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Her fingers over his stayed his movement as he got to the second button. ‘Please don’t, Crawford,’ she said, and in her agitation to stop him before he got any further, had no idea she had used his first name.

His hands fell away from her, and she looked up at him to see he was regarding her warmly, his eyes moving from her cloud of dark hair to her pain-filled wide brown eyes, to the opening of her blouse left by his own handiwork at the cleft of her breasts, and back to her face again. Then he was sitting on the bed beside her, his arm coming round her as he pulled her to rest her head against him.

‘What’s to be done with you?’ he asked softly, and Gerry relaxed against him, needing his strength at that moment if she was ever to find the charge to top up her own diminished batteries.

A sound of someone moving about downstairs had her pushing away from him. Her movement was jerky and she caught the bedside table, causing the lamp it held to go crashing over on to the floor. She winced as the crash sent fresh pain thundering through her head, and Crawford left the bed to put the lamp to rights.

That sound downstairs could only mean Teddy was back. She would have heard the noise upstairs and would be panic-stricken thinking someone had broken in while she was out—for she would have realised by now that she had forgotten to lock the back door when she’d gone out.

Just as Gerry was pulling herself round out of the dreadful lethargy that was threatening to master her, knowing she would have to call Teddy’s name and tell her she was home, she heard her sister’s voice calling up the stairs.

‘Who’s that—who’s up there?’

‘It’s me,’ Gerry answered, and hoped Teddy could hear, for her voice sounded far off even to her own ears. ‘I’ve come home early,’ she added, forcing strength into her voice.

Immediately Teddy started up the stairs, and in seconds she was in the room, her eyes flicking to her sister and then growing wide as she saw the tall man who had been standing watching the door.

‘Who are you?’ she asked bluntly, her eyes going from him to Gerry and back again.

‘Crawford Arrowsmith,’ he supplied. ‘Might I know who you are?’

Gerry tensed in the pause that followed. She saw comprehension dawn in Teddy’s eyes as it came to her that the man who was half filling the room was his sister’s employer. Gerry closed her eyes when her sister began to speak, acknowledging at last that she felt too ill to care that her cover was about to be blown.

‘I’m Teddy,’ she heard her say as if from a long way off. ‘I’m Gerry’s twin.’

Quite what made her groan the way she did, Gerry wasn’t sure. Probably half because of the astounded look of Crawford’s expression before she dropped her eyes away from him, and probably half because if she didn’t soon lie down she was fairly certain she would fall down, she thought.

Her groan brought two pairs of eyes swivelling round to her, and while Teddy was gasping, ‘Gerry?’ as if unable to comprehend all was not right with her, Crawford was telling her sharply :

‘Your sister is ill. Give me the phone number of your doctor, and get her into bed quickly!'

As though in a trance Teddy stared at him. Then, glad that someone was taking charge of the situation, she automatically answered the authority in his voice and told him Dr Bidley’s number. Then, all her thoughts for her sister, she turned to Gerry as Crawford left the room.

‘You do look peaky, love,' she admitted as she approached the bed. ‘Come on, let’s get you between the covers before your boss gets back.'

Teddy, Gerry discovered, could be efficient when she chose, and in no time had her tucked up in bed and was sitting beside her asking, ‘What happened? You were all right when you left here this morning.’ And before Gerry could say anything to reassure her—though to say anything, she felt, would be an effort—the door opened and without knocking and waiting in case she was still in a state of semi-undress, Crawford came in.

‘Geraldine was far from all right this morning,’ he answered for her. ‘In fact I would go as far as to say she hasn’t been feeling well for many a long morning.’

Gerry looked from one to the other. The tight-lipped look she was beginning to know had returned to his mouth, and even though she wanted to yell at him, to scream at him not to take his bad temper out on Teddy, to yell at him that Teddy wasn’t as strong as she looked—she couldn’t find the energy to enter into a row with him.

‘But,’ Teddy was saying, seeming unable to believe him, ‘Gerry’s never ill.’ And as though the implication of her sister being ill had just hit her. ‘She can’t be ill, we need ...’ She broke off as it came to her for the first time that she might be appearing to be a little selfish in front of this stranger who knew nothing, if she knew Gerry, of their circumstances. ‘Did you manage to contact the doctor?’ She thought better than to carry on with what she had been about to say. Gerry’s boss was looking like thunder—so much so, she thought it cost him an effort to answer her at all.

‘He’ll be here before too long,’ he told her shortly. Then looking over at Gerry who had watched, her eyes going from Teddy to Crawford, and who was now looking at him in silent appeal for him not to upset Teddy, his thunderous expression cleared, and he asked, ‘How’s the head?’

‘Fine,’ she lied huskily, and wished they would leave her so she could close her eyes. She felt so tired—she might even drop off to sleep if she was on her own now.

‘You’re dead but you won’t lie down, will you?’ said Crawford, and if she hadn’t been feeling so dreadful, she would have thought he had a deal of charm about him as he said it. Which just went to prove, she thought, as she turned her head away, that Crawford was right and she wasn’t at all well.

Paul Meadows arrived without her being aware he had negotiated the stairs. He was in the room, giving a quick glance to Teddy who was now standing at the bottom of the bed, before he looked past her and at the recumbent form of Gerry.

‘You’re the culprit, are you?’ he said, brushing past Teddy and coming to sit beside Gerry on the bed. She thought he looked as pale as she felt, but he seemed quite cheerful as he went on with a charming bedside manner, ‘I received a message about someone being ill at Honeysuckle Cottage—when I saw the twins sleeping like tops outside in their pushchair, I thought it might be your sister.’

Gerry looked away, feeling she ought to apologise for being ill—it wasn’t any of her doing that he had come racing round to the cottage. But when she looked at him again, she saw his eyes were twinkling and she must have imagined his pallor, because he looked all right again now.

‘I advised you to take care of yourself, Miss Barton,’ he said, picking up her wrist and finding her pulse with the ease of one who does it every day. ‘Though I must admit I didn’t expect you to take any notice.'

‘You advised her ...’ All eyes turned to Crawford as the impatient exclamation left his lips, and while they looked he seemed suddenly to grow fed up with the whole lot of them. 'I'll wait downstairs,' he said, making for the door, turning to ignore everyone but the doctor. ‘I’d appreciate a word with you after you’ve examined Miss Barton.'

‘Who was that?' Paul Meadows exclaimed after Crawford had disappeared. ‘Your fiancé?'

‘No,' Gerry gasped, feeling amusement stirring within her for the first time that day at the very idea. ‘He’s Crawford Arrowsmith, my boss.'

Whatever Paul Meadows thought his face remained bland, and he proceeded to examine her, while Teddy stood looking anxiously on. When he told her the result of his examination, both girls looked at him with shock.

‘You’re thoroughly exhausted,' he said quietly, putting away his stethoscope and taking out his prescription pad. ‘What you need is complete rest and quiet.'

‘Exhausted?' Teddy echoed, her eyes filling up with sudden tears.

‘I’ll be fine tomorrow, Ted,' Gerry assured her, being the first to recover, though badly wanting to close her eyes. ‘All I need is a few hours’ sleep, then I’ll be as right as ninepence.'

‘You will stay in bed for more than one day,' Paul Meadows said severely. ‘I’ll call in again tomorrow, and if I catch you out of bed I shall make it my business to have you hospitalised.’

He was joking, was Gerry’s initial reaction, but to her horror, before she could think further, she burst into tears. And what was worse, once she had started to cry she didn’t seem able to stop. Vaguely she was aware of a conversation going on between Teddy and the doctor, then Teddy was coming over to her and crying with her, then Paul was taking her arm and she barely felt the prick of the hypodermic he plunged into her arm. Then blissfully—floatingly—the sleep she had yearned for was about her, and she drifted off into a fairytale land where nothing mattered and she didn’t have to fight people like Crawford Arrowsmith who were set on finding out her weaknesses.

For three days Gerry drifted between sleep and a twilight world. She didn’t feel ill, just pleasantly drowsy. Every time she woke up, Teddy was there, and would each time pop a couple of tablets into her mouth which she would swallow and drift off into sleep again. Once she’d thought Crawford Arrowsmith had been there, but that part must belong to some dream she’d had while sleeping, she reasoned.

On the fourth day she awoke and didn’t feel like going to sleep again. She felt better and ready to get up and continue living again. She must have eaten since she’d been in bed, but had no recollection of it, and now she was decidedly hungry. There were no sounds coming from downstairs, so she surmised that Teddy must have taken the twins out.

In a mind to go downstairs and get herself a bowl of cornflakes, she pushed back the covers and without thinking went to stand as had always come naturally to her, and received the shock of her life when her legs refused to hold her and she hit the floor with a bang.

She was still sitting on the floor in a dazed state, trying to comprehend what had happened, when the door burst open and as she looked up, her eyes revealing her incomprehension at what had happened, the tall figure of Crawford Arrowsmith came into her line of vision.

He didn’t waste time with words, but scooped her up as though she was one of the twins and held her while she gazed up at him.

‘I fell over,’ she said, thinking how stupid that sounded, when what she really meant to ask—no, demand—was what he was doing in the cottage.

She should be finding out where Teddy was. Surely Teddy wouldn’t have gone out and left him alone in the cottage save for herself asleep upstairs? But none of these questions were voiced. And strangely, as she looked at him, it didn’t seem to matter very much whether Teddy had gone out and left her alone with him. Which made her begin to wonder how ill she had been, because surely it wasn’t right that she should feel so lightheaded.

‘I’m not surprised you fell over if you’ve been trying to get out of bed.’

‘I’ve always managed to get out of bed before without falling over,’ she said in a bemused kind of way while she looked into his slate grey eyes, and wanting to giggle at the idiocy of what she’d said.

Crawford didn’t seem to think she was being idiotic, though, and gave her a smile she found herself liking. ‘I expect you still have your head half full of the tablets Meadows prescribed,’ he explained. ‘That plus the fact that three days in bed are not conducive to any athletics you might care to perform.’

‘Three days?’ She stared at him, her head clearing rapidly at the shock of knowing she had been in bed for such a length of time.

‘Today makes four,’ Crawford said matter-of-factly, and at that moment Gerry became aware of him as her employer.

Became aware she was dressed in a scanty nightie, which although covering her, had slipped up past her knees crooked over his arm. Became aware that her own arm was hooked around the back of his neck, and came vividly alive as a searing blush stained her face.

‘I ... I ...' she began, and received the surprise of her life when Crawford dipped his head and kissed the tip of her nose.

‘Couldn’t resist that,’ he said, moving towards the bed. ‘You blush so prettily.’ And without more ado he lowered her gently down and pulled the covers up over her. ‘Feel like sitting up for a while?'

Gerry nodded, dumbstruck. Then feeling she ought to say something, if only to prove that she still could, she muttered, ‘Yes, please,’ and felt herself pulled gently up to lean against his chest for a brief moment while he adjusted her pillows.

‘What were you out of bed for anyway?’ he asked, as he took the chair from across the room and came to sit beside her.

‘I felt hungry—I thought I’d go and …'

‘That’s a sure sign you’re getting better,’ Crawford said easily. ‘What do you fancy?’

Gerry looked at him and had a funny feeling deep inside her. From the look of him it would appear she had only to say what she would like to eat and he would go and get it for her. And that caused her to have the hardest work in the world in trying to remember he was her boss.

‘I was going to get myself a bowl of cornflakes,’ she said, trying to quieten the unknown feeling inside her.

‘It’s four o’clock in the afternoon,’ he informed her, ‘but if that’s what takes your fancy ...'

‘Afternoon? I thought it was still morning ...’

She found she was talking to the air, as Crawford left the room without another word. If he had gone to fetch her her afternoon breakfast, he would never find anything, she thought, picturing him moving everything in the pantry looking for the cereal box. But in less than a few minutes he was back in the room carrying a tray which bore a long glass of delicious-looking milk, and the bowl of cornflakes she had requested.

She eyed the milk longingly—Crawford couldn’t know of the economies she practised, and it wouldn’t dawn on him, she thought, to think of making sure there was milk to see them through until the morning.

‘Drink it up,’ he told her, seeing her hovering with the glass in her hand. ‘You look as though you can hardly wait —and I promise not to see if you dribble it down your chin.’

This teasing side of Crawford was certainly a side she had never seen before, had never imagined existed. But it eased any of the tension she had been beginning to feel, and made it comparatively easy to say, ‘I don’t think I’d better—the milkman isn’t very reliable,' she hoped the milkman would forgive her because you could tell the time by him most days, ‘and the twins will want some milk for their breakfasts.’