandwiches and scones at the little teashop before beginning their journey home. Moira seemed in better spirits now that her headache had gone and remarked with a sigh as they rowed back to
Thursday’s Child,
‘What a perfect spot for a honeymoon!’

Rachel made no answer to this and Richard appeared not to have heard.

The journey back was something Rachel felt she would never forget. The tranquillity of the evening, the sounds of the boat swishing gently through the water and the wind in the sails gave her a sense of being at peace not only with herself but with the world as a whole. Time seemed to be standing still. With Melanie asleep on her lap—the little girl had finally succumbed to the exhaustion of her exciting day—she sat in the stern of the boat, Richard at the tiller opposite her with Moira beside him, her head on his shoulder, once again looking a little green although she insisted that she didn’t feel ill.

‘How long before we arrive home?’ she asked once, lifting her head briefly from its resting place. ‘There’s a programme on television I want to see. I’m sure you’d be interested in it, too, Rick.’

‘It’ll be at least another hour,’ Richard replied. ‘The wind, although it’s in our favour, is not very strong so we’re not making headway all that fast. I could of course start the motor, but .....’

‘Why don’t you do that?’ Moira said eagerly, and at the same time Rachel put in involuntarily, ‘Oh, no, that would spoil everything.’

‘It might wake the child,’ Richard decided, putting an end to any argument.

Moira made an impatient gesture, obviously bored by the inactivity, and even the sight of seals basking on Lamont Point in the sunset could not fire her with any enthusiasm. It had not been Moira’s kind of day at all, but for Rachel it was a day that would always have a special place in her memory.

It was dusk by the time they arrived back at Ardenbeg. Melanie had woken, but she was still sleepy.

‘Moira, you’ll drop Rachel and Melanie off at Kilfinan House, won’t you? I’ve things to clear up here,’ said Richard as he put them ashore.

‘Yes, of course. Then shall I come back for you?’

‘No. I’ve got my car here, thank you all the same.’

‘We could go for a drink .....’

‘Some other time. In any case, I thought there was a programme on television you wanted to watch.’

Moira sighed heavily. ‘I expect it will be over by the time I get home.’

Richard smiled. ‘Not if you hurry, my dear. Look, Rachel and the child are ready and waiting; they won’t hold you up.’

Moira picked up her bag and turned away—flounced off, would have been an apt description had it not been impossible to flounce in skin-tight denim dungarees rolled up to the calf and deck plimsolls.

Rachel suppressed a smile and followed her to the car, dragging a weary Melanie behind her. The two girls hardly spoke on the way back to Glencarrick, Moira was silent with pent-up frustration and Rachel simply didn’t want to talk and break the spell the day had woven over her.

Back at Kilfinan House she bathed Melanie and put her to bed, where the little girl’s head hardly touched the pillow before she was asleep; then after relaxing in a warm perfumed bath herself she dressed in a long flowered skirt with a cream top, for no other reason than it made her feel feminine and seemed a fitting way to end the day—even though she was spending the rest of the evening alone.

She had just settled down with a book when there was a tap at the door. Richard stood there. He, too, had showered and changed and was wearing grey trousers and a blue shirt that was open at the neck.

‘I wondered if you’d like to come out for a drink with me,' he asked, his tone almost diffident. ‘There’s not much night-life around these parts, I’m sure you must get bored, but we could go into Ardenbeg.’

Rachel felt herself flushing. ‘I’d love to, but Melanie I can’t leave her. After all, I am her ...’ she somehow couldn’t bring herself to say the word governess, '.... she is my responsibility.’

He rubbed his chin. ‘Yes, I was forgetting. I’ve been so used to leaving her in Rose’s care. And it’s no use relying on my father. He’s very fond of Melanie, but he never knows how to handle her. In any case, he’s gone to Dunglevin to visit Rose tonight.’

‘He goes most nights, doesn’t he?’ said Rachel.

Richard smiled and nodded. ‘They’ve always been very good friends. I think he must miss her a great deal, although he would never admit it.’ He hesitated. ‘Well, it’s ridiculous standing and talking at your door like this. As you say you can’t come out for a drink, and obviously you can’t, come to my study and we’ll have one there. That way, we’ll still be able to keep an ear open for the little one. All right?’

Rachel nodded. She knew she should say no, that she was only storing up heartache for herself, but she couldn’t refuse.

Together they looked in at Melanie. No longer did she sleep screwed up with tension; now her whole body was more relaxed and her lips were parted in a faint smile.

‘She even begins to
look
more like a normal child,' Richard whispered as they left the room.

He led the way to his study and poured a drink for her and one for himself. ‘This seemed to me a suitable way to end a very nice day,’ he said, his eyes meeting hers as he raised his glass. ‘Oh, damn! ’ The phone rang on the desk and he moved to answer it.

Rachel was almost relieved. It gave her a chance to compose herself again. Why, she asked herself, did she allow this man always to have this shattering effect on her? Even now, as she sipped her drink, her hands were shaking.

‘Yes, all right, Moira, I’ll come straight away ..... Of course ..... Yes, I’ll be with you in ten minutes .... No, of course I don’t mind.’ He slammed down the receiver and picked up his glass, draining it in one gulp.

‘That was Moira, as you probably gathered. She’s in a tizzy because all her lights have failed and she’s there alone. She wants me to go and have a look at them for her. I expect it's the generator, it’s always playing up.’ He was shrugging into his jacket as he spoke. ‘It shouldn’t take long to put right.’

Rachel got up from her chair and went to the door. ‘It must be rather frightening for her, alone in that isolated farmhouse in the dark,' she commented ‘Oh, she's got plenty of candles. This isn't the first time it’s happened,' he said casually. Then, with more concern in his voice, ‘I’m sorry to drive you away like this, Rachel. Oh,' he handed her her glass with an apologetic smile, ‘do take your drink with you.'

He left and Rachel went back to her own room. She made her drink last a very long time, sipping it while she thought about Richard and Moira. Moira intended to marry him, of that there was no shadow of doubt. But Richard? On the one hand he seemed quite oblivious of her charms and intentions, while on the other she had only to snap her fingers and he went running to her. He could hardly leave her in the dark with no electricity, a little voice from the corner pointed out reasonably.

But she had been in bed a very long time before she heard his car returning home up the drive. Could a generator that was always playing up and wouldn’t take long to put right suddenly have become
that
much trouble?

Rachel
didn’t see Richard for several days and she began to wonder if he was avoiding her, although she could think of no possible reason why he should. She continued with Melanie’s schooling, making silent and very slow progress with her. But it was progress all the same, and she was convinced that behind the shutters that the little girl had apparently put up to keep the world out there was a very active and intelligent brain.

The afternoons were still devoted to the open air. Melanie loved her rambles in the woods and up to the waterfall, and often they would go further afield in search of Ben, working in some far corner of the Estate. Rachel was very fond of Ben in a sisterly kind of way. He was good-natured and fun to be with. But he would never, ever, be anything more to her than a very good friend, she was sure of that. And for his part there had had only ever been one woman in his life, it was becoming increasingly plain each time Rachel talked to him, and that woman was Celia Duncan, whom he had worshipped from afar, it would seem; putting her on a pedestal high above all other women.

Celia Duncan. What an extra special person she must have been to arouse such passions in the people around her! Undying devotion in Ben; Richard, who, having been married to her, could never bring himself to even look at another woman; and on the other hand Rose, who, although she had difficulty in displaying any form of emotion, could not conceal her dislike—almost hatred—of Richard’s wife. Not for the first time Rachel wished she could have met this beautiful enigma.

On one of her frequent visits to her aunt Rachel managed to steer the conversation round to Celia.

Rose, after two months in hospital, was now allowed up to sit in a chair on the terrace. It was getting near to the end of the summer, although the sun was still quite warm, and she was dressed in a forget-me-not blue housecoat in soft wool. A rug was draped over her knees. Since she had been in hospital her thick iron-grey hair had been cut and styled and showed signs of gently waving; her face, too, had filled out. Each time she saw her aunt it struck Rachel more forcibly how attractive the older woman was becoming.

‘In another month I may be allowed home—to convalesce, they say,’ Rose told her in her pleasant low voice. It had a hint of a chuckle in it. ‘I don’t know about convalescing, though, there are so many things I want to do. Is my cottage all right?’ Her voice became anxious. ‘It’s not damp, is it? We’ve had quite a lot of rain since I’ve been in here.’

‘Your cottage is perfectly all right, Auntie,’ Rachel laughed. ‘Ben and I take it in turns to light a fire there. I can assure you it’s not damp.’

Rose pursed her lips disapprovingly at the mention of Ben’s name. ‘Is Melanie with Ben this afternoon?’ she asked.

‘No. She’s gone to play with Mrs Munroe’s little granddaughter. Jeannie sometimes comes in with Mrs Munroe so Melanie knows her and they play quite well together in a funny sort of way.'

‘That’s good. I don’t like her spending so much time with that man.’ Rose pulled the rug up round her and Rachel noticed that even her hands looked younger now that they were no longer work-roughened.

‘She spends very little time with Ben nowadays,’

Rachel said, ‘but I can’t understand why you should object to her being in his company, anyway. He’s kind and gentle and I’m sure he’s very fond of her.’

‘Hmph! ’ Rose pursed her lips tightly again and looked out over the bay.

Rachel sighed deeply. ‘I wish you’d tell me what it is you have against Ben, Auntie. I know you don’t like him, but you never say why. I think he’s rather nice, myself.’

Rose looked at her sharply. ‘That wolf’s not turned his charm on you, my girl, has he?’

Rachel laughed aloud. ‘Oh, Auntie, whatever do you mean? Ben’s no wolf I ’

‘That’s what
you
think.’ Rose turned and looked her niece full in the face. ‘All right, I’ll tell you, my girl.’ She took a deep breath. ‘The night Richard’s wife was killed—do you know where she was going?’