Mills & Boon is proud to present a fabulous collection of fantastic novels by bestselling, much loved author

ANNE MATHER

Anne has a stellar record of achievement within the

publishing industry, having written over one hundred

and sixty books, with worldwide sales of more than

forty-eight MILLION copies in multiple languages.

This amazing collection of classic stories offers a chance

for readers to recapture the pleasure Anne’s powerful,

passionate writing has given.

We are sure you will love them all!

I’ve always wanted to write—which is not to say I’ve always wanted to be a professional writer. On the contrary, for years I only wrote for my own pleasure and it wasn’t until my husband suggested sending one of my stories to a publisher that we put several publishers’ names into a hat and pulled one out. The rest, as they say, is history. And now, one hundred and sixty-two books later, I’m literally—excuse the pun—staggered by what’s happened.

I had written all through my infant and junior years and on into my teens, the stories changing from children’s adventures to torrid gypsy passions. My mother used to gather these manuscripts up from time to time, when my bedroom became too untidy, and dispose of them! In those days, I used not to finish any of the stories and Caroline, my first published novel, was the first I’d ever completed. I was newly married then and my daughter was just a baby, and it was quite a job juggling my household chores and scribbling away in exercise books every chance I got. Not very professional, as you can imagine, but that’s the way it was.

These days, I have a bit more time to devote to my work, but that first love of writing has never changed. I can’t imagine not having a current book on the typewriter—yes, it’s my husband who transcribes everything on to the computer. He’s my partner in both life and work and I depend on his good sense more than I care to admit.

We have two grown-up children, a son and a daughter, and two almost grown-up grandchildren, Abi and Ben. My e-mail address is mystic-am@msn.com and I’d be happy to hear from any of my wonderful readers.

White Rose of Winter
Anne Mather

www.millsandboon.co.uk

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Table of Contents

Cover

About the Author

Title Page

CHAPTER ONE

CHAPTER TWO

CHAPTER THREE

CHAPTER FOUR

CHAPTER FIVE

CHAPTER SIX

CHAPTER SEVEN

CHAPTER EIGHT

CHAPTER NINE

CHAPTER TEN

CHAPTER ELEVEN

Copyright

CHAPTER ONE

LONDON AIRPORT seemed drab and miserable after the colour and vitality of Kuala Lumpur, its illuminated buildings sheltering in a mist of fine rain. There were no exotically patterned cheongsams here, not even the tantalizing glimpse of a songbok among the throng of people bustling towards waiting relatives and friends. It was as cold and alien as Malaysia had seemed six years before, thought Julie unhappily, hunching her slim shoulders beneath the soft sable coat which she had bought on Barbara’s advice for the homeward journey.

And yet London no longer looked like home. Home was a single-storied dwelling on the shores of the South China Sea, and although when she had first seen it she had thought she was going to hate living there, hate everything about her new life, in fact, time and affection had served to make it the reality and her life in London merely the hopefully forgotten past.

But now she was back in England again, and somehow she had to accept that the bungalow outside of Rhatoon was no longer the refuge it had become. It was up to her to adapt to her changed circumstances quickly so that Emma should not find it all too painful.

An attractive stewardess was urging her passengers forward towards the Customs and clearance buildings, smiling as she bade some of them farewell, saving a particularly warm expression for the small girl holding Julie’s hand.

‘Good-bye, Emma,’ she said, bending down to take her hand. ‘And thank you for your assistance during the flight. I don’t know how we should have managed without you.’

Emma glanced mischievously up at Julie, her grey eyes dancing. Then she looked back at the stewardess. ‘Did I really help? Mummy said I was probably more nuisance than I was worth.’

The stewardess’s smile widened. ‘On the contrary. Who else would have handed out all those magazines, if you hadn’t been around?’

Julie’s lips turned up at the comers. ‘It was kind of you to let her help,’ she said. ‘It made the journey so much less arduous for her.’

The stewardess made a deprecatory gesture. ‘That’s all right, Mrs. Pemberton. We enjoyed her company.’

‘Well, thank you again.’ Julie bit her lip. ‘Say good-bye now, darling. We shan’t be seeing Miss Forrest again.’

‘G’bye, Miss Forrest,’ responded Emma politely, and Julie smiled before walking on.

The stewardess had been kind, but then most people were kind to Emma. She was one of those children that attracted attention wherever she went. It wasn’t that she was a particularly rosy-cheeked individual; on the contrary, her skin was pale and did not respond to sunlight, and her hair was black and completely straight, yet for all that she possessed that certain something that singled her out from the ordinary. In the beginning, this knowledge had caused Julie no little anxiety, but as time went by she realized it was simply a family resemblance and not something that belonged exclusively to Emma’s father.

Their luggage was being cleared, their passports checked; everyone was so friendly and polite to the attractive young woman who was travelling with only her five-year-old daughter as companion. But beyond the glass partitioning a throng of people were waiting impatiently and Julie hugged her coat closer about her suddenly, feeling cold and apprehensive. She avoided looking in that direction. Somehow she wanted to delay the moment when she must take up contact again with Michael’s family, and only when Emma tugged her hand and demanded excitedly: ‘Where’s Grandma? Can you see her, Mummy?’ did she cast a cursory glance towards the reception lounge.

‘Not yet, darling,’ she murmured faintly, glancing round to ascertain that their cases were all together. Most of their heavier luggage had gone by sea, in trunks, but they had a couple of cases with them containing necessary changes of clothing.

‘But you did say that Grandma was coming to meet us, didn’t you, Mummy?’ Emma asked persistently. ‘I ‘spect she’s waiting with those other people, don’t you?’

‘I expect so, darling.’ Julie heaved a deep breath. ‘Come along. We’ll go and see.’

Disdaining the use of a porter, Julie picked up a case in each hand and directing Emma to carry her airline bag they emerged into the reception area. Lucy Pemberton, Michael’s mother, had said she would meet them at the airport, but she was notoriously unreliable and Julie was not surprised to find no sign of her. She sighed. Were she not feeling so hollow already. Lucy’s non-appearance to meet the daughter-in-law she had not seen for almost six years might have aroused a distinctly unpleasant ache in the region of her heart, but the events of the past three months had been so traumatic anyway, she felt almost empty of emotion.

Only Emma’s small face drooped with disappointment. ‘She’s not here!’ she announced indignantly. ‘Oh, Mummy, why? Why isn’t she here like she said she would be?’

Julie bent to the child, putting down the cases with a sigh. ‘Don’t upset yourself, darling. Grandma is probably on her way at this very moment. But you don’t know what it’s like here. The traffic is very busy! And she’s most likely been caught in a traffic jam. You know what they are now, don’t you?’

Emma sniffed. ‘I s’pose so. But why didn’t she set out quickly enough to be here to meet us?’ Emma was a very logical child.

Julie shook her head, straightening. ‘I don’t know, darling.’ She glanced surreptitiously at the broad masculine watch on her slim wrist. The plane had landed only a few minutes behind schedule. Lucy should have been here. ‘How would you like to go into the restaurant and have a Coke?’ she suggested. ‘Just until Grandma arrives? In fact I could see if I could telephone her from the restaurant.’

Emma frowned. ‘Won’t we miss her, though? I mean – if she arrives just after we’ve gone into the restaurant?’

Julie sighed again. ‘No. Look, if we sit near the windows we’ll be able to see everyone coming and going.’

Emma was unconvinced and Julie felt impatient suddenly. It should not have been too much to ask that Lucy should be here on time just this once. Particularly after the thousands of miles they had travelled. Didn’t she realize that after such a flight one was tired and disorientated, unable to cope with the usual upsets with the same degree of calmness?

A thought struck her. What if Lucy had forgotten altogether? It was not impossible. If it was her bridge afternoon, or her golf afternoon; (did people play golf in the rain?) or even one of those charity whist drives she loved to organize, it was quite possible that their arrival should pass unnoticed.

And after all, she had never liked Julie. She had shown that quite plainly. The very last thing she had wanted was for her to marry one of her beloved sons, and when that happened Michael had made things easier by taking the appointment in Rhatoon.

There was always Emma, of course. Three years ago when Michael had brought the child to England, he had said that his mother had doted on the child, but perhaps things would be different now that Julie was here. And Michael was dead …

‘Well, we can’t stay here,’ Julie said now, trying to sound competent and reasonable. ‘Come along, darling. I could do with a cup of tea myself.’

‘Julie!’

The hard masculine tones brought Julie up short and she turned reluctantly to face the man who had spoken. Even before she turned she knew exactly who it was, and her nerves jerked with exhaustion. Now was not the moment to confront Robert Pemberton, not when she was tired and uneasy and absurdly vulnerable, even after all this time.

Tall and lean, with hair as dark and straight as Emma’s brushing the collar of his expensively casual cream suede suit, he looked sleek and powerful, and compellingly sure of himself. He was not a handsome man, neither of the Pembertons had been that, but like Emma he possessed that elusive element of charm, and consequently he had always made other men, more strictly handsome men, seem insipid by comparison. He did not seem to have changed at all, except perhaps that his eyes were more deeply set in a face that wore a year-round tan due to the countless trips abroad he was able to make, and his expression did nothing to aid her failing confidence. Indeed, if anything he was regarding her with faint contempt and his lips twisted wryly as she held out a rather unsteady hand.

‘Hello, Robert,’ she managed. ‘How are you?’

He shook her hand briefly, his own cool and detached, his gaze flickering over her with painful appraisal. He had always had the knack of being able to reduce her to embarrassment by the directness of his stare, but on this occasion she endeavoured to hide her confusion, forcing herself to the knowledge that she was no longer a girl, no longer in his employ; she was a woman who had been married and widowed, with a five-year-old daughter. She must not think of all that had gone before. That was in the past. She must live for the present and think only of the future. Emma’s future.

Now Robert dropped her hand and said coolly, ‘I’m fine, thank you. And you?’ It was a formality, nothing more.

‘Fine. Fine.’ Julie assumed a mask of composure, hiding behind it like a fugitive fleeing from justice. Whenever she was emotionally disturbed she tried to do this, knowing that to an outsider she must appear cold and indifferent when this definitely was not the case.

Robert regarded her broodingly for a long moment, and she thought he was about to mention Michael, but then he dropped to his haunches beside the child. ‘Hello, Emma,’ he said. ‘Remember me?’

Emma stared at him consideringly. ‘No – o,’ she replied honestly. ‘But you look a little bit like Daddy, so I s’pose you must be Uncle Robert.’

‘That’s right.’ Robert smiled, the coldness which had been evident in his manner when he was speaking to Julie disappearing beneath Emma’s innocent charm. ‘Who told you I looked like Daddy?’

‘Mummy told me.’ Emma glanced up at Julie for a moment. ‘Didn’t you?’

Julie made an involuntary gesture, but Robert’s eyes never left the child’s face. ‘I see. And do I rate a kiss?’

Emma hesitated. ‘All right,’ she agreed, and leaning forward touched his cheek with her soft lips. She wrinkled her nose when it was over. ‘But why were you so late? And where’s Grandma? Mummy said she was coming to meet us. Where is she?’

Robert straightened, and looking round beckoned a porter to come and take their cases. Then he looked down and said: ‘Grandma couldn’t come. She’s not feeling well.’

Julie glanced at him quickly, sensing a rebuke, but he was not looking at her. He was talking to the porter, indicating the luggage, pointing outside to where his car was waiting. He had the supreme self-confidence that comes from always being used to giving orders, and Julie felt a fleeting irritation that he should so arrogantly take charge of the situation without offering any explanations, without even telling her where his mother was or why she should not be feeling well.

Now he turned. ‘Let’s go,’ he said, to no one in particular. ‘My car’s this way. We can talk on the way to town.’

Emma slipped her hand into Julie’s again, drawing her mother’s attention to herself. ‘Is it all right?’ she whispered. Emma’s whispers were all of the stage variety, and Robert could not fail to have heard her.

‘I expect so,’ replied Julie, managing a slight smile. ‘Come on. We’ll soon be able to have a bath and change our clothes. And those eyes look very tired, young lady.’

Emma smiled. ‘It’s exciting, though, isn’t it?’ she breathed. ‘I mean – we are here, aren’t we? In London. Do you think Grandma will be better by tomorrow?’

Julie shook her head. ‘I have no idea,’ she answered shortly, and was conscious of a faint reaction from the man ahead of them. He seemed to hesitate, as though he was about to say something more, but then he went on, his broad shoulders blocking Julie’s vision until they reached the swing doors and he stood aside politely to allow her to precede him.

Robert’s car was a pale grey Aston Martin, sleek and powerful, like the man himself. Six years ago, Julie reflected, he had driven an E-type Jaguar, but perhaps his tastes had changed since then. The porter stowed their cases in the boot of the car, and straightened to thank Robert enthusiastically for the tip he received. Robert seemed indifferent to the man’s gratitude, his face expressionless as he held open the passenger door for Julie to get in. Emma clambered into the back, bouncing up and down on the seat.

‘Isn’t it a super car?’ she exclaimed, her annoyance at the non-appearance of her grandmother vanishing in the excitement of the moment.

‘Super,’ echoed Julie, a trifle dryly, giving her small daughter a smile before hunching her shoulders in the soft fur coat.

Robert came to get in beside her, slamming his door and flicking the ignition with impatient precision. His thigh was only a few inches away from hers, and she had only to move her leg slightly to encounter his, and the realization brought back a flood of recollections she had forced herself to believe were forgotten. But was anything truly forgotten? she asked herself. Was it not more accurate to say that the mind could shed veils over things one wanted to forget, and until those veils were tom aside one could delude oneself into believing anything?

Robert turned on the screen wipers as they moved out of the parking area into the stream of traffic making for the city. The rain wasn’t heavy, but it was grey and dismal, causing the cars to use their lights even though it was only the middle of the afternoon. To Emma, it was all curiously new and exciting, but Julie shivered. She knew how cold and miserable London could seem in November.

Robert was an expert driver, his long-fingered hands sliding smoothly round the wheel, his eyes intent on the road ahead. However, as the traffic thinned on the motorway, he said: ‘There are some cigarettes in the glove compartment, if you’d like one.’

Julie shook her head. ‘I seldom smoke,’ she replied politely. Then, for Emma’s sake, she went on: ‘I hope your mother’s not seriously ill.’

Robert flicked a glance in her direction. ‘A cold, nothing more.’

‘I see,’ Julie linked her fingers together in her lap.

‘Where are you taking us, Uncle Robert?’ Emma asked, her arms resting on the backs of their seats. It was the question Julie had wanted to ask since Robert met them at the airport, but had been unable to voice.

Robert swung past a lumbering wagon before replying. Then he said casually: ‘We’re going into the city, Emma. I live there. I have an apartment. Would you like to see it?’

Julie looked swiftly at him. ‘Where’s your mother?’

Robert’s expression hardened. ‘Don’t alarm yourself, Julie. She’ll be there waiting for us.’

‘I’m not alarmed!’ Julie couldn’t prevent the sharpness of the retort. She hated this feeling of tension he was deliberately creating, and although Emma could not be aware of it, she resented it.

‘You mean Grandma is waiting for us at your apartment?’ cried Emma excitedly.

‘That’s right. She’s longing to see you again.’

Robert’s tone was entirely different when he spoke to Emma. And well it might be, thought Julie dryly. After all, she could hardly expect Robert to welcome her warmly after everything that had happened. But perhaps outright anger would have been better to cope with than this curt civility that was so chilling, so cold-blooded …

‘Your mother lives with you, then?’ Julie ventured at last. She had to ask.

Robert shook his head. ‘No. She doesn’t live in Richmond any more, as you possibly know, but she has an apartment of her own in town.’

‘I see.’ Julie frowned. She didn’t altogether care for that. If they were to live with Lucy, as she had led them to believe from her letters, an apartment in town was not the environment Julie would have chosen for Emma. After the freedom of the last few years it would be very hard for her to adapt.

And Robert was making things no easier by behaving as though she should be content to wait and see what was to happen to them. And he still hadn’t mentioned Michael! Why? Because of Emma’s presence? Or for some other reason? Surely he must realize after three months that they were both able to accept the situation, however distressing it might be. But it was not up to her to bring up that subject, so she said nothing.

‘Will I be able to see Buckingham Palace from my window?’ Emma was asking now, and Julie turned to reprove her with gentle tolerance. ‘London’s not like Rhatoon, darling,’ she said, smiling. ‘There are lots and lots of buildings here. Skyscrapers, too. You know what they are, don’t you?’

Emma’s lips drooped. ‘What will we see, then? The sea?’

Julie sighed. ‘No, not the sea. Probably more houses,’ she added dryly.

Robert changed down rapidly. ‘Stop trying to put the child off even before she’s seen where she’s going to live,’ he said briefly. Then, to Emma: ‘Actually, you can see Buckingham Palace from the apartment windows.’

Julie’s cheeks burned at the reproof, but Emma was delighted. ‘Can you? Can you really? Is it very high up?’

‘Very high up,’ agreed Robert. ‘The top of a skyscraper, in fact.’

‘Gosh!’ Emma was impressed. ‘How do we get up there? Are there lots of stairs? Do we go round and round like we did in the pagoda—’

‘There are lifts,’ inserted Julie shortly, trying to calm her indignation. She realized her explanations to Emma must have sounded off-putting, but she was tired, too. Couldn’t Robert make allowances for that?

‘Electric lifts,’ said Robert, continuing his conversation with Emma almost as though Julie was not present. ‘You work them yourself. You just press a button for the floor you want, and up you go.’

‘But what if the lift’s upstairs and you’re downstairs?’ asked Emma, with her painstaking logic.

Robert grinned at her over his shoulder, but Julie looked away. She couldn’t bear the realization that unless she was careful Robert would succeed in winning Emma’s affection. She didn’t want that. It might be a selfish thought, but that was something she could not accept. Not now. Not now that Michael was dead.

Oh, why had he had to die? she asked herself for the umpteenth time. Their world had seemed so peaceful, so secure. And now it was shattered.

Neither Robert nor Emma were aware of her anxieties. ‘Good question,’ Robert was remarking in answer to Emma’s query. ‘Well, you press another button, and the lift automatically comes down to you. And in the same way, if you’re upstairs and the lift is down it comes up. Of course, it’s an enormous building, so there are six lifts really.’

Emma was impressed. ‘But what would you do if the lifts broke down?’ she asked. ‘If there was no electricity to work them.’

Robert slowed behind a stream of cars entering Hammersmith flyover. ‘There are stairs to use in an emergency,’ he answered. ‘But I shouldn’t care to have to climb them, would you? Those short legs of yours might wear away before you reached the top.’

Emma giggled, and Julie steeled herself to look about her with feigned interest. But in actual fact, it was interesting. So much old building had gone and in its place the concrete structures of streamlined living. The motorways were a revelation, linking and interlinking in a network of steel girders. She wondered whether she would ever dare drive here again after the quiet roads around Rhatoon, and then decided rather wryly that she might not get the chance. After all, Michael had left all his shares in the company to the family, and what little income she had in her own right would scarcely run to a car. Indeed, she expected to have to return to secretarial work to support herself. She didn’t want to feel beholden to the Pembertons.

By the time they reached Sloane Street and turned into Eaton Gate, Julie had her bearings again. Inner London had changed much less than the outskirts, and it was all painfully familiar. They passed the end of the street where the Pemberton Construction Company had its offices, and she recalled with clarity her first day there in the typing pool. She had been very young in those days, and it wasn’t until later that she progressed up the scale to become Vincent Harvey’s secretary, and through him had been introduced to the chairman, Robert Pemberton. Her nerves tautened. The classic situation, she thought bitterly. Ideal scope for the romantic. But how disastrously it had all ended.

Robert was turning into a quiet square and presently he brought the car to a halt in the forecourt of an immense block of apartments. Even in the rain, Julie could see how impressive it all was, the sculptured forecourt with its formal gardens and fountains, the shallow steps leading up to a row of swing glass doors, the commissionaire from his office vetting all would-be visitors. Recognizing Robert’s car, he saluted politely and Robert raised a casual hand in his direction as he slid from behind the wheel.

When Robert opened the boot to take out their luggage, the commissionaire left his office to approach them. ‘Good afternoon, sir. May I be of assistance?’

Robert shook his head, drops of water sparkling on the thick darkness of his hair. ‘Thank you, Norris, I can manage. Miserable afternoon, isn’t it?’

‘Yes, sir.’ Norris looked curiously at Julie and Emma, who had climbed out of the car and were standing together looking vaguely lost and alien.

Robert intercepted Norris’s interest and standing down the cases, he straightened and slammed the boot lid. ‘My sister-in-law and her daughter are staying with me for a few days,’ he commented by way of an explanation. ‘They’ve just arrived back from Malaya.’

Julie’s eyes widened at this unexpected piece of information. They were to stay with Robert?

But she could not say anything with Norris looking on, so she confined herself to a pointed stare at her brother-in-law. However, Robert seemed utterly indifferent to her reaction, and picking up the cases he indicated that they should precede him into the building.

Julie took Emma’s hand and climbed the shallow steps seething with indignation. What did he mean? Why were they to stay with him? Lucy had said in her letters that they were to stay with her, that she was lonely now that Robert had his own apartment, that she would welcome them into her home wholeheartedly. Needless to say, Julie had taken this with some degree of scepticism. She knew her mother-in-law too well to believe that she should have changed her attitude towards her. But even so, she had never doubted the truth of the arrangements.

In the cramped environs of the lift, cramped with two adults, one child, and two suitcases, Julie had to say something.

‘Why are we to stay with you, Robert? I understood from your mother’s letters we were to stay with her.’

Robert was propped indolently against the wall of the lift, his legs astride the cases. ‘Now now, Julie,’ he responded curtly. Then to the child: ‘Well, Emma? What do you think?’

Emma was thankfully too young to be aware of the undercurrents present in the adults’ conversation and smiled up at him. ‘Does it take very long to reach the top?’

‘Not very. We’ll be there in a few seconds. Look – can you see the red light moving behind those numbers? They’re the numbers of the floors we’re passing. See – ours is this one, right at the top.’

Emma’s eyes grew wide. ‘Oh, yes. Look, Mummy, we’re almost there. Gosh, my tummy feels all empty somehow.’

There was a slowing moment when Emma looked slightly disconcerted at the sudden change in her metabolism, and then the lift stopped and Robert opened the door.

They stepped out on to a pile-carpeted hallway, but although all the lifts opened on to this hall there were only two doors, and one of them was obviously a service door. Julie was impressed in spite of herself. Robert’s apartment must be huge.

Robert lifted the cases, but as they reached the door into the apartment it opened and a man, dressed all in black, stood waiting for them. He was middle-aged, with greying gingery hair, and a ginger moustache.

‘Oh, hello there, sir,’ he greeted Robert cheerfully, his round face beaming. ‘I heard the lift and I said to Mrs. Pemberton, I bet that’s Mr. Robert, and it is!’

Robert smiled faintly. ‘Very efficient,’ he remarked dryly. ‘Here, you can take these cases.’

‘Yes, sir.’

The man came forward and as he did so Robert glanced rather reluctantly at Julie. Then he said shortly: ‘This is Halbird, Julie. He goes everywhere with me. He’s a sort of general factotum, I suppose. At any rate, he’s capable of turning his hand to anything.’

Julie smiled the sort of wintry smile that was all her tight features would run to. ‘Good afternoon, Halbird.’

‘Good afternoon, madam. And you, too, miss,’ he added, looking warmly at Emma. ‘I hope you had a pleasant journey. Not much of a day for arriving back here, though, is it? Miserable!’

‘Miserable,’ echoed Julie, and Emma, with her usual curiosity, said:

‘Why hasn’t your moustache gone grey, like your hair?’

‘Emma!’ Julie was horrified, but both Halbird and Robert laughed.

‘I don’t know, little missy,’ he replied, picking up the cases. ‘Perhaps the frost hasn’t penetrated that far yet.’

‘What do you mean?’ Emma frowned.

‘You can discuss the merits of Halbird’s appearance later, young woman,’ observed Robert then. ‘Come along. Grandma’s waiting to see you.’

But not to the extent of coming to the door to greet them, thought Julie bitterly, and then chided herself for being so petty. She had been in the country scarcely more than an hour and already she was allowing the situation to upset her.

‘Do go in,’ Robert directed, his voice noticeably cooler as he addressed his sister-in-law, but Julie drew back.

‘You lead the way, Robert,’ she insisted. ‘After all, it is your apartment.’

Robert’s eyes were hard as they encountered her defensive green ones for a brief moment, and then without a word he took Emma by the hand and walked through the cream panelled door. Julie followed more slowly, her heels sinking into the soft carpet of the entrance hall. The tapestry-hung walls were highlighted by examples of native wood-carving he had collected on his various trips abroad, and there was a cedar wood chest on which stood a vase of Peking jade which Julie realized must be priceless.

Robert didn’t stop to give them time to remove their coats but opened the door into the lounge beyond, ushering Emma before him. Julie heard her mother-in-law’s exclamation of delight when she saw her granddaughter, and then she, too, entered the huge room. And it was huge, stretching as it did from one side of the apartment block to the other, the outer wall a miracle of plate glass. But before Julie could take in the exquisite appointments of it all, her eyes focused on the woman reclining gracefully on a low couch near the windows, presently embracing Emma, and exclaiming at how tall she was and how grown-up she seemed from the toddler she remembered.

Julie stood hesitantly on the thick apricot-coloured carpet, feeling ridiculously youthful and vulnerable as she had always done in this woman’s presence. She could remember clearly the first time she had been introduced to Lucy Pemberton. Robert had introduced them, and she had known from the outset that no girl would ever live up to the standards Lucy Pemberton expected for her sons.

But now Lucy seemed to remember her daughter-in-law, and holding Emma close to her with one arm, she extended a hand to Julie. ‘Julie darling,’ she exclaimed. ‘Forgive me! But it’s so enchanting to see Emma again, and after – after everything that’s happened …’

Julie responded immediately to the emotion in Lucy’s voice, hurrying forward to bend and kiss her mother-in-law’s perfumed cheek. ‘It’s good to see you again, too, Lucy,’ she averred warmly, and then realized that Lucy hadn’t exactly said it was good to see her. But she thrust such uncharitable thoughts aside and when Lucy patted the couch beside her, she subsided into the seat and loosened her coat with nervous fingers.

‘I must apologize for not being at the airport to meet you,’ Lucy went on, her expression indulgent. ‘But I’ve had the most dreadful cold, and Robert insisted I stay here.’

‘That’s all right.’ Julie was quick to deny that any offence had been taken. ‘And are you feeling better?’

‘Oh, much better.’ Lucy looked up at Robert, who was standing watching this interchange rather grimly. ‘Darling, do you think Halbird could provide us with some tea? I’m sure Julie would love a cup, wouldn’t you, dear?’

Julie nodded, avoiding Robert’s critical stare. ‘Thank you, that would be lovely.’

‘Oh, there’s so much to say!’ exclaimed Lucy suddenly, hugging Emma close to her. ‘You and I have got to get to know one another properly, haven’t we, Emma?’

Halbird had carried in the cases and disappeared with them through another door which obviously led to the other rooms of the apartment, and Robert departed, obviously in search of him.

‘Do you live here, Grandma?’ Emma asked, looking about her in wonder, and Julie was not surprised. Life in Rhatoon had hardly prepared her for such apparent luxury. Apart from its size, the lounge was extensively furnished, but despite the quality of the furnishings it was not a bleak room. There was a warmth about it, a lived-in quality, that appealed to Julie in spite of herself. Even so, to a little girl it was all rather overwhelming and Emma seemed fascinated by the pseudo cowl-fire which broke up the central area and provided a focal point.

‘No, darling,’ Lucy was replying now. ‘Nowhere so grand. I have a flat in a mews not far from here. You’ll see it in good time, I expect. But Uncle Robert uses his apartment for entertaining, so naturally it has to be very grand and important.’

‘Entertaining?’ repeated Emma. ‘You mean he puts on shows?’

Lucy chuckled, and Julie felt impatient suddenly. Surely someone should tell her what was going on. Why were they here? Why weren’t they staying with Lucy as arranged. And why didn’t Lucy say something? When were they all going to talk? Really talk, about the things that really mattered! Like Michael’s death, for example!

CHAPTER TWO

EMMA was asleep, and Julie was changing for dinner.

The afternoon tea Halbird had provided, a delicious spread of wafer-thin sandwiches, savoury biscuits, and cream cakes, had been more than enough to make Emma drowsy, and after a swift shower she had tumbled into bed without any protest.

Their rooms were linked by the bathroom, which they were to share, and as with the lounge the appointments were attractively exquisite. Emma’s bedroom was smaller than her mother’s with a fluffy blue carpet and pale blue curtains and covers, while Julie’s room had a white carpet and violet covers and curtains. Both rooms had long fitted units to take their clothes, and during tea Halbird had hung those garments which were likely to crease in the wardrobes. The trunks containing the rest of their belongings had not arrived yet, but Julie expected they would be here in a few days as they had been sent in advance.

Julie surveyed her reflection critically in the dressing-table mirror as she brushed her hair. Had she changed much? Could Robert see much difference in her? Did she look much older?

She sighed. What did it matter what Robert thought? Although nothing had been said yet about the change in arrangements she knew that if they were to stay here for a few days it must be that Lucy had not been entirely truthful when it came to explaining the circumstances. And Julie had no intention of remaining in Robert’s apartment any longer than was absolutely necessary. Even if it meant taking a job and finding a flat of their own.

She leant forward to examine the shadows beneath her eyes. She was not sleeping well, and it was beginning to show. She pressed her lips together impatiently. What did it matter? There was no one to care how she looked here, of that she had few doubts. Lucy was accepting her because of Emma, and Robert …

A sliver of apprehension caused an involuntary shudder. She would not think of the past. She would think only of the present. And to hell with the rest.

She rose from the dressing-table stool and smoothed the skirt of the one and only evening dress she had carried with her, a slim-fitting gown of dark blue crepe jersey, that brushed her ankles and accentuated her excessive fairness and slenderness of figure. Her hair she wore as she always wore it, straight as a silver curtain about her shoulders.

When she was satisfied that there was no improvement she could make she emerged from her room and walked slowly along the panelled hall to the double doors of the lounge. A faint odour of continental coffee pervaded the air, and she sniffed appreciatively. She was not hungry, she had eaten little of Halbird’s spread at teatime, but she did enjoy good coffee.

Lamps illuminated the lounge, giving a curiously intimate atmosphere to a room that could never be described as such. And yet it was warm and comfortable, and deserted at the moment.

Julie closed the doors behind her and walked across to the plate glass windows. Venetian blinds had been let down and through them she could see the panorama of the city glittering with a myriad lights below her. And yet for all that they were in the heart of the city, it was silent up here, silent and isolated, and remote like the cabin of an airliner. One could not fail to get an inflated feeling of one’s own importance living here, thought Julie ruefully.

She was startled into awareness by the closing of the door and swinging round to face Robert Pemberton she paused to wonder how long he had been standing there, watching her. He was not wearing a dinner jacket but had shed the informal suede for a charcoal grey lounge suite that fitted his lean body closely, accentuating the length of his legs and the hard muscles beneath the rippling material. From the dampness of his hair, she guessed he had recently stepped out of the shower.

His gaze flickered over her for a moment, taking in the fragility of her appearance, and then with a casual movement of his shoulders he walked across to where an opened cabinet displayed an assortment of bottles.

‘What will you drink?’ he inquired, turning his back on her and uncorking the whisky bottle, scooping ice out of its container, chinking it into a glass.

Julie took a deep breath. ‘Gin and tonic, please,’ she replied, taking care that her voice should reveal none of her thoughts.

Robert made the drink and turning walked across to hand it to her. As he did so Julie caught his gaze, and taking the initiative, she said: ‘Are you going to tell me now why we’ve been brought here?’

Robert hesitated, rubbing his palms together where the condensation on the chilled glass had dampened them. ‘Does it matter?’ he asked briefly. ‘I can assure you my motives were purely unselfish ones.’

‘What sam I supposed to gather from that remark?’

‘What I say. My mother is incapable of accommodating you. Naturally as Michael’s widow you are welcome here.’

‘You don’t sound very welcoming.’ Julie sipped her drink to hide her nervousness.

‘Don’t I?’ Robert made an indifferent gesture. ‘I’m sorry.’

‘You’re not sorry at all!’ Julie burst out, and then regretted it. Taking another trembling breath, she hastened on: ‘What I can’t understand is why your mother should have written and offered Emma and me a home now that – now that she’s alone, and not really mean it.’

‘Would you have come if you’d known it was I who was offering you a home?’ inquired Robert coldly.

Julie pressed her lips together. ‘Of course not.’

‘There you are, then.’ Robert turned away to get his own drink and Julie gave a helpless gasp.

‘You mean I was brought here under false pretences?’

‘Stop being dramatic, Julie. It was necessary that you should be brought back here. This was the only way.’

Julie was indignant. ‘But why was it necessary? I – your mother never wanted me when – when Michael was alive. Why should she want me now that Michael is dead?’

Robert swallowed half his whisky at a gulp and then looked at her again. ‘My mother is changing for dinner. We don’t have much time. I want you to tell me what happened – before she comes back.’

‘About Michael’s death, you mean?’

‘Naturally.’

Julie bent her head. ‘Why naturally? You haven’t shown much interest up until now.’

Robert uttered an expletive. ‘I don’t want to waste time arguing with you, Julie. Just tell me the facts. I could hardly discuss this in front of Emma, could I? And my mother’s too emotional about it for us to have a coherent conversation in front of her.’

Julie looked up indignantly. ‘And I’m not emotional, of course. He – he was my husband, that’s all!’

Robert reached for a cigar from a box on a low table, lighting it with suppressed violence. She could see it in the hardening of his facial muscles, in the grim way his teeth held the cigar, in the impatient flick of the table lighter.

‘What do you want me to say, Julie?’ he asked, straightening. ‘Do you want to hear platitudes from me? I think not. We’d both know they were not sincere. But I did love my brother, whatever you may think, and I want to know about his death. Now – will you tell me?’

Julie turned her back on him. She couldn’t bear to look at him while she spoke about something that was still painful to her.

‘You – you had the doctor’s reports,’ she said tightly. ‘You didn’t come to see him.’

‘No. A fact I bitterly regret.’ His voice was harsh.

‘Do you?’ Julie sounded sceptical, but she didn’t pursue it. ‘Well, I don’t know what more you want to hear. I didn’t know about the first attack, if that’s of any interest to you. Michael forced the doctor to keep the truth to himself. I thought he was overworked, tired. I never suspected the heat was affecting his heart. He had put on weight, of course. He drank quite a lot, but then so did everybody. In any event, I don’t believe Michael took it really seriously himself. But when the second attack came, so soon after the first, he hadn’t the strength to fight it …’ She broke off, fighting back the emotionalism that threatened to overwhelm her. Michael had been such a young man, a good man; he had not deserved to die.

‘I see.’ She heard Robert move and pour himself another drink. ‘Was he in much pain, before he died, I mean?’

Julie shook her head. ‘Oh, no. The drugs they prescribed kept him more or less comatose. Sometimes he didn’t even recognize me. But I think he guessed it was hopeless.’

‘You should have sent for me.’ Robert’s voice was abrupt. ‘You knew I would have come if I had known – if I had guessed—’

Julie looked unseeingly through the slats of the venetian blind. ‘He wouldn’t allow me to send for anybody. I don’t know why. But I couldn’t go against his wishes.’

Robert walked across the width of the lounge to her side. She hadn’t looked round, but she was conscious of him with every fibre of her being. ‘I would have come to the funeral,’ he said shortly. ‘But I was out of the country when your cable arrived. And naturally the burial took place so much more quickly than it would have done here.’

‘Yes.’ Julie finished her drink and moved away from the window. Away from him. ‘Is that all?’

Robert swung round, his expression hardening at the resignation in her voice. ‘Are you so indifferent?’ he muttered.

‘Indifferent!’ Julie put a hand to her throat defensively. ‘My God! You think I’m indifferent?’

‘Well, aren’t you? I can’t see any tears in those limpid green eyes!’

Julie found it difficult to breathe suddenly. ‘That’s a foul thing to say!’

‘Why? Am I mistaken? Are you really the bereft widow?’

Julie stared at him for a long moment, anger strengthening her weakening resolve. ‘How dare you speak to me like that!’ she demanded fiercely. ‘I didn’t ask to come here! I didn’t ask to be patronized by the powerful Pemberton family! I want nothing from any of you – you, least of all!’

Robert’s face paled slightly under his tan and she realized that for once she had succeeded in really getting under his skin. ‘That’s right, Julie,’ he snarled. ‘Show your true colours! Show what a selfish coarse little bitch you really are!’

Julie took a step forward. She wanted to slap that sneering violence from his face once and for all. But even as she moved the door opened to admit Lucy Pemberton.

Lucy was wearing a long black gown of heavy silk, several strings of pearls about her still youthful throat. For all she was almost sixty, life had aged her little, and looking at her now Julie found it hard to believe that she had not been well enough to come to the airport to meet them.

But it was no use harbouring grudges. In a few days, a week at the most, she would find somewhere for herself and Emma to live, and then she would be free of the Pemberton family for good.

‘Hello,’ said Lucy, when she saw them both. ‘You’re still here, Robert?’ Was that a note of reproof in her voice? ‘I thought your appointment was for seven-thirty. It’s gone that already, you know.’

Robert stubbed out the cigar he had been smoking and dropped it carelessly into the ashtray. ‘There’s no hurry, Mother,’ he remarked, in complete control of himself again.

‘I’m not sure Pamela would agree with you, darling.’ There was definitely a note of reproof now, and a brief dismissing glance in Julie’s direction. ‘You must meet Pamela, Julie. Pamela Hillingdon. You may have heard of the family. She and Robert are getting married in the spring.’

Julie managed to appear unmoved by this news. ‘Really,’ she said evenly. ‘But I doubt whether I’ll ever have that opportunity. She and I no doubt move in different circles.’

Robert had been reaching for the handle of the door, but at her words he turned abruptly to face her, his eyes narrowing. ‘I don’t understand what you mean, Julie,’ he stated flatly, and his mother drew her brows together in delicate bewilderment.

‘You’re not going to be difficult, Julie, I hope,’ she exclaimed, and received a quelling glance from her son which Julie found hard to comprehend.

‘Well?’ Robert demanded. ‘Exactly what are you saying, Julie?’

Julie felt her cheeks colouring in spite of her determination to stay cool. ‘Surely it’s obvious,’ she stated steadily. ‘I – well – Emma and I can’t live here. Within the next few days, I intend to look around for a job and somewhere for Emma and myself to live—’

‘What?’ Lucy put a trembling hand to her temples and sank down weakly into the nearest chair. ‘Oh, Julie, you can’t be serious!’

‘It doesn’t matter whether she is or otherwise,’ snapped Robert obliquely. ‘She hasn’t yet been informed of the facts of the case.’

‘What facts?’ Julie pressed her palms together apprehensively.

Lucy looked up at her son. ‘You didn’t tell her?’

‘I didn’t get the chance.’ Robert raked a hand through the thick darkness of his hair. When he was disturbed as he was now it was painfully easy to remember the last confrontation she had had with him, and Julie bent her head to avoid the cold brilliance of those grey eyes.

‘Will you please tell me what I’m supposed to be told?’ Julie wondered how long her legs would continue to support her. ‘Is there some reason why I should not be permitted to do as I like?’ She looked up suddenly, her eyes guarded. ‘Because if there is, I shall fight it.’

‘Oh, Julie, please.’ Lucy fanned herself with one hand. ‘Don’t be difficult! We only want to do what’s best for – for you, and for Emma.’

Robert flicked back his cuff and glanced at the broad gold watch on his wrist and Julie stiffened. ‘Don’t let me keep you from your appointment,’ she exclaimed. ‘Just say what you have to say and go!’

Robert’s eyes glittered. She knew that had they been alone there would have been things said which they might both have regretted later, although she doubted that Robert ever did anything he might regret.

‘Michael left a will,’ he said at last.

‘I know that. He left his shares in the company to the family. So what? I don’t need anything—’

‘Don’t talk rubbish!’ Robert lost control for a moment and turning away he poured himself another drink, swallowing half of it while his mother clicked her tongue irritably.

‘Can’t we all keep our tempers?’ she asked, through tight lips.

Robert turned back, the glass in his hand. ‘Very well, I’ll try and be brief. Michael left his shares in the company to the family to be kept in trust for Emma until she’s twenty-one. Until then, she is left in my guardianship.’

‘No!’ The word was torn incredulously from Julie’s lips.

‘Yes,’ said Robert inflexibly. ‘And I shouldn’t advise you to fight that!’

Julie out put a hand, catching the back of a chair to support herself. She couldn’t believe her ears. Michael couldn’t have made such a will. Not knowing … not knowing …

She closed her eyes. She thought she was going to faint and she heard Lucy say: ‘Good heavens, Robert, she’s going to pass out!’ before strong hands she hadn’t the will to shake off were lowering her firmly into a chair. Resting her head against the soft upholstery the feeling of faintness receded, and she opened her eyes again to find Robert about to put a glass of some amber liquid into her hand.

‘Drink this,’ he advised. ‘It will make you feel better.’

Julie’s breathing was short and constricted. ‘Nothing will make me feel better,’ she retorted childishly. ‘Take it away!’

Robert ignored her, pressing the glass into her hand so that she was forced to take it or spill it over her dress. ‘Don’t be foolish!’ he said coldly, straightening.

Julie looked at the glass unseeingly. She was trembling violently, and her mind was running round in circles trying to dismiss what had just been said as impossible.

‘You must go, Robert.’ Lucy was looking quite agitated now. ‘I can handle this.’

‘Can you?’ Robert looked sceptical.

‘Of course. Julie must be made to understand her position. As Michael’s widow—’

‘Oh, stop talking about me as though I wasn’t here!’ cried Julie, struggling up in her seat.

Robert looked at her dispassionately. ‘Well?’ he said. ‘Are you prepared to discuss this reasonably?’

‘Reasonably? Reasonably? How can I be reasonable? Emma’s my child—’

‘But my responsibility,’ inserted Robert.

Julie shook her head helplessly. ‘Why would Michael do such a thing to me?’ she asked brokenly.

‘Don’t be maudlin,’ Lucy Pemberton was impatient. ‘My son had the sense to realize that should anything happen to him, the person most suited to bringing up his child should be his own brother.’

‘But I’m her mother!’ Julie protested.

‘Yes. And without us, what could you give her?’ Lucy sniffed. ‘You never had anything—’

‘Money’s not everything!’ cried Julie, gripping the arm of her chair with her free hand.

‘I didn’t mention money.’

‘No, but that’s what you meant, didn’t you?’

‘There are other – qualities—’

‘What do you mean?’ Julie caught her breath.

‘Oh, for God’s sake!’ Robert ran a hand round the back of his neck, smoothing the hair that brushed his collar. ‘Let’s stop this arguing! It doesn’t matter for what reason Michael made his decision. The decision’s made now, and we must make the best of it.’

Julie thrust the untouched glass of brandy on to a side table. The smell had been enough for her. Then she got unsteadily to her feet. ‘I don’t want to make the best of it,’ she said. ‘I suppose that was why you wrote asking me to come here, wasn’t it?’ She was looking at Lucy now. ‘You knew if you told me the truth I might not agree.’

Robert heaved a sigh. ‘It might be true to say that my mother wrote to you to make things easier for you, but regardless of whether you like it or not, the will stands and will be adhered to whatever the circumstances.’

Julie swallowed hard. ‘I could contest it.’

‘You could,’ Robert agreed dryly. ‘But as my brother also states that you shall be cared for, too, I hardly think any lawyer would take the case.’ He made an impatient gesture. ‘What have you to contest?’

Julie moved her head slowly from side to side. ‘There – there must be ways,’ she said unsteadily. ‘I – I can’t be forced to live here.’

‘Agreed. You can live where you like. But if you want to remain with Emma, then you’ll have to do what I want you to do.’

‘Which is?’ Julie’s lip curled.

‘Remain here until the house I’ve bought in the country is prepared, and then live there, with Emma, and with a young governess I’ve already employed for her.’

Julie was aghast. ‘You mean – you mean you’ve already bought this house – employed this woman – all on the strength of my agreement?’

Robert shook his head. ‘On the strength of Michael’s will, Julie.’

‘And – and you? You’re getting married soon. How – how can you care for Emma?’

‘Until my marriage, I intend to spend most week-ends with her. Afterwards, no doubt some arrangement for week-ends or holidays can be arranged. I’m not unreasonable, Julie. You’ll still have your daughter.’

Julie uttered an angry cry. ‘When you say so! Is that it? And what if this fiancée of yours, this – this Pamela – doesn’t care for the idea?’

‘Pamela already knows of Robert’s commitment,’ stated Lucy complacently. ‘Really, Julie, I do think you’re behaving very ungratefully. One would imagine Robert was about to kidnap Emma and prevent you from having any kind of access. I think he’s being most generous.’

Julie shook her head. She was helpless in the face of their calm detachment, and an awful feeling of despair was gripping her heart. She was tied, tied hand and foot, and Michael was responsible. But why? Why had he done this? Surely he of all people must have known she could not bear to feel beholden to Robert …

Suddenly the telephone began to ring. The shrill sound was startling in the silence which had fallen. Robert hesitated a moment, and then walked swiftly across the room and lifted the receiver.

‘Yes?’ he said abruptly, and then his expression relaxed. ‘Oh, hello, Pamela. Yes, yes, I know. I’m sorry. Something came up. They’ve arrived, yes. I know – I know – I’ll be leaving shortly.’

Julie turned away, and as she did so Halbird came into the room from the direction of the kitchen, an enormous white apron covering his dark trousers and waistcoat.

Seeing that Robert was using the telephone, he addressed himself to Lucy. ‘Dinner is ready, madam. Shall I begin to serve?’

Lucy got regally out of her chair. ‘Thank you, Halbird. We’ll be through in five minutes.’

‘Yes, madam.’ Halbird withdrew again and Lucy looked resignedly at her daughter-in-law.

‘You’ll have gathered that Robert is dining out this evening,’ she said, in an undertone. ‘I hope we can have dinner without any further melodramatics.’

Julie stared at her. ‘This was what you wanted, wasn’t it?’ she demanded heatedly. ‘You never wanted me to marry – Michael, and now you’re determined to control Emma’s life, too.’

‘Just as you were determined to marry into this family,’ snapped Lucy, all vestige of tolerance disappearing. ‘You couldn’t have Robert, so you made do with Michael!’

Julie’s lips parted on a gasp of horror, and then without another word she brushed past her mother-in-law and opening the panelled doors left the room.

In the comparative peace of her own room she stood in the centre of the floor fighting for control. This would not do. She would achieve nothing by being emotional. She needed time. Time to think this out; to adjust to her new circumstances; to endeavour to salvage something from the wreckage of her hopes for the future. By behaving foolishly now she could destroy any chance of herself and Emma leading a normal life.

She looked down at her hands. The palms were damp, and there was a film of sweat on her forehead. The thought of food, of sitting down at a table with Lucy Pemberton was intolerable right now, and on impulse she unzipped her dress and was about to step out of it preparatory to taking a cooling shower when the door of her room opened without warning and Robert stood on the threshold glaring at her.

‘What the hell do you think you’re doing?’ he bit out savagely. ‘Halbird is waiting to serve dinner, and I’ve got to go out.’

Julie held the two sides of her gown together behind her back, aware that his painful scrutiny missed little. ‘I’m not stopping anything,’ she said. ‘Let your mother have her dinner. I couldn’t eat a thing.’

‘For God’s sake, Julie, be reasonable!’ Robert cupped the back of his neck with his hands as though it ached. ‘I’m trying to be patient. Now, I’m asking you – not telling you, or commanding you, but asking you to go and eat dinner with my mother and try and behave as though none of this had ever happened.’

Julie’s long dark lashes glittered with unshed tears. ‘You’ve got to be joking!’ she choked.

‘But don’t you see? It need not have happened this way. If you’d only been prepared to accept—’

‘Your charity, Robert?’ She held up her head. ‘No, thanks, I could never accept that.’

‘Then in God’s name, what do you plan to do?’ Robert advanced into the room, half-closed the door, and then opened it again as though having second thoughts.

Julie stood her ground. She would not allow him to intimidate her. She must not. ‘I – I don’t know yet. Maybe I’ll have to accept your plans for Emma, but I – I don’t intend to remain dependent upon you.’

Robert frowned. ‘What will you do?’

‘I’ll get a job. If you’ve employed a governess for Emma, my presence is going to be incidental for most, or at least part, of the day. What do you expect me to do, Robert? Twiddle my thumbs?’

‘I expect you to behave as the widow of Michael Pemberton should behave – with respect, and decorum.’ Robert’s gaze raked her. ‘What have you done all these years in Malaya? How did you fill your days?’

Julie moved uncomfortably. ‘That was different. I – I had a home. A husband and family to care for.’ She turned aside, unable to bear the penetration of those grey eyes, unknowingly revealing to him the vulnerable nape of her neck, and the pale tan of the skin of her back where her dress was unfastened.

‘You still have a family,’ muttered Robert harshly. Then more huskily: ‘God, Julie, why are you so thin? How long is it since you had a good meal?’

Julie realized her state of undress with some embarrassment and turned to him abruptly. ‘Will you please go away and leave me alone? I – I’m tired. I’d like to go to bed.’

‘Julie—’ he was beginning, when there was a sound behind them and looking beyond Robert, Julie saw her mother-in-law standing in the doorway.

‘Robert!’ his mother exclaimed in annoyance. ‘Are you still here? I thought you must have gone. I was just coming to see what Julie – was – doing—’ Her voice slowed as she, too, took in Julie’s appearance. ‘Good heavens, what is going on?’

‘Nothing’s going on!’ snapped Julie, unable to stand any more of this. ‘Will you go? Both of you? I’m not hungry, and I am tired. I just want to be left alone.’

Robert swung on his heel and walked out of the room. ‘I’m leaving now,’ he said to his mother. ‘Good night.’

‘Good night, darling.’ Lucy watched him walk away along the corridor and then as the outer door slammed, she turned back to Julie. ‘I gather you’re not joining me for dinner.’

‘That’s right.’ Julie felt unutterably weary. ‘Is it too much to ask that I should be left alone?’

Lucy made an indifferent movement of her shoulders. ‘Of course not. But don’t think I’m a fool, will you, Julie?’

Julie stared at her. ‘What do you mean?’

Lucy’s gaze dropped down her body insolently. ‘Must I elucidate?’ she queried coldly. ‘Entertaining Robert in that state!’

Julie gasped. ‘I was not entertaining Robert!’ she denied hotly. ‘I – I – he just walked in on me!’

Lucy shook her head slowly. ‘I think not. My son knows better than to walk unannounced into a young woman’s bedroom.’

Julie spread a hand helplessly. ‘Go away,’ she said appealingly, ‘please!’

Lucy hesitated only a moment longer and then she nodded briefly and walked away without speaking again.

Julie almost ran across to the door and slammed it heavily, leaning back against it with trembling limbs. Oh, God, she thought despairingly. How was she ever going to bear it?

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