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‘He has,’ Teddy affirmed, wondering why she hadn’t thought to mention it earlier since it had satisfactorily got her sister off the subject of Mrs Chapman.

‘What for?’ Gerry asked, shaken that a man of Crawford Arrowsmith’s importance should visit their tiny cottage every day. It just didn’t seem likely that he could be that interested in the health of one of his P.A.s. ‘He’s not ...’ she paused, and after a long moment brought out the thought that had come to her and which she didn’t like at all, though she couldn’t have said why, other than that it gave her a funny feeling deep inside to think of it.

‘He’s not—interested in you, is he?’ she brought out at last, and was surprised at the relief she felt when Teddy laughed.

‘No, you chump—honestly, the ideas you get! I should think I’d be the last person he’d be interested in Don’t think he thinks much of me.’ That makes two of us he doesn’t think much of, Gerry thought, then Teddy went on, ‘Well, perhaps that’s a bit of an exaggeration. He was all snappy and snarly when he brought you home—then when he called the next day to see if you were any better ...’

‘He didn’t come upstairs, did he?’ Gerry couldn’t stop the question that rushed to her lips.

‘Of course he did. Can you imagine a man of his type, after having put himself out to call, going away without seeing for himself how you were progressing?’

Gerry had to admit she couldn’t, and knew now that the time she had dreamed of him bending over her had been no dream at all. Whatever was in those tablets Paul Meadows had prescribed for her had certainly done the work they were intended to do, though, for she had drifted off into sleep with only her subconscious registering that Crawford was there. And she knew for a certainty she would never have slept had she been fully aware he had been in her room. Never, while fully awake, would she allow her guard to slip in his presence. A memory of the way she had rested her head against him when he had sat with her on the bed after he’d driven her home flitted through her head, only to be pushed firmly away; she didn’t want to remember that moment of weakness.

‘You were saying,’ she reminded Teddy, ‘that you think I’ll see him before I get back to the office. Do you think he’ll call today?’

‘Wouldn’t be at all surprised if he didn’t call tonight,’ Teddy was saying when one of the twins outside decided to make herself heard.

Instantly Gerry forgot about everything else as Teddy went through the living room door. ‘Bring them in to me, Ted,' she called after her. ‘It seems ages since I last saw them.’

Emma and Sarah seemed equally as pleased to see their aunt as she was to see them, and gurgled happily one either side of her on the settee, as she placed an arm around each of them. Then Mrs Chapman was coming downstairs, and Gerry knew as the lady pulled her jacket on, on top of her overall, that the moment to have a quiet word with her had gone. Perhaps it was just as well, she reasoned, as she bade Mrs Chapman goodbye. After she had done her budget she might be able to ask her to come one day a week less. But whichever way her budget worked out, she was sure of one thing—Crawford Arrowsmith was not going to pay for their domestic help.

Gerry enjoyed being downstairs again, enjoyed once more being part of a family unit. Teddy wouldn’t allow her to stir off the settee while she prepared a very substantial lunch, and Gerry ate as much as she could so as not to let Teddy’s efforts go to waste, but she made a poor showing of an appetite.

‘I probably don’t need very much since I’m not expending any energy,’ she told Teddy when she remonstrated with her.

‘Paul Meadows says he wants to see you weigh seven pounds extra by the time the month is out,’ Teddy told her. And something in the way she said Paul Meadows’ name had Gerry looking up at her as she cleared the table, though Teddy didn’t notice as she warmed to her theme. ‘Honestly, Gerry, I had no idea you were so low—I feel dreadful that I was so wrapped up in my own problems that I didn’t see you were fading away under my eyes.’

Gerry burst out laughing at that dramatic statement—she couldn’t help it, for all Teddy was looking very serious.

‘Fading away!’ she scoffed. ‘Really, Ted, that’s exaggerating a bit, isn’t it?’

‘It’s all very well for you to laugh,’ Teddy said, seeing nothing funny in what she had said. ‘Besides receiving a nasty shock at finding you home early with a big hunk of man in the bedroom—first I had Crawford giving me one hell of a bad time, then Paul was giving me what for because I hadn’t noticed you were ill.’

Gerry didn’t feel like laughing at that—all her concern was for Teddy, who wasn’t used to the abrasive quality of Crawford’s remarks. She was somewhat surprised, though, to hear that Paul Meadows had added his two-pennyworth when Crawford had finished.

‘Well, you can forget about them now,’ she said gently. ‘I’ll be back on my feet in no time, and there’ll be no need for you to see either of them again …' She paused as she recalled that Paul Meadows would be their doctor until Dr Bidley came back. ‘Well, I shall take care of Crawford Arrowsmith,’ she amended, showing Teddy a confidence she wasn’t feeling. ‘And with any luck, neither you nor the twins will need medical treatment before Dr Bidley comes back.’

‘I might have to see him for the twins,’ Teddy murmured, ‘though it’s to be hoped I won’t. But I have taken my name off his list.’

‘You haven’t?’ Gerry challenged. ‘But why? He ...’

‘Oh, I got into a temper the day he laid into me, and applied to be put on Dr Farraday’s books in Middle Compton,’ Teddy told her, naming a doctor who practised in the next village. ‘I’ve kept the twins on Paul Meadows’ register in case I need someone in a hurry.’ Then she confessed, looking slightly embarrassed, ‘I felt rather stupid about it after I’d done it—especially after I’d made a point of telling Paul Meadows what I’d done.’

‘What did he say?’ Gerry asked, interested.

‘Not very much—just gave me a long look I couldn’t understand, then for the first time ever he smiled at me, and. said, “If you hadn’t taken that action, Mrs Wilson, I would have taken precisely those steps myself’. D’you know, Gerry, I still can’t understand why he doesn’t want me on his register—I’m not as bad as all that, am I?’

‘Of course you’re not—he’s probably realised he’s got a few too many patients on his work load. You remember the job we had getting fixed up with Dr Bidley when we moved here. It was fortunate, though, that Dr Farraday could take you.’

They talked some more, and the afternoon wore on with the twins peacefully asleep upstairs. ‘Do you think you ought to go back to bed now?’ Teddy suggested after deciding it was time she had a look at Emma and Sarah. ‘You can’t be feeling anything like up to scratch yet, and Paul Meadows will be sure to think it’s my fault it you take a retrograde step.'

Gerry didn’t admit to Teddy how much the thought of getting back into bed appealed, but conceded, ‘What I’d really like is a bath—I could bathe now, couldn’t I, have a rest afterwards, and be up again in case Crawford Arrowsmith calls as you seem to think he will.'

Teddy helped her into the bath, instructing her to yell out if she felt faint, then went to take a look at her daughters.

It was delicious to lie there and have time to soak. Time to let thoughts come and go as they pleased. Gerry had time to think how well Teddy was coping in this, what she would have thought of at one time as a crisis. Had she got Teddy all wrong? She seemed to be coping marvellously —she had Mrs Chapman to help, of course. Gerry hurried over thoughts of Mrs Chapman, and the necessity to have words with Crawford about her, and determinedly turned her thoughts back to Teddy. Had her affection for her twin blinded her to stronger qualities in her she had never seen? She didn’t think so—remembering the way she had sat and cried and cried when Mark had died—the way she had seemed all set to cave in when they had discovered he had died leaving her penniless. Gerry remembered still the utter hopelessness in Teddy’s face—six months pregnant and in the depths of despair.

At first she had thought to seek Robin’s help and advice. She had started to tell him when he’d called at the large house her father rented in Gringham. She had been so sure, she recalled, that Robin would know what they could do to help Teddy, but before she had got very far he had said quite bluntly, his voice she had thought at the time totally devoid of sympathy, ‘Teddy’s in one hell of a mess, isn’t she?’ and that had been all the interest he had shown in her plight, for he had gone on then to talk of his pending transfer within the accountancy firm he worked for to Birmingham. She hadn’t wanted to leave their talk of Teddy there—sure in her own mind Robin would be able to come up with some suggestion that would help Teddy. But she had listened to him talk about how things were moving for him, how once he got to Birmingham it would be only a short step before he was promoted to a managerial position, and then he was asking her to go with him, asking the question she had been hoping for weeks he would ask, for they had already talked of their love for each other, though nothing had been said about marriage, and she had begun to wonder if their relationship would continue in the static role that had seemed likely. ‘Marry me, Gerry,’ he’d said. And she had forgotten Teddy long enough to enjoy the embrace that had followed, as they had kissed.

They had broken away from each other at last, and she had looked at him starry-eyed. Had been on the verge of telling him what he had known all along—that he only had to ask and she would marry him and go anywhere in the world with him. But before the words could leave her lips, a picture of Teddy, now sedated and in bed upstairs, sprang up in front of her.

‘But what about Teddy?’ Happy in her own love for Robin, she had just been waiting, as though, she realised now, expecting him to wave some magic wand that would have Teddy’s problems cleared away. It had been a blow to know Robin was no magician, an even bigger blow to find out he had a hard and selfish streak hidden deep inside of him that had taken a threat to his future with Gerry to bring to the fore. It became all too obvious that he didn’t even want to discuss Teddy.

‘What about her?’ He seemed mystified that she thought Teddy’s problems were anything to do with them.

‘She’s pregnant and has just lost her husband,’ she had reminded him, feeling a cold hand of fear clutch at her that Robin wasn’t understanding how desperately Teddy needed help. Then the cold fear turned to ice, as Robin said blithely:

‘She’ll get over it—I don’t suppose she’s the first girl to be left in that position.’

Gerry came to realising her bath water had grown cold, and sluiced herself off. Funny how she’d seen Robin the other day, she had felt none of the anguish she would have thought she would have done. It had been pure coincidence that she had fainted while he had been there—that and the shock of hearing him telling Crawford the personal details of their relationship. As yet she still didn’t know what Robin had been doing in her office—had thought him still in Birmingham. She paused to consider if he had come seeking her out or if he had by some stroke of fate again been transferred and this time to Layton. He’d known she planned to move with Teddy away from the expensive-to-run house in Gringham, but she hadn’t thought he’d known where they had moved. Perhaps it was just chance that he happened to call at Arrowsmiths ...

Stepping gingerly out of the bath, Gerry towelled herself dry and sat down on the linen basket feeling ridiculously weak from the effort. With the idea in mind of lying down on her bed for an hour, then getting dressed and going downstairs ready to meet Crawford Arrowsmith if and when he called, she left the bathroom. On the point of crossing the landing, she heard a cry from one of the twins downstairs. She listened and the wail grew louder. Teddy must be at the top end of the garden and out of earshot. Wrapping her pink dressing gown around her so she wouldn’t trip over it, she clutched on to the banister and made her way down to investigate the cry.

Emma was sitting in the middle of the living room carpet when she got there. She had one leg half tucked under her which denoted she had been crawling to enquire into something and had probably come up against something solid. Large glistening tears were rolling down her cheeks as she wailed her anger.

‘Oh, you poor baby,’ Gerry crooned, bending over her. She heard a movement behind her which denoted that Teddy had come back, then stretched out her arms to pick Emma up, only to find her strength had deserted her. ‘Emma baby,’ she addressed the child, who had immediately stopped crying when it looked likely she was in for a cuddle. ‘You have a poor old thing for an aunt—either that or you’ve put on two extra stones overnight.’

‘I doubt that Emma has put on that much weight during the last few days—more likely you haven’t the strength of a gnat,’ said a cool voice behind her, and Gerry whirled round—too quickly—to see a business-suited Crawford Arrowsmith giving her a hard look as he studied her face and found the signs of fatigue he was looking for.

Because of her hasty turn round, Gerry momentarily lost her balance, and was forced to cling on to him for a brief moment. When she would have let go his arm, she felt his hand come over the top of hers, forcing her to remain where she was.

How long she stared into those all-seeing, hard grey eyes, she didn’t know. She wanted to look away, but felt some magnetism compelling her to hold his look. Then Teddy was coming in from outside, placing some nappies and the peg bag on the kitchen table and coming to scoop Emma up off the floor.

‘Hello, Crawford,’ she greeted him easily, seeming not to notice Gerry’s eyes growing larger in her head, ‘I thought I recognised your car outside.’

‘How long has Geraldine been up?’ he asked, which made Gerry furious enough to give a sharp tug to try and release her hand.

Her hand was held firm. He didn’t so much as look at her as he waited for Teddy to answer his question. Anyone would think he suspects I wouldn’t give him a truthful answer, Gerry thought, growing angrier by the minute. She had fully intended to be dressed with her hair neatly in a bun, on the offchance that he would call. And now he was here, and her hair was down about her shoulders, the steam from her bath having caused small tendrils of hair to curl about her forehead, and she felt at a decided disadvantage.