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After that she spent a while watching the steamers, remembering how, not so long ago, she had been one of the crowd spilling off the boat on to the pier. That day, with its depressing torrential rain, seemed very distant now. She thought of the people she had met and with whose lives her own had become linked; kind, friendly Ben. What could Rose possibly find to dislike in him? And Celia? What could her aunt have meant? She seemed to have been implying that Richard’s wife was nothing more than a playgirl, out for a good time. Yet how could that be true? Everyone else spoke highly of Celia, and she would surely never have buried herself at Glencarrick if it were true because from what Rachel had seen of the night-life of the district there was little to attract a good-time girl. In fact, as far as she could see the only eligible bachelor for miles was Ben.

She frowned. Ben had plainly been more than half in love with Richard’s wife, that was obvious from the way he spoke about her .... But no, it wasn’t possible. Aunt Rose must be imagining things, or the fall had damaged more than her back. Richard Duncan was not a man to have the wool pulled over his eyes. He had clearly idolised his wife, Why, he had named his boat after her and even now, two years after her death, he still found it painful to speak of her. A man like Richard Duncan would never have such regard for an unfaithful wife. Rachel shook her head in perplexity. Maybe the drugs they were giving Rose were having an hallucinatory effect. It was the only explanation.

She looked at her watch. It was past six, time to be heading home if she wanted to see Melanie bathed and into bed. That was one thing Rose had been right about, the child needed someone she could rely on for love, and that was a role Rachel would have no difficulty in filling. She was becoming very fond of Melanie.

She collected her car from the car park and began the hour-long journey back to Glencarrick. After a day of warm sunshine there was a chill nip now in the air and Rachel was glad she had brought a warm suede jacket with her.

She was little more than halfway on the journey home when she noticed the noise. It was a peculiar knocking sound, coming spasmodically from somewhere in the bowels of the car. She bit her lip, hoping there was nothing wrong with the mechanics of the car, this was something she was completely ignorant about. She was very conscious that Dunglevin was fifteen miles behind her and also that she had at least another twelve to go before reaching Ardenbeg.

She pulled into a lay-by to investigate and as she did so the engine died with nothing more than a gentle splutter. In some alarm she tried to re-start the car, but without success. It was completely dead. It was then that she noticed the petrol gauge. It registered zero.

With a groan of despair she put her head down on the steering wheel. Of all the feather-brained, stupid things to do—to run out of petrol on roads as lonely and isolated as these! Why, oh, why hadn’t she checked? She clenched her fists and brought them down on to the dashboard in furious frustration, cursing herself for her lack of foresight. When at last she began to think constructively again she realised that there was only one thing she could do. She would have to wait and flag down the next passing car.

She got out of the Mini. Parked as it was high on a slope she could see the road stretching empty in both directions for several miles. There was not even a farmhouse in view, nor the welcome tell-tale red of a telephone kiosk. She began to walk up and down with nothing but the odd ruminating sheep for company.

After half an hour, during which it became progressively colder, she realised the futility of simply waiting to be rescued. This was simply not going to happen. There was no alternative but to walk the twelve miles into Ardenbeg to find a garage and telephone Kilfinan House for help. Rachel pulled the grey suede jacket round her a little more closely, slung her bag over her shoulder and set off, glad that the sandals she was wearing were fairly flat and very comfortable. She did wish, however, that she had chosen to wear jeans instead of a full-skirted print dress.

As she walked the grandeur and beauty of the mountains gradually began to take on for her a slightly sinister and ominous aspect. It was the vastness and complete silence of it all that made her aware how tiny and insignificant one small human being was against this huge backdrop of nature. It made her feel very alone and just a little frightened.

She hurried on. She seemed to have been walking for ages, but looking back the way she had come she found the Mini still clearly in view, high on the hillside. Then, ahead of her, far in the distance, hardly bigger than an ant crawling along, she saw another car. With almost a sob of relief she watched it approach, often, when it became hidden by a fold in the contour of the road, fearing that it had turned off down some unseen cart-track. But then it would appear again, looming larger and larger until at last she could see, her relief turning almost into dismay, that it was Richard Duncan at the wheel, and his face was like thunder.

He pulled up with a jerk beside her and got out.

‘What in heaven’s name do you think you’re doing? You should have been back hours ago. Where’s your car?’ he barked.

Rachel pushed a strand of hair wearily back from her face. ‘It’s up there.’ She pointed to where the Mini, its windscreen glinting in the last rays of the setting sun, was perched on the side of the mountain in its lay-by.

‘Oh, has it broken down? That’s tough luck.’ He looked down at her, his face immediately full of concern. ‘My goodness, you’ve walked quite a way, too. What’s gone wrong with it, do you know?’

‘Nothing,’ She bit her lip. ‘I’ve run out of petrol, that’s all.’

‘Oh, really!’ He made a gesture of impatience. ‘I would have thought you’d have had enough sense to keep a full tank. You must know how isolated these roads are. Of all the stupid, incompetent .....’ He got back into his car, still muttering and opened the passenger door for her. ‘Get in. We’ll have to fetch some from Ardenbeg.’ He started the motor as she settled herself beside him, pausing before driving off. ‘Here,’ he said, rummaging behind him among the boots and fishing gear that littered the back of the car and finding his anorak. ‘Put this round you, you look half frozen.’ He placed it over her shoulders and pulled it round her as it she were a child. ‘You must watch your petrol gauge,’ he said, more gently. ‘It’s easy to travel for hours without coming to a petrol station— in fact, without passing another car—on these roads.’ His eyes held hers for a moment and a half smile flickered across his face. Then it was gone, he turned the car expertly on the narrow road and they sped off the way he had come. ‘I should have thought,’ he added, his eyes on the road, ‘that even you would have realised that.’

Rachel shrank a little in her seat. ‘Even you.' That obviously summed up Richard Duncan’s opinion of her; inadequate, thoughtless, stupid. Why was he never around when she was acting capably and intelligently? She glanced at his hands, square and firm on the steering wheel, then at his face, his jaw set granite-hard at the time he was wasting on her behalf.
He
would never do anything without due thought and preparation.

‘Is Melanie all right?’ she ventured.

‘Mrs Munroe put her to bed—eventually. But it was quite a struggle. The child was far from happy at having a strange person to deal with.' His tone was not exactly accusing, but it made Rachel feel guilty, nevertheless, at not being there to settle her charge for the night. ‘You could have put her to bed yourself,' she said tartly.

‘I was not there. I didn’t arrive home until half past seven and came straight out again to look for you.’

‘Oh.’ Rachel didn’t quite know what else to say. They travelled the rest of the way in silence.

At Ardenbeg Richard went to the only garage, where he was obviously well-known, and bought petrol in a can. Then he drove at breakneck speed back to Rachel's abandoned Mini.

‘I just hope this will have taught you a lesson,' he said as he emptied the can into her petrol tank. ‘You’ve more than enough here to get you home, but make sure you fill up before you take the car out again. It was just fortunate that I knew where to come and look for you.' He threw the empty can back into the boot of his car and wiped his hands on a piece of rag. He was still wearing jeans and his thick fisherman’s sweater, although he had changed his heavy sea-boots for shoes. Perched rakishly on the back of his head was a cheese-cutter sailing cap.

‘It was very kind of you,' Rachel said inadequately.

He finished cleaning his hands and got into his car. ‘Right. I'll lead, you follow,' he said, slamming the door.

Rachel started the Mini. She knew she couldn’t hope to keep up with Richard's powerful car and she had no intention of trying. But, to her surprise, he matched his speed to hers, and she knew that she was never out of range of his rear-view mirror. That, she told herself, was how little he felt he could trust her. It was humiliating.

Back at Kilfinan House he parked his car just ahead of her and came back to open her door for her.

‘Thank you for coming to my rescue,' she said gratefully. ‘Goodness knows what time I should have arrived home if you hadn’t come.’ She climbed out of the car as she spoke and found herself standing very close to him. He made no attempt to move, but stood looking down at her.

‘I think,' he said slowly, ‘I’m entitled to a little more than a mere thank you. I noticed the other day at Eilean Dorcha that you were behaving in quite a friendly way, to say the least, towards Ben Carson. What’s good for him can’t be bad for me, I think.’ Swiftly, he bent his head and caught her to him, almost crushing her with the strength of his arms as his mouth came down on hers. For a moment she was powerless to move, then the implication of his words hit her and gave her an almost superhuman strength. She twisted her face away from his and broke from his grasp. Then, looking up at him, her face white with rage, she brought up her hand and dealt him a stinging blow on the cheek.

‘How dare you!’ she said, her voice low with fury. ‘Perhaps you’ll remember in future that I’m employed here as governess,’ she gave the word its full emphasis, ‘and that’s all. It does not give you the right to take liberties of any other kind with me. Ill thank you not to forget this.’

She walked off, her head held high, hoping he couldn’t see that she was trembling from head to foot, whether from rage or the effects of his embrace even she couldn’t tell.

Richard watched her go, his hand held to his smarting cheek.

Melanie
woke Rachel next morning by bouncing on her bed. At first Rachel thought the child was cross with her for not being there at bedtime the previous night, but then she saw that Melanie was grinning with delight and excitement and obviously in very high spirits.

‘Just wait a minute,’ Rachel protested laughingly as Melanie attempted to drag her out of bed. She looked at her watch. ‘My goodness, it’s barely seven o’clock, we don’t have to get up yet, do we?’

Melanie’s face fell. She looked down at herself. She was fully dressed in clean shorts and a pretty blouse; she had washed and combed her hair, and Rachel could even detect a faint odour of toothpaste. All without a single reminder! There must be something extra special about today. Rachel tried to guess.

‘It’s your birthday!’ She knew it couldn’t be that, Melanie’s birthday wasn’t until the autumn.

Melanie shook her head, wriggling with excitement, obviously enjoying the game enormously.

Rachel tried to think what other treat the little girl might have in store and realised with something of a shock that Melanie’s life contained little that a normal child would find exciting.

‘All right, dear, you win. I’ll get up and see what it is you want to show me.’ Rachel struggled up in bed. ‘Give me ten minutes.’ She took Melanie’s wrist and pointed to the hands on her watch. ‘At half past seven the hands will be ... there ... and you can come back. Do you understand?’

Melanie nodded happily and skipped off, Rachel slid out of bed and began to dress. Soon she would have to face Richard at the breakfast table. After the way they had parted last night the encounter was not going to be easy. She sighed. She had so often dreamed of being in his arms, but not like that. No, never like that. But at least it had cured her infatuation. The only feeling she had now for Richard Duncan was cold disgust.

Melanie was back at seven-thirty on the dot. She must have been sitting outside watching the hands of her watch go round. Excitedly, she took Rachel's hand and led her downstairs and out of the house. The morning was bright and the grass dewy underfoot as Melanie skipped beside her over to the barn, where she flung open the big door.

The bam was gloomy after the brightness outside, but shafts of sunlight through the openings in the brickwork that served as windows picked out heaps of logs littering the floor. Rachel frowned. It was unlike Ben to leave such a mess, he was normally a very tidy man in his work.

Melanie was jumping up and down in a frenzy by this time and, tugging at Rachel’s hand, she pulled her over to the logs. Suddenly Rachel could see what all the fuss was about. The logs were, she could now see, carefully placed in heaps and each heap was carefully numbered, the number having been drawn with a stick in the sawdust.

Rachel went from heap to heap. Six logs with a six beside them, one log a long one, eight logs a wobbly eight, the nine was the wrong way round but there were nine logs beside it.

‘Did Ben help you, Melanie?’ Rachel asked, amazed.

Beaming, Melanie shook her head vigorously and pointed to herself, nearly bursting with pride and achievement.

Rachel knelt down and took the little girl in her arms. ‘You clever girl, you remembered what I showed you. That’s wonderful! Let’s find Daddy and show him, shall we?’

For a moment the little figure stiffened, then Melanie relaxed and nodded happily.

Richard was just leaving the house as the two of them ran across from the barn.

‘Come and see what Melanie’s been doing,’ Rachel called. Almost as excited as Melanie, she had no idea what an attractive picture she presented, in a simple flowered smock, her eyes sparkling and her face slightly flushed. Melanie hung back a little, but Richard smiled at her.