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‘I think I'd like that,’ replied Laura slowly, searching in her handbag for make-up and comb. If she went back to the flat there was the possibility of bumping into Brad, and she wanted to avoid that at all costs. To see again his contempt for her apparently thoughtless behaviour was more than she could take. His aggressiveness, his superiority, she could stand—but to be the subject of his hatred was unthinkable. Her heart was a tight, painful ball. Why, oh, why did she always let Brad assume the worst? If she had allowed him to handle the situation in his own way there was the chance that they might still be friends, whereas now it was impossible to see them ever reaching an amicable relationship.

*

During the few days Laura resolutely kept herself busy. Her visits to the clinic were confined to mornings only, a period she looked forward to immensely as Helen was so bright and cheerful, so optimistic about being able to walk again. Laura deliberately refrained from telling her about the scene with Brad. It would only mar her present happiness and could do no good. Indeed, knowing Helen as she did, she would probably tackle her brother the next time he telephoned, and that would only make matters worse.

In the afternoons and evenings she concentrated on Brad’s typing. At first the sound of his voice as it came over the tape, deep and clear, upset her considerably. It brought back all the emotions she was trying to forget.

But eventually she assumed a professional detachment to his voice and the work became just another job.

The worst times were when she was in bed. Then there was no escaping his presence. How could she forget when she was lying in his bed ? When her head lay upon the pillow used so many times by him? These were the times when she gave way to the misery in her heart. Tears flowed unchecked and very often it was the early hours before sleep eventually released her from her wretchedness.

She saw no more of Philip. He telephoned regularly, but Laura refused to see him, using the excuse that she was far too busy. He accused Brad of being all sorts of a slavedriver, but Laura remained adamant. It would be so easy to turn to Philip in this time of despair. Although he was now aware of her feelings for Brad she felt sure he hoped there was still a chance for him. He had turned out so differently from her first impressions, but in all fairness she could not use him as a substitute for Brad, and that was what it would amount to.

One evening a week later Laura was feeling particularly tired and decided to go to bed early. The telephone rang as she was falling asleep, startling her into wakefulness. Annoyed at being disturbed on one of the rare occasions when sleep was coming easily, she padded through to the lounge and snatched up the receiver. There was only one person likely to ring, she decided, and that was Philip with another of his repeated requests.

‘What on earth do you mean, ringing at this time of night
?'
she said crossly. ‘Getting me out of bed
!'

A slight pause, then a brittle demand: 'Is that how you normally answer the telephone, Miss Templeton?’

Laura’s heart skipped a beat, then plummeted to the depths of her stomach. Why was he phoning at this hour? Perhaps he wanted to apologise? she thought hopefully for one glorious second. But no, he wasn’t the type to say he was sorry for something like that. There must be something wrong with the work she had sent.

‘Mr. Stuart—I’m sorry. I wasn’t expecting you.'

‘Obviously,' drily. ‘What I have to say won’t take long—then you can go back to bed. I didn't realise you were such an early bird.'

His voice mocked her, drew forth a quick retort.

‘Surely I'm at liberty to go to bed at any time I like? I don't have to answer to you for that as well?'

‘Now you're being childish. That boy-friend of yours has done little to sweeten your temper—in fact I would say that you’re more touchy now than before. What’s the matter? Isn't your romance running smoothly?'

Furiously Laura gritted her teeth. She would have derived much pleasure at that moment in slapping him across the face. As it was she contented herself with being icily polite. He would probably be more cynical if he knew the effect his words were having.

‘My private life is no concern of yours. What was it you wanted me for?'

She heard his swift indrawn breath and waited for the next outburst, but his voice when he spoke was perfectly controlled. Although it was not difficult to imagine the tightening of his jaw, the grim lines round his mouth.

'I'm leaving for Africa in the morning, and I shall probably be away three or four weeks. I tried to ring Helen, but she was asleep, so will you tell her that I'm sorry I couldn’t see her again before I left.' His voice softened slightly. ‘So that she'll know I've not deserted her—and tell her that I shall expect to see her walking when I return—that should encourage her.'

Laura felt as though a cold hand clutched her heart. With Brad out of the country what chance was there of them resolving their argument? She realised now that she had subconsciously hoped that the next time they met things would be different. To be the object of his derision was more than she could stand.

‘Miss Templeton!'

‘Yes?' Her voice was small and shaky.

‘Did you get my message?’

‘Y-yes. I’ll tell Helen tomorrow.'

‘Are you all right?' A note of concern. ‘You sound different.'

'I'm fine, thank you,' in contrast to her previous sentiments she was now glad that he could not see her face, for surely her distress must be apparent?

‘Then get back to bed,' he said kindly. ‘I hope you haven't been overworking. You're certainly getting through those tapes quicker than I expected. Take a break now. I shan’t give you any more work until I return, then I shall begin another book.’

‘Yes, Mr. Stuart.' His unexpected kindness made her feel worse than ever and her voice was a mere whisper.

‘Good-night then, Laura, and remember this—no man’s worth making yourself ill over. No matter how much you love him.'

The line went dead and Laura was left clutching the telephone as though it were a lifeline. A link with the only man she had ever truly loved.

Slowly at first tears rolled down her cheeks, but as she walked back into the bedroom sobs' shook her body. He thought she loved Philip! How wrong he was. Her heart and soul belonged to him—would always belong to him even if she were never to see him again.

Once again it was many hours before she slept, and then she was tormented by dreams of Brad. Brad as he had been the day they walked round Shrewsbury. Brad when he kissed her. Brad at his sparkling best.

She awoke the next morning feeling both physically and mentally exhausted. Her reflection in the bathroom mirror revealed heavy shadows beneath her eyes and an unusual pallor to her skin. Aware that Helen would instantly detect any signs of fatigue and undoubtedly comment upon it, Laura skilfully applied extra make-up. The effect was definitely worth while, she decided later, when no comment was made at all on her appearance, unless it was the news that Brad was going to Africa that occupied Helen’s attention.

'Not more research!’ she groaned. ‘How thoughtless at a time like this. He knows I like him to phone me regularly, even if he can’t come. It’s a good job you’re here or I’d go out of my mind.’

‘No, you wouldn’t. You’re doing marvellously. You’ve managed a few steps now, so it won’t be long before you’re as good as new.’

‘It’s so unlike him, though,’ she persisted. ‘He usually has these things planned for weeks beforehand and tells me over and over again where he’s going and how long he’ll be away. He must have made up his mind on the spur of the moment.’

She looked so miserable that Laura felt it time to change the subject. ‘Tell me about your life in the theatre? I wish I’d known you then—I could have come to see you.’

Once engaged on her favourite subject Helen forgot her earlier disappointment and by lunchtime was flushed and happy, bidding Laura a cheerful good-bye.

Laura walked slowly down the steps of the clinic, head bent, pondering over Helen’s statement that Brad did not usually go haring off at such short notice. He must have had a reason, but exactly what Laura could not imagine. She would have thought, as Helen did, that his sister’s health was of prime importance at the moment. Certainly more significant than a trip five or six thousand miles away.

Suddenly she heard a car horn, a voice calling her name. Philip waved from the open window of his Triumph, parked at the kerb. ‘Come on, I’ll give you a lift.’

Laura hesitated only for a moment, then went towards him. It was time she forgot Brad, she determined. What point was there in hankering after a man who could scarcely be bothered to be civil to her most of the time, when here was another' one more than willing to take his place?

As a consequence she put on her brightest smile and when he leaned over to open the door for her the warmth of his welcome was like a tonic. He caught her hands tightly, studying her face. ‘You look tired, sweetheart. What have you been doing
?'

Laura turned her head away from Philip’s perceptive gaze. ‘I haven’t been sleeping too well
.'

‘I don’t need to ask why
,'
he said. ‘Have you seen him lately?’

She knew it was no use pretending and shook her head. ‘He telephoned last night. He’s on his way to Africa now.’

‘Good,’ beamed Philip, and when Laura looked at him reproachfully, ‘Perhaps I might see more of you now. He can’t give you any work if he’s not here—unless that was an excuse not to see me? I’d practically given up hope of you ever agreeing to go out with me again —that’s why I’m here now.’

His smile turned to wretchedness. He looked so sorry for himself that Laura took pity on him and squeezed the hand that still enfolded hers. 'I really was busy, Philip.' That at least was true. He need not know that she had decided that if she could not have Brad’s company she did not want to see anyone else. ‘But if you like you can take me for a drive—I could do with a change of scenery.’

Her words caused his smile to return and he settled back happily into his seat. 'Let’s go,’ he said, ‘before you change your mind.’ He released the handbrake and the car shot forward into the line of traffic.

Laura snuggled down and relaxed. It felt good to be appreciated, even though he could never take Brad’s place, Philip was a much nicer person that she had at first imagined and she felt a genuine regret for the way she had treated him.. However, he did not seem to hold it against her, keeping the conversation deliberately light in order to make her forget her problems.

The powerful car soon ate up the miles and before long they were in the open country. ‘I know a nice little place a few miles further on where they do a superb steak. I don’t know about you, but I’m starving!'

‘I’m not really hungry," admitted Laura, ‘but—' realising the futility in protesting, ‘perhaps something light.’

He grinned. ‘We’ll see. It’s my bet you haven’t had a good meal in days. Leave it to Uncle Philip, We’ll soon have you restored to good health.’

Unable to resist his infectious humour, Laura smiled back, and it was with a considerably lightened heart that she sat down to her meal a short time later.

After that Philip waited for Laura most days when she left the clinic, and gradually their friendship deepened. Although she still yearned for Brad—and knew she would do so for the rest of her life—she was able, under Philip’s charm and single-mindedness, to push her feelings into the background. Little by little the hurt became less until she could think of Brad without the terrible pain that had at first seared her thoughts. He made no attempt to contact her, or even mention her in the frequent postcards received by Helen. So little did she mean to him, thought Laura, in one of her moments of despair.

Then came the day Philip asked her to marry him.

She had invited him back to the flat for an evening meal—the first time she had dared do so since the day of Brad’s untimely intervention. After eating they sat on the settee listening to records. Soothed by the soft music, Laura relaxed at Philip’s side, her shoulder touching his, feeling happier than she had for a long time. Before she realised what was happening his arm came round her, the fingers of his other hand tilting her chin gently but firmly towards him.

His kiss was light, experimental, pioneering the way towards a deeper, stronger emotion which Laura sensed was waiting to be unleashed. She alone held the key. The slightest encouragement on her part and the passion throbbing within him would be freed. Appreciating the unfairness of the situation, yet loath to hurt Philip by rejecting his advances, Laura allowed herself to submit to his embrace. Perhaps his kisses would kindle some spark of emotion, arouse a feeling of which she was yet unaware. But no magic existed, no shower of sparks burst overhead as had happened when Brad’s lips touched hers. It would not be fair to encourage him further, decided Laura, to raise false hopes. Gently she placed a hand against his chest, feeling as she did so the quickened heart beats, and pushed herself away.

‘Philip,' she whispered, ‘I . . . you . . .’

‘Sweetheart.’ He placed a finger against her lips. ‘Hear me first. I know you love Brad, but you must also know that I love you. Your kisses now—does it mean you care for me a little?’

‘I’ve grown very fond of you Philip, but—’

‘Then marry me, sweetheart,’ he cut in earnestly, his face only inches from hers, blue eyes pleading.

‘But I don’t
love
you. There’s a world of difference between liking and loving,’ she replied quietly but determinedly, even though deep down she could see this as a way of solving her problem. She didn’t doubt for a minute that Philip would make her happy, but to marry without love? It didn’t seem right. She loved Brad and if she couldn’t marry him was it fair to consider marrying someone else ?

‘You will—given time,’ Philip was assuring her. ‘I’ll teach you to love me.’

‘Philip, I can’t. It wouldn’t be fair under the circumstances.’ Her eyes troubled, Laura clung to Philip’s hand.