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She was torn between amusement and disbelief as she gazed ahead, for there was no sign of another habitation. One corner of Rex’s mouth curled, but it could hardly be called a smile and for the first time it occurred to Davina that he probably felt as tired as herself. When she thought he was going to ignore her remark he slowed down and slid to a halt before a gate bearing a weatherbeaten sign. ‘The farm’s in the hollow just over the rise,’ and he pointed along the farm track.

The paint was peeling from the wood, but Davina could just distinguish the words ‘Nineveh Farm.’ She turned to speak, but as her lips parted Rex broke in, a decidedly mocking note in his voice.

‘Where I come from, it’s usual for the passenger to get out and open gates.’

Davina stared into his impressive face for a moment before turning to climb out and push open the heavy iron gate. As Rex drove past and pulled up she slammed it shut, giving vent to the frustration building up inside. She hoped he had simply got out of bed the wrong side this morning and that he did not intend keeping up such a laconic manner towards her all the time. It came as a surprise therefore to hear him say mildly, ‘Thank you* as she climbed back into her seat. At least life with him wouldn’t be boring, Davina mused, for she never knew what he was going to do or say next.

As they crested the rise and the farmhouse came into view she saw it was larger than she had anticipated. Once through the last gate Rex drove round to the rear of the building and parked the Land Rover by a glassed-in porch.

Davina looked up at the grey stone, the unwinking windows like sightless eyes, and shivered, for it was rather like a scene out of
Wuthering Heights.
Rex had produced keys from his pocket and was unlocking the outer porch and inner doors and when both were open he stood aside to let her precede him into the house.

She walked into what was obviously the farmhouse kitchen, a huge room with a big black kitchen range at one end and furniture of equally large proportions. She stood looking around for a minute before expelling her breath in a long gasp. ‘My goodness! How long did you say the owner had been dead?' she asked the silent man standing at her back.

‘Several months, but I did mention he wouldn’t allow anyone in to clean. That was years ago, apparently, after his wife died. They’d no children and it seems he had few friends. Maybe he just didn’t care for appearances,' Rex concluded. ‘Come along, let’s take a look around.’

The kitchen with its filthy floor and table covered with old, yellowing newspapers should have prepared Davina for what was to come. But she stared in incredulous unbelief as they walked from room to room. The small room across the hall, judging by the single bed in one corner, had been in use as a bedroom, the two big rooms on either side of the massive front door were shuttered and musty and the upstairs rooms had seen neither duster nor brush for many a long day.

In the largest of the four first floor bedrooms Davina in an effort to get a closer view of the furnishings went over to pull aside the heavy curtains. As she did so they began to disintegrate, the shabby material tearing as soon as her hands touched it to hang in festoons along the floor. She brushed her hands together with an involuntary shudder of revulsion just as Rex remarked from the doorway in a wooden voice, ‘A good bonfire would seem to be the order of the day.’

He turned to lead the way downstairs and Davina followed him. ‘Just as well I bought those camp beds,’ he remarked calmly, ‘because we certainly can’t use the ones up there. I’ll sleep in the kitchen and you can bed down in one of the other rooms. At least we needn’t worry about burglars,’ he went on as they passed the front door. ‘By the look of it that door’s not been used for centuries.’

Davina followed him back to the kitchen without troubling to reply. At least someone had cleaned out the enormous grate, she saw with great relief. But whoever the solicitor had sent to clear up had done the bare minimum. Crockery was piled haphazardly on the dusty Welsh dresser and when Davina investigated the sink unit, the only concession to modern living in the room, packets of old detergent and cleaning utensils fell out, along with pans which looked as if their last scrub had been of the hit-or-miss variety.

She thrust them back and straightened to find Rex watching with an unfathomable expression in his hooded eyes which put her on her guard. Instead of the reproaches she had intended making to him for being persuaded to buy such a neglected property she asked simply, ‘Wouldn’t it be a good idea to unload the Land Rover before dark? If you’ll show me how that portable stove of yours works I’ll soon have a meal on the table. But perhaps you’d better turn on the electricity first. It must be off at the mains,’ she added, flicking the switch up and down without results.

‘We’ll have to make do with candles and lamps until I can get the generator going,’ came Rex’s suspiciously innocent reply, then as Davina’s brown eyes widened in amazement he added, ‘They aren’t on the mains up here, I fear. They make their own electricity, but I shall have to fix the dynamo first.'

It was by now patently obvious to Davina that for reasons of his own Rex had deliberately kept her in ignorance of the true state of the farmhouse, but she determined to conceal the dismay beginning to creep over her. After all, it wasn’t as if she had always been accustomed to every convenience. Until five years ago their cottage in Wales had sported a smaller edition of the monstrous range on the other side of the room. She smiled as she recalled her mother’s endeavours to get it removed.

There was little chance of that happening here, Davina thought as Rex went away to begin unloading. She would just have to learn to live with it. A little more exploration revealed a big walk-in larder with a Calor gas refrigerator, and another door led into a bathroom.

At least there wasn’t outdoor sanitation to add to the drawbacks facing her, she thought with relief as she stripped off her raincoat and gingerly hung it on a rusting hook behind the kitchen door. Removing the newspapers from the table she piled them into the empty grate and ten minutes later, sleeves rolled up, was busily scrubbing the kitchen table and the draining board.

The kettle was singing on the small portable Calor gas stove ready for rinsing, and its purchase had been no guard against a possible contingency. Before they started out, Rex must have been well aware of what awaited them at journey’s end, for he had not needed to go and investigate to tell her about the electricity supply. Just what was he up to? Davina wondered, as she poured the boiling water into her bucket and began finishing off the table top.

A camp bed under each arm, Rex stopped beside her. ‘Seeing you now, who would believe only a few days ago you were queening it in a mansion in Switzerland?’ he remarked as she gave a last wipe to the table. She stared as he put down one bed and carried the other through to the hall, a frown between her clear eyes. So that was what he thought! That she liked' pretending she had been born with a silver spoon in her mouth. There had been no mistaking the hint of malice in his deep drawl and she could not help wondering what she had done to incur such disapproval.

But there was no time to try and analyse Rex’s strange behaviour if they were to eat this evening. The household pottery and pans were so obviously, in their present state, unfit for use, so Davina opened the trunk and got out her own.

That was one thing Rex had overlooked, she thought with satisfaction as she found a pretty tablecloth and set one end of the table with her rose-patterned crockery. She slapped lamb chops, sausages, tomatoes and mushrooms into her nonstick frying pan and set them to cook on the small portable stove. Uncovering a large crusty loaf, butter, cheese and a bag of apples in the carton of food Rex had collected at the village shop, she added them to the table. The room was soon filled by the appetising aroma coming from the frying pan, and after making a strong brew of tea, Davina went outside to tell Rex the meal was ready.

But if she expected some appreciation of the speed with which she had set to work then she was to be disappointed. He came into the kitchen carrying a portable lamp in one hand and a packet of candles in the other and began to wash his hands at the sink in silence.

As she placed a loaded plate at his place Davina’s voice was acid. ‘Do you think that will be enough?’

Rex sat down, took a look at his portion and replied, ‘I could manage a couple of eggs as well,’ as he cut into the loaf and began to eat.

Davina cracked eggs into the hot fat and bit back the words hovering on her lips. When they were cooked she walked over to slide them on to Rex’s plate, then took her own place in silence. Rex apparently was not one to waste words and let food get cold, and until his plate was empty he did not speak.

During the meal it had darkened considerably and rain had begun to lash against the window. ‘Good thing the unloading is finished,’ he remarked, and got up to light the lamp and place it at the other end of the table. When he returned to his place, a huge shadow was cast on the wall behind him, and the thought it conjured up made Davina give an involuntary smile.

‘What’s so amusing?’ Rex enquired as he helped himself to a large portion of cheese.

Davina flushed, for he would undoubtedly think her explanation ridiculous. ‘This place for a start,’ she gestured to the big shadowy room. Then as Rex waited, brows raised quizzically, she plunged impulsively on. ‘When we arrived I thought the place looked like an illustration to
Wuthering Heights
, but it reminds me now of being taken by my father to see
Maria Marten
.’

‘Who was she? Some relation?’

‘No, the heroine in a Victorian melodrama. It was performed one Christmas by the Llantarwyn Amateur Dramatic Society back home. The villain, Sir Jasper, has the heroine in his power in a lonely barn.’

Rex helped himself to another piece of bread. ‘And did he seduce her?’

Davina looked thoughtful. ‘Do you know, I can’t remember. Usually in those kind of plays the honest hero rides up at the eleventh hour and rescues the heroine.’

‘But supposing he didn’t arrive in time, or even if there was no hero at all?’

There was that odd note again, Davina noticed, and she looked curiously at the man sitting at the head of the table. Authors were supposed to have fertile imaginations, but the thrill of fear which coursed through her was absurd. She said slowly, ‘But he usually did—arrive in time,’ then as something in Rex’s smile stung she went on impulsively, ‘and of course there’s always a hero. What would be the point of a play without?’

‘You have me there,’ Rex said, then he changed the subject. ‘You’re not eating. Have some of this excellent cheese and another cup of tea. I’ll join you,’ he finished as picking up the teapot he refilled their cups.

It seemed less trouble to do as he said than to argue and she cut a minute corner of cheese and began to eat. Rex got out his makings and began to roll a cigarette, holding it up to ask, ‘You don’t object?’

‘Not at all.’ Davina laid down her knife with relief. The odd conversation had taken away her appetite and she had finished her meal with difficulty, glad when the plate was empty. While Rex smoked, she sat stirring her tea until he broke into her jumbled thoughts by stubbing out his cigarette and rising to push his chair under the table.

‘While you wash and clear away, I’ll run the Land Rover into the barn, then come and make up our bunks. I was going to suggest a walk before we turned in, but this rain’s not going to stop before morning. We’ve both had a long day and as you’ve an early breakfast to prepare in the morning to which Pm sure you’re not accustomed, I suggest we both turn in.’

It was a long time since Davina had been told in such uncompromising tones to go to bed that she began to feel the anger bubble inside as she mutinously got up to put water on to wash up. What right had Rex to order her about as if she were a child? She hadn’t much cared for his last remark either. He sounded as if he thought her incapable of early rising. Well, she’d show him she wasn’t prepared to knuckle under every time he acted like Captain Bligh of the
Bounty.

But it was easier said than done. Since Rex was planning to sleep in the kitchen until the upper rooms were fit for occupation she could hardly insist on remaining in the room while he got ready for bed. She could of course say she wasn’t sleepy, but he was capable of calling her bluff by the simple means of turning out the lamp or even removing her bodily to the dining room where he was busy erecting her camp bed.

She hid her resentment, however, behind a calm smile and when he returned to the kitchen and began on his own sleeping equipment, Davina with a ‘goodnight, then’ beat a retreat, hoping that her tone of voice did not reveal the inner anger at his peremptory orders. There was a soft sleeping bag on the camp bed with a spotless pillow at the head, and a lighted candle standing on a saucer together with matches on a small table.

He’d been thoughtful, Davina had to admit, but after she had undressed and blown out the light it was a long time before sleep claimed her. The mustiness of a long closed up room, the hardness of the unaccustomed bed together with her bewildered conjectures at Rex’s strange manner, all combined to toss her restlessly from side to side. But youth and the conclusion that she would have to make the best of things finally calmed her and she fell asleep, stirring only when the alarm sounded in her ear.

Though
she had set the alarm for six-fifteen and got up and dressed quickly, Davina found that Rex had beaten her to it. Dressed and freshly shaved, he had folded away his bedding and was on the point of making tea when she entered the kitchen.

'I've put a can of hot water in the bathroom. This will be ready by the time you’re washed.’

No ‘good morning.’ No ‘hope you slept well.' Catrin had certainly got it wrong, Davina decided as she went away to have a brief, hurried wash and brush her teeth. Of course,
she
should have been up to provide hot water and tea for Rex, not the other way around, she had to admit honestly. Swiftly she set about preparations for breakfast, cutting thick rashers off the quarter of bacon and setting the table. There was a hint of triumph in her voice when in a matter of minutes she was able to say, ‘Your breakfast is ready,’ as she put the heaped plate in front of Rex’s place and slipped into a chair to sip her tea and butter a slice of bread.