ACROSS THE LAGOON

Roumelia Lane

Never having been abroad in her life before, Carol was thrilled to land the job of looking after Gray Barrett's teen-age niece for the summer in Venice.

Stephanie, however, turned out to be rather a handful. But still Carol found her easier to deal with than her grim but attractive uncle!

CHAPTER ONE

HORSESHOE COMMON derived its name from the circular road lined with stately houses which enclosed it. Set on a slope, its manicured green lawns and winding paths cascaded down in undulating neatness to the busy shopping parade which ran across the bottom.

In the spring, slender flowering trees were clothed in delicate pink blossom. In the summer and autumn, majestic cedars cast their shade, and luxuriant beeches turned to gold. In the winter the tall pines, high on the slopes, swayed and moaned in the wind.

Carol strolled past the flower-scented enclosure which had been set aside for the blind. She knew every inch of the Common. She had scootered madly down its paths when she was small, and fished for newts and frogs with her brothers and sisters in its silent tree-enshrouded pond. Throughout her nineteen years she had watched it mature into a place of beauty withstanding all attempts by the traffic moguls to obliterate it in favour of roads. For the past three years she had walked through it on her way to work at the big store in town.

But she wasn't going to work today.

She really didn't know quite what had happened to her. She had always thought that she would be content to be a sales assistant for as long as she needed to work. Admittedly it hadn't exactly been a job of her own choosing. At sixteen she had had no idea what she wanted to do. At a loss, her mother had taken her along for an interview with the careers advice officer at school.

Carol had mentioned timidly that she liked painting. The school officer, a severe woman with a chilly manner, had examined her art work and told her that though it had merit she would undoubtedly have difficulty in competing with others who excelled in that field.

Carol had grasped at sewing as a second choice. She « had always considered herself handy with a needle. However, after a critical study of the garments she had made the careers officer was of the opinion that her talents were not outstanding enough to suggest a vocation in the fashion world.

Gradually Carol had become stuck for ideas on what interested her. It seemed that though she was passably good at everything, she shone with no particular brilliance at anything. At the end of the half-hour interview the careers officer's only optimistic suggestion was to take a job selling lampshades in a local store.

Because there seemed little else she could do, Carol had accepted her advice. She had been selling lampshades ever since; tall ones, short ones, flowered ones, plain ones. On rainy days and sunny days she had greeted the customers with a smile and wandered with them while they pondered over bright puce fringes, figured parchment and tinkling chandeliers.

Then just a week ago, for no reason that she could think of, she suddenly decided that she hated the sight of lampshades. Before she could give herself time to ponder about it she had gone and given her notice. She had spent all week quivering over this monumental step she had taken. But on the last day she had walked out of the store without looking back.

Now on this June afternoon she strolled, soaking up a little guiltily this strange sense of freedom.

Of course it was bound to be short-lived. She couldn't afford to be out of work for long. As a matter of fact she was on her way right now to the newsagents at the bottom of the Common to see what the afternoon paper had to offer in the way of jobs.

Clad casually in cotton skirt and blouse, she moved with a. swing, the light of eager expectation in her blue eyes. There was something exciting about looking for a new job, especially when you were searching for something out of the ordinary. All sorts of things were possible, and at the moment she had the whole world at her feet.

She passed picnickers on the green slopes, and mothers giving their babies an airing along the paths. Everything had a special sparkle about it today. She had never had time to notice before how melodiously the birds sang.

Down at the opening on to the roadside everything was lost in a barrage of sound. Bournemouth, being a sizeable town, had its share of thundering traffic. Cars were swerving by now on the curving route uphill from the centre of town.

Carol crossed by the traffic lights and went into the paper shop displaying all the latest magazines. It was only a little after two o'clock. In her eagerness she realised she had arrived too early. However, while she was hanging about, a yellow newspaper van jerked to a stop outside and the afternoon editions were brought in and dropped with a thud on the counter.

She had to wait until the elderly man next to her was served with a plug of tobacco, a bundle of pipe cleaners and a box of matches. Then the string tied round the wad of newspapers had to be cut. At last she paid her money and was handed the first one off the pile. She told herself that she would wait until she got back home before scanning the Situations Vacant columns. But the suspense was too much. Once she had crossed back into the Common she found a seat and quickly opened the paper.

The hope shining in her eyes began to fade as she flicked down the columns. Gradually it disappeared altogether. At the end of the page it had been replaced by disillusionment. There were any amount of jobs to be had if she wanted to be a cook, a kitchenmaid, a dishwasher or a waitress. There was also someone needed to walk a pair of Afghan hounds daily, someone to baby-sit with a Siamese cat, and endless openings for sales assistants, presumably in some cases for the purpose of selling lampshades.

Wryly Carol folded the paper. She had no idea what she was looking for. She knew only that there was nothing in the columns of print to excite her fancy.

Oh well, it was only Monday. There wasn't all that much rush. She could afford to spend a whole week making up her mind. Tomorrow the Situations Vacant advertisements might have brightened up considerably.

With a feeling of anti-climax she rose and made her way back up the path through the Common and out of the gate at the top.

Newberry Avenue, one of the roads that led off from Horseshoe Common, was lined with big old-fashioned houses, mainly Victorian in design. All of them ugly, with unnecessary towers, gables and ornamentation, they stood in sizeable gardens, their gaunt angles and huge glass conservatories softened by the surrounding trees.

Carol lived in the fourth house along, number fifteen. Her mother had been born there and could remember the time when servants had bustled about the rooms and gardeners had worked in the grounds. Now with a growing family of her own she found that things had changed. Though she had children enough to fill the rooms of the big house she and Carol's father had been compelled to let some of them off, mainly on the upper floors, to keep up with the high cost of living.

Carol had never had any complaints. She had romped about the ugly old house with her younger brothers and sisters, hiding in the turret rooms and sliding down the curving banister. In summer the garden was always a delight. They climbed every tree in sight and helped with the work amongst the lanes of growing things. There were ripe strawberries to be picked, green gooseberries, blackcurrants, raspberries and shiny golden apples. Here, secure in the midst of a boisterous family, she had known only happy days. That was why it seemed odd that during the last few weeks she had experienced this peculiar restless feeling.

She turned in at the short curve of drive now and cast her gaze over the house. It was difficult to put her finger on what the trouble was. All she knew was that her present way of life seemed no longer enough. She wanted something more—but what, she couldn't have told anyone. The only answer seemed to be to look for something different in the way of work.

She opened the front door which was part of the glass conservatory. From here a small hall, where the stairs curved upwards, led to a longer one at right angles. At one end was the family apartment.

She went into the large front room, with its mixture of old and modern furnishings, and flopped down into an armchair. She had the place to herself. Her mother, not too happy about her giving up her job, had taken the week's wash to the launderette. The rest of the family were either at work or at school. No one stirred in the rented rooms.

Carol gave a sigh and stared around at nothing in particular. It was quite warm outside. She supposed she could take a deck chair and sit in the garden, only she didn't feel like it. She didn't feel like doing anything. This was her first day off work and already she was at a loose end.

She shot a baleful look at the rolled-up newspaper which she had tossed on to the small table beside her, blaming it completely for her frustrations. She had pinned all her hopes on it to get her out of a rut. Instead it was having the opposite effect. What if she was stuck with the same choice of mundane jobs all week?

She was about to drag her depressed glance away when something caught her eye. She hadn't bothered to rearrange the paper after she had read the job advertisements. She had simply made a baton of it in her hand. Now as it lay on the table a short column headed Personal was turned uppermost. It had never occurred to her to look here for her requirements. She wouldn't have done so now, but a block in heavy type, with the - words Venetian Riviera clearly discernible, danced before her eyes, boldly, tantalisingly, as though asking to be read.

Curiously she drew the paper towards her. Her heart began to beat a little faster as she took in the whole of the printed request.

Wanted, responsible person to supervise fifteen-year-old schoolgirl on Venetian Riviera for duration of summer vacation. Ring Lyndhurst 34044.

Pulses thumping, Carol swallowed uncertainly. She had wanted a job out of the ordinary. Now that one stared her in the face she didn't know whether she dared apply for it or not. She had never been out of England in her life.

But that wasn't to say she wouldn't have gone if she had been given the opportunity. Nervously she rose, excitement mounting within her. Wasn't this her chance to do something different? And what was the point of throwing up her job if she was going to turn coward when it came to the crunch? She might just as well go back to the store in the morning. And anyway, a phone call wouldn't hurt.

Bolstering her timidity with the thought that she could always change her mind if she wanted to, yet at the same time spurred on by dazzling visions of foreign places, she picked up the paper and went out.

In a little alcove at the far end of the hall the phone box was practically indistinguishable amongst a clutter of coats, caps, school scarves and general outdoor garments piled on the hooks. Carol had to move softly. Mrs Ritz who lived in the end room didn't like disturbances around her door.

She fumbled for a coin in her skirt pocket and referring to the newspaper beside her she dialled the number carefully. She listened to the purring tones signalling that she was through, the blood pounding in her head. Then suddenly the receiver was lifted with a click and a woman's voice came on to the line.

Carol, her nerves tuned for the sound, blurted out all at once her reason for ringing, too tensed up to stop for breath. Before she could finish the woman's voice interrupted with, 'One moment, please.' Carol gulped at the abrupt silence that followed. She couldn't stand the agony of waiting. Panicking, she was wondering wildly whether to slam the phone back on the hook when a crisp voice, its thread of steel acting like the flick of a whip on her crumbling confidence, sounded in the earpiece. 'Good afternoon. My name is Gray Barrett.'

Feeling incredibly cool now that she had to match her tones with his, Carol said levelly, 'Good afternoon, Mr Barrett. I'm calling concerning your advertisement for--'

'Yes, yes, my housekeeper told me,' he cut across her conversation testily and added briskly, 'First of all we'd better have your phone number, Miss ..

'Miss Lindley,' Carol replied promptly. She gave him the number from the phone box and heard him repeat it as he wrote it down. This done, he wasted no time in getting down to business. His attitude sounded to be one of impatience as he told her, 'I've only a few hours to spare for this matter. Briefly the problem is this. My niece's school closes down for the summer at the end of this week. Her parents are in the Middle East and can't do with her out there at the moment, and I've been unable to find anyone locally who can. I'm leaving for Venice next week, so I've had to book a hotel near by on the coast for Stephanie. But obviously she can't stay there on her own.'

'I see,' Carol said with a capable air, though she wasn't at all sure that she did.

'I shall be in the city for the rest of the week,' the voice continued somewhat imperiously, 'so we've got to get this thing sorted out now. You'd better come - along this afternoon. The address is Rowan House just outside the village of Lyndhurst in the New Forest. Do you know it?'

'Yes, I know it,' Carol replied, clutching frantically at memories of family outings ih the area.

'Right. I'll see you in about an hour. There's a train at three o'clock, I believe.' He took his leave with a brisk 'Goodbye' and rang off.

Carol, exploding with dreamy excitement, clapped the phone back on the hook. She had done it I She was on her way! It had all been so easy. A few words on the phone and she had a job. She glanced at her watch. Heavens, three o'clock, he had said, and she had to get to the station.

She took her shoes off and flew along the carpeted hall and up the stairs. She couldn't say she cared for the sound of the man she had spoken to. He seemed a bit of a bear. But from the way he talked, as her employer, she probably wouldn't see much of him.

In her room she threw off her skirt and blouse and washed quickly. In her slip she stood in front of the wardrobe mirror and sighed. Her figure caused her long moments of pondering dissatisfaction. She despaired of her bust, and her hips were practically non-existent. Because she was inclined to be tall she could wear nothing but low-heeled shoes.

However, there was no time to moan about that now. She chose an A-shaped dress in a sober blue colour to give her style and dignity. Then, diving for a suitable pair of shoes and flicking a brush through her hair, she grabbed up her handbag and hurried off.

She was lucky with the buses and got to the station with minutes to spare.

Aboard the Southampton train her mind was full of the conversation which had taken place on the phone.

The embankments scattered with wild flowers, the resplendent pine forests crowding in at the sides, were lost on her as she sat marvelling at her good fortune. A summer in Italy! She couldn't believe that anything as wonderful as that could so easily drop into her lap. She wanted to pinch herself to make sure that she wasn't dreaming.

Ideas for the trip began to tumble around inside her head. Her brother Clive had done a language course at school. She was sure he had an Italian phrase book somewhere. And she had just bought a pair of linen slacks in brilliant lemon which would be just right for the beach.

The train was stopping at every tiny station. She began to grow impatient. At last they slid into Lyndhurst. Leaving the carriage, she stepped out on to the leafy- shaded platform and made for the exit. The little station had a sleepy air about it. In so small a community she guessed that the ticket collector might be able to help her.

'Rowan House? Mr Barrett's residence.' The man gave her a sharp twinkle as he took her ticket. 'Aye. Ye take the road to the left of the Forest Arms,' he pointed across a gravelled car park, 'and turn left again at the bridge. Ye'll see it. It's a big place.'

Carol thanked him and started off. The June sunshine was warm on her head. Walking was pleasant. She passed the village inn with its seats outside and straw-hatted cronies nodding over their beer.

The road soon took her out into the open country. It was several minutes before she came to the old stone bridge where a stream chuckled over sunlit pebbles. She turned left along a lane, flanked by rolling fields and clusters of trees. Occasionally the thatched roof of a cottage showed amongst the greenery, or the white paddock rail of a country house. Every gate was fronted by a grid of steel rollers to keep out the wild ponies of the forest.Looking ahead, Carol slowed down and moved along the lane uncertainly. She had no idea which residence was Rowan House. She might have overshot it some- . where. She was wondering whether to turn back when her eye caught sight of a tall rooftop hidden beyond the swirl of trees in the distance. Taking a chance, she walked on.

On the curve of the lane she found, reading the name on the gate with a sigh of relief, that this was the house she was looking for.

A grey mellow-stoned structure with heavy oak doors under a porticoed entrance, and tall chimney stacks at each end of the sloping roof, it stood back from a crescent of green lawn. From the open imposing gateway a gravelled drive led round to the front of the house and continued on, following the curve of the lawn, to a twin imposing gateway further along the lane.

Carol walked along the drive feeling her confidence slipping away from her. Apart from an expensive- looking car parked opposite the doorway there was no sign of life. The windows, tall and highly polished, were unadorned save for sombre brown drapes at the sides. Much of the exterior was covered in ivy.

It was a beautiful old house, but it had a bleakness about it as though it had nothing left to draw on but its memories.

On the front steps Carol rang the bell and waited with a thudding heart. After a few moments, a grey- haired woman in oatmeal-coloured dress and apron came to the door. Her features were stern, but her eyes had a kindly light.

'Good afternoon,' Carol smiled nervously. 'I'm Carol Lindley. I was on the phone earlier about the job in the paper.'

The woman gestured her in and led her across a chequered hall into a carpeted room sombre with ebony- based Jable lamps, gold-framed pictures and dull-patterned vases.

'I'll go and tell Mr Barrett you're here.' Her head erect with its neat grey bun, the woman went off.

Carol stood and waited listening to the hollow, metallic tick of a grandfather clock in the corner of the hallway. She could see several other rooms across the chequered space, their open doors showing similar ponderous furnishings.

A polished wood stairway at the side led up to a landing which bordered the entire hall. Around it, pale alcoves held art pieces, and standing against the walls carved chests gleamed dully. There was no denying that flooded with sunshine, with the scent of summer breezes dancing through it, the house would have a mellow beauty. But at the moment, closed and silent, it emanated only a gloomy orderliness.

Carol fidgeted in its weighty presence. She was used to family chatter and noise, and rollicking thuds around untidy rooms. The brooding atmosphere began to stretch her nerves. She felt the panic rising within her again. Then a voice was calling from the far end of the hall, 'Mr Barrett will see you now, miss.'

Thankful for any kind of action, Carol jerked to where the aproned figure beckoned her. She was shown into a large room. With thudding heart she felt the door closing behind her. Along with a blurred impression of book-lined walls, oak panelling and leather armchairs she was conscious of a man sitting behind a heavy desk to one side of the room. She couldn't miss the view out of the big uncurtained window opposite, which was one of rolling tree-bordered lawns and blue sky. Near by an old stone fountain sprayed glistening jets of water within a circle of flowers.

The vista was lost on the man at the desk, presumably Gray Barrett, who sat, pen in hand, frowning over papers before him. Because he didn't look up, Carol felt obliged to move into the centre of the room if only to attract his attention. He went on scribbling, casting his glance up only for a second to flick it over her with a curt, 'Miss Lindley, I take it?'

Carol nodded while she searched around for her voice. She needn't have worried. It seemed that nothing - was expected of her—or at least not until several seconds later when the man suddenly looked up again. He fixed her with a sharp eye and rapped, 'Are you the person I spoke to earlier on the phone?'

'That's right,' Carol replied, a resentment growing in her at his brusque manner. Face to face with him she had a full view of his appearance. He had fleshy, rather angular features toned down to what one might call attractiveness by a head of tightly curling dark hair. His brown eyes reminded her of his house, broody and withdrawn.

Glueing them on her now, he threw his pen down as though it was a nuisance to him. She thought she detected exasperation in the movement. He rose to a formidable height, his well-cut suit covering an athletic, if somewhat bulky frame, and came round the side of the desk to rasp at her, 'And you think you could take care of a girl of fifteen in a place like Italy?'

Completely unnerved now by his manner, Carol stood slightly petrified, fighting the pink on her cheeks. She felt like a horse being looked over as he moved around her. His raking gaze taking in her pale straight hair, candid blue eyes and rather thin figure, he commented testily, 'You're little more than a child, yourself.'

This was enough to trigger off Carol's rising indignation. 'I'm going on for twenty,' she retorted spiritedly. 'And I've been used to helping at home with my six younger brothers and sisters.'

'My niece is an only child,' the man said with smug implication as though large families were distasteful to him, 'and as such, she has a way of being different.'

Carol was silenced by his overbearing manner. He took himself back to his desk and sat down heavily, the scowl -on his face deepening.

'I was depending on you for the job,' he flicked a morose look over her. 'I pictured you with a little more' ... his humourless mouth sloped grimly as he searched for the right word ... 'maturity.'

Annoyed at the way he was blaming her for everything, Carol was stung to reply, 'I wonder you didn't ask my age over the phone 1'

'I was relying on your judgement of your capabilities,' he snapped. 'I haven't time to do other people's thinking for them.'

Carol braved his displeasure to persist pertly, 'I think I'm capable of looking after your niece.'

He looked at her long and darkly, then swivelling impatiently in his chair he fired his verdict at her. 'Well, quite frankly, I don't. As a chaperone for my niece, you'd only add to my problems.'

Carol heard his words with no surprise. He had made no secret of his disappointment from the moment he had set eyes on her. She couldn't say she was sorry to be saying goodbye to the idea of haying him for a boss.

'It was a last gamble, trying the local paper for one afternoon,' he said grouchily, picking up his pen. 'As I've no more time to waste on the matter I shall have to make do with my housekeeper.' He settled down to work again, shooting Carol a glance to add finally, 'I will of course be glad to refund your train fare.'

'Please don't bother,' Carol said, her cheeks reddening haughtily. 'I'm not that hard up.'

'Very well,' he dismissed her with a nod towards the door, 'Mrs Vernon will show you out.'

Carol turned away. Her legs trembled beneath her as she made her way out of the room. The housekeeper was on hand to show her to the front door. Once out on the drive she wasted no time in putting as much distance as she could between herself and Rowan House.

Well! Her cheeks were still on fire and her eyes had an embarrassed brilliance about them as she gazed blindly ahead. She wouldn't want to go through that again! What an awful man! She could consider herself lucky that he hadn't accepted her for the job. There was no telling what she might have let herself in for if she had allowed herself to come under his iron hand.

And imagine! Dragging her all the way out here, then calmly telling her she was too young for the job 1 Just because he was busy, she was supposed to know that he wanted someone at least a hundred years old!

She fumed all the way to the station, but once on the train, amidst crested-blazered schoolchildren bouncing around the seats and flicking rulers at one another, she resolved smartirigly to put all thoughts of the detestable man out of her mind. She hoped his summer in Venice would be a wet one, that he would trip up into a canal or something. And she never wanted to hear the name Gray Barrett again.

From the station she caught the bus into town. Walking up the side of the Common she saw her two young sisters tugging at a toy handcart up the path between the lawns. 'Hey, Carol!' they called, waving vigorously. 'Come and give us a pull!'

'Not just now,' she smiled good-humouredly. 'I want to get home.'

When she arrived her mother was hoovering the hall carpet. A duster round her head, her harassed though good-natured features dark with concentration, she looked up to shout over the din, 'How did the job- hunting go? I saw the paper by the phone.'

'Oh, it was nothing much,' Carol called off-handedly. 'The man thought I was too young for the post.'

'You'll have that trouble wherever you go.' Her mother switched off the electric current and set her lips knowingly. 'Seems to me there's nothing wrong with being a salesgirl.'

'I have a feeling that's what I'll be doing again— being a salesgirl,' Carol said wryly. 'That's about all the towns got to offer.' She didn't say that this afternoon's ordeal had somewhat soured her ambitions to look for something out of the ordinary. She had no wish to repeat the experience. Comparing the gloom of Rowan House with her own bright sunny world since stepping off the bus, she had, still nursing her bruised feelings, quickly given up the idea of trying to get out of her rut. If anything now, she was grateful for it. After what she had been through at the hands of a certain despotic would-be employer, the job of selling lampshades seemed blissfully safe and uncomplicated. She was thankful, almost relieved, to have something like this to return to.

'They're paying good wages at Rankworths,' she said, going up the stairs. 'I'll probably take the rest of the week off, then start there on Monday.'

'I think that would be very sensible.' Her mother returned to her work with prim approval.

Upstairs in her room Carol tossed her handbag on the bed and flopped down beside it to gaze at the sun- washed ceiling. Life wasn't too bad, when she thought about it. Her new salesgirl job would pay more money for her holiday with the family in September. And on top of that she had a whole week now to do as she liked. The weather was good. She could go to the beach every day if she wanted to. Feeling light as air again, she changed into old slacks and tee-shirt and went to join her sisters on the Common.

The next morning she packed enough sandwiches for the day and took herself off early to the beach. It was idyllic lazing amongst the holidaymakers pretending she was one of the idle rich.

On Wednesday, on her mother's advice, she went to make sure of a position at Rankworths, the big store in the centre of town. There were no problems. She was experienced and they were crying out for salesgirls to cope with the summer rush. Carol wished she could have felt a little more enthusiasm as she was shown round the huge pillared sections.

The following afternoon she came down to town again to stroll round the shops. Because they all had the same closing hours as her old store there were several that she had never had a chance to browse through. She „ passed a news-stand on her way round the square. She was tempted to buy an afternoon paper and cast a casual peep down the Situations Vacant columns. But she refrained and carried on with her shop-window gazing. Why make problems for herself? She had a perfectly good job to go to. Best leave it at that.

When she got tired of the bustle of town she went to sit in the pleasure gardens, a strip of green parkland, beautified by cascading trees and brilliant flowerbeds. The paths and lawns were alive with holidaymakers. Children sailed their boats in the stream which flowed through to the sea. The strains of gay military music came from the elevated bandstand set amidst tall pines. Carol lay draped in her deckchair, content just to bask in the leisure.

On Friday morning she awoke with the feeling that her freedom was fast slipping away from her. Determined to get the most out of the day, she rose quickly and prepared for the beach. Unfortunately she had to be on hand this afternoon to go for a fitting for her store uniform. All the girls at Rankworths wore tailored brown dresses with the name of the store embroidered on the lapels. It was a nuisance and it was cutting into her holiday, but there was nothing to be done about it. At least if she got a move on she would have a nice long morning. She needn't be back until about two.

The weather was so gorgeous, the sea with the sun warming it such fun to splash in, it was nearer three when she arrived home.

Damp and glowing from her activities, she turned in at the drive. The house stood bathed in the still afternoon warmth, its silence as she approached it making her guiltily aware that she was the only one not occupied with the work of the day.

She found her mother patching sheets on the old treadle machine in the living room. She sat and chatted for a while about the holiday scene at the beach, then went upstairs to change. This was no simple task. First she had to get rid of the sand. It was amazing how it seemed to find its way into everything. It was in her towel and in her beach bag and she could feel the grit of it between her toes and on her skin. In the end she decided it would be quicker to take a bath.

Dried off and smooth-skinned again in fresh underwear, she had just washed the bath out and was drawing her bathrobe about her when the sharp shrill of the telephone pierced the downstairs silence.

'I'll get it,' Carol called to her mother, shooting down alongside the banister. 'It'll be the store telling me my dress is ready.'

Carol was well acquainted with the tones of Miss Witherston, the store supervisor, having listened to her singing the praises of working at Rankworths for a full half hour when she had applied for the job. Hurrying to the phone now, she could just see the stout lisle-stockinged woman tapping her pencil with tight- lipped impatience because no one was answering. She lifted the receiver and waited for the hearty contralto voice to come through.

'Is that Miss Lindley?'

Carol was too confused to give an immediate reply. All poised as she was to answer Miss Witherston's summons to go for a dress fitting, it was several seconds before her befuddled mind could adjust to the fact that it was a man's voice on the line. And there was something familiar about its harsh timbre.

'Ye ... es, this is Miss Lindley speaking,' she managed to get out at last.

'Good. Gray Barrett here.' Before she had time to make any comment he rapped crisply, Tack your things and get on the first train out here. We'll be leaving for Venice on Sunday. Stephanie will have to wait until tomorrow before we can pick her up from school, and you'll have to give her a hand in choosing one or two holiday garments…' The voice faded slightly from the receiver as though he was rooting irritably for something on his desk. Amidst the rustle of papers he added acidly, half to himself, 'My housekeeper has to pick this time of all times to go down with the mumps!'

He came back close to the mouthpiece and at the silence he asked testily, 'Have you got that?'

'Yes, I've got it,' Carol replied mechanically.

'Right. There's a train at six this evening, I believe. I'll see you then. We'll pick Stephanie up on the way to London tomorrow. Don't forget you'll need your passport.' He rang off with a harsh impersonal 'Goodbye' as though hers was only one of a string of phone calls he had to make.

Her pink mouth curling incredulously, Carol hung up, still unable to believe her ears. She couldn't get over the colossal conceit of the man. Without giving her time to open her mouth at her interview he had turned her down flat for the job. Now when he couldn't get anyone else and he was stuck he thought all he had to do was snap his fingers and she would come running.

She flounced along the hall and up the stairs a grim smile on her face. What a hope he had! In her room she jerked about, dropping one job for another. Let him look after his niece himself! That would show him. She swished her hair before the wardrobe mirror. She certainly didn't intend to lower herself to help him out. And anyway, she didn't have a passport.

CHAPTER TWO

The train slid smoothly on its way amidst the pines. Pale shafts of fading sunlight slanted across the carriage lighting up the small neat suitcase which rested on the seat. Carol sat and gazed across at it in a slightly dazed way. She still didn't know what had possessed her to toss her things into it.

Her mother hadn't cared for the idea of her going to Italy. Her father when he came home from work had liked it even less. But she had soothed them both by telling them all about the job and reassuring them that she knew how to look after herself.

Her pulses thumping now as it hit her what she had let herself in for, she turned to stare out of the window. She thought of Miss Witherston and the job she was leaving behind at Rankworths. Curiously enough she felt no remorse.

She was so deeply engaged in reflection, the train pulled into the village of Lyndhurst almost without her noticing it. Hastily she swept her suitcase up and made for the door.

The soft light of evening veiled the countryside as she stepped out on to the platform of the little station. As usual it was deserted, but as she made her way towards the tiny exit, the figure of a man approached her. He was ruggedly tall and well dressed and Carol realised with an acute knotting up of her stomach that it was Gray Barrett.

As he strode up she felt excruciatingly self-conscious in her simple summer dress, her thin arms wrestling with her luggage, her nose a bright pink from her week in the sun.

He took her suitcase from her and flicking his moody brown gaze around and over the slim dressing case she carried, he asked, 'Is this the lot?'

Floundering for an excuse to explain her small wardrobe, Carol stammered, 'I... I had to pack in a hurry*'

He led the way out. At the barrier the ticket collector touched his cap to the big man respectfully. ' 'Night, Mr Barrett.'

'Goodnight, Simms,' Gray Barrett nodded absently, and made his way out to his car.

Carol followed meekly. She had never expected to find him at the station to meet her. As he opened the car door for her and she took a seat at the back she reminded herself cynically that he had a vested interest in her now.

They made the trip to Rowan House in silence. Though Carol tried to give the appearance of gazing dispassionately at the view, she was blazingly conscious of the man seated at the wheel in front of her. It didn't help to know that he was sitting frowning to himself as though he had already forgotten she was there.

They swung into the drive of the beautiful old house and came to a smooth stop outside the front entrance. Carol stepped out. While Gray Barrett was swinging her bags out of the back, she admitted to him nervously, 'I haven't got a passport.' He breathed a sharp sigh of exasperation. She added brightly, 'But I got my photograph taken in a booth at the station.'

"That's a help,' he said sarcastically. And then, 'Where is it? I'll have to tackle the authorities and see if we can get one rushed through.'

Carol had to hand him the washed-out pictures of herself from her handbag. On them she looked pale, lopsided and unreal.

'The door was opened as they turned towards it by a plump little woman in a bright flowered smock. Something in the warm round features struck Carol as being vaguely familiar. Gray Barrett moved inside and spoke. 'This is Miss Lindley, Emily.' He swung the luggage with him. 'She's going to accompany my niece to Italy in your sister's place.'

Mrs Vernon's sister. That explained the likeness.

'How do you do,' Emily recited, a jolly light showing through her attempt at staid politeness.

Carol found her smile less strained in the woman's presence.

'Show her to a room,' Gray Barrett instructed. "We'll have dinner at the usual time.' The passport pictures in his hand, he strode away across the hall.

Carol took her suitcase. Emily reaching for her dressing case seemed to revert with relief to her natural self, once the boss had disappeared. 'Fancy Blanche catching the mumps of all things,' she chattered, chuckling under her breath at the phenomenon, and leading the way upstairs. 'The doctor thinks she picked it up from one of the Johnson children next door to the village shop. Apparently they've all had a dose and the mother hasn't bothered to keep them indoors.'

'I hope she's not feeling too ill?' Carol felt obliged to put in solicitously as they climbed.

'No, she's sitting up today,' Emily nodded a glance along a corridor leading off from the main landing, 'but her face is very swollen, and of course at her age she'll have to take it carefully for a while.'

They went into a room with green bedcovers and draperies and putting the dressing bag down inside, the sunny-faced woman revealed in confiding tones, 'Between you and me she wasn't too keen on the idea of going to Italy, so I don't think she minds this little bit of inconvenience.' With a wink she went to push the green drapes back busily. Then she opened the window a fraction to let in the air.

Feeling the woman's warmth and friendliness wash over her in the strange household, Carol put in conversationally, 'Your sister must be glad to have you on hand to look after her.'

'Me? Oh, I don't live in Lyndhurst.' Emily's jolly features crinkled wryly as though country life didn't appeal to her. 'I've come over from Poole. I run a little caf£ on the quay with my husband and two daughters.' She made a tour of the room flicking at this and that while she talked. 'Blanche is a widow with no family. And Mr Barrett had no one to look after him.' When she had cast a last look round she came up confidingly again to Carol. 'He's very nice, but it will be a relief when he's gone away.' She rolled her eyes at the awesome atmosphere of the house. 'This kind of thing isn't much in my line.'

They smiled together conspiratorially, then reminding herself of her temporary position, Emily asked practically, 'Now do you think you're going to be all right in here? I've picked you a room with a bathroom,' she nodded to an adjoining door, 'and there's a nice view out at the back.'

'Oh, I'm sure I shall,' Carol said gratefully. 'And thank you very much for looking after me.'

The pleasant-faced woman in her bright flowered smock turned to the door, looking back to say with another roll of her eyes, 'I've got to go down now and see about the meal.'

On her own, Carol gazed round the room. It was large and airy, though like downstairs its heavy furnishings were sombre and lacking in something to bring out their rich mellow look. The view from the big cur- tainless window was more rewarding. It showed grassy stretches rolling away to a boundary of leafy oak and chestnut trees.

She turned and pondered over her suitcase. There was no sense in unpacking because presumably she was only staying here for the night. An ache of excitement engulfed her when she thought that tomorrow she would be starting out for Italy. To try and curb it a little she made herself re-fold everything in her case, a little more neatly this time.

This done, she laid her nightgown out, then washed and freshened up in the bathroom. She could think of nothing to do after that to pass the time, but she was too afraid to step out of her room. Everything was so silent. She listened and moved about, slightly on edge. In the end she decided to take the plunge. After all, no one was going to eat her... she hoped.

It was just her luck to sidle out on to the landing at the precise moment that Gray Barrett chose to stride across the square of hall below her. Obviously engrossed with his thoughts as he came out of a downstairs room, his glance, for some reason, flickered upwards. Irritated at being mildly startled by the sight of the pale apparition standing on the stairs, he looked at his watch and barked, "We'll be dining in a moment. You'd better come down.'

Carol nodded obediently and whispered soft-footed down the stairs. The big figure had disappeared by the time she reached the chequered hallway. She had no idea where to go from here. There were rooms all around her and at the far end of the space a passageway led deeper into the house.

Was the dining room along there? she wondered with nervously thudding heart. She was too scared to go and find out. What if she was trespassing in some forbidden area of the house?

Surrounded by doors, wall furniture, dark pictures and china vases, she hung about uncertainly, sneaking a look into this room and that, without appearing to, for some sign of life. She was beginning to lose hope of eating at all tonight, when a voice from the doorway beside her made her jump almost out of her shoes, as Gray Barrett rasped, 'In here, Miss Lindley. Don't take all day. Mrs Potter's waiting to serve.'

Colouring foolishly, Carol turned and followed him inside. The d£cor of the room and furnishings were much the same as the rest of the house except that a long oval polished table, complete with several straight- backed chairs, stood facing a line of french windows in the centre of the room. A doorway at the end, apparently connecting with the rooms along the passageway which she had just caught a glimpse of, was open, and much to her relief, bustling through, a crisp white apron fronting her flowered smock, her round cheeks aglow with cooking, was the cheering sight of Emily.

Her infectious smile was discreetly tucked away behind a suitably wooden expression, but her gaze was not without a sly twinkle as she showed Carol to her place at the end of the table. Gray Barrett was already seated at the far end. Between them lay a sea of polished wood, table mats, and amongst the various silver dishes, a bowl of roses. As this was the first feminine touch she had seen since entering the gloomy house, Carol guessed that the gay centrepiece was Emily's idea.

The rounded little woman served a meal worthy of her role as temporary housekeeper, hurrying in and out with dishes which must have kept her busy for most of the afternoon. Anxious to please, though obviously nervous at the job, her hands trembled a little as she scooped up the vegetables and poured the wine.

Carol kept her gaze sympathetically averted, knowing all too well how she felt. Though the master of the house sat paying little attention to what went on beyond his plate, his mere presence was enough to put a strain on the atmosphere.

But at least Emily could escape when her duties were finished. When the last of the dishes were set out on the table, Carol was left, compelled to sit opposite that rather frightening figure, with no one to give her moral support. She couldn't imagine how she was going to get through the ordeal of eating.

The french windows were open. Luckily the light was fading from the sky so that the room was partly shrouded in shadow. They dined in silence. Carol sat erect in her chair, too afraid to relax, her long straight hair like a pale fringed shawl on her shoulders, her eyes beneath her lowered lashes, wide with tension.

She took a sip of the wine from her glass, finding it strange to her palate when she had been used to only tea or coffee. She noticed with a wave of dislike that Gray Barrett made no attempt to put her at her ease. Just because he was able to withdraw from the scene and retire into himself, he saw no reason why she couldn't do the same. Men were like that, she knew. She had seen her father adopt that shut-down expression when he wanted to be with his own thoughts.

The knowledge that the man opposite her hadn't the remotest idea of her existence didn't make the meal any less agonising for her. When Emily bustled in later with renewed confidence to clear away, Carol took advantage of her presence to make a hasty retreat. Only too glad to put the stairs between herself and the dining room, she fled to her room.

However, after hiding there for twenty minutes or so, she told herself this was ridiculous. It was a beautiful evening and not yet dark. What was the sense of prowling around her gloomy old room? She cast a glance out of her window and bravely made up her mind to go for a stroll in the grounds.

Downstairs the glow of a wall lamp here and there gleamed around the square of hall. As before, she floundered over the layout of the house. It was no use going out of the front door for that only led to the road. She remembered that the french windows in the dining room had been opened showing the grounds at the back.

Quickly she made her way there on tiptoe and peeped inside. The polished table now had a lace runner across its middle doing full justice to the bowl of roses. Around the room the ebony-based table lamps had been switched on.

Carol saw that the french windows were still open and hastily, to get out of the hall, she glided across and outside.

The scene in the gathering twilight was restful and really quite beautiful. Not far away she saw the fountain amidst its border of flowers, which she had caught a glimpse of that first afternoon. Still playing to itself it created a soothing kind of music, deflecting the thoughts from the sombre proximity of the house. Across the lawns stood a giant cedar, its flat sweeping branches silhouetted majestically against the evening sky.

The night breezes were cool, however, and realising that it would be foolish to take a stroll in only her thin sleeveless dress, Carol decided to sneak back to her room for a cardigan. She made the trip without incident. It was just when she was stealing back outside through the dining room that she caught the glimpse of crossed trousered legs, over in a shadowy corner beside a reading lamp. She had been only seconds going to her room. The hot colour rushed to her cheeks when she realised that Gray Barrett must have been sitting there all the time. There were armchairs against the wall. This was probably the room he used for relaxing in. The knowledge made her scuttle for the shadows beyond the french window.

Though she went on her stroll as far as the trees bordering the ground, she took no further interest in her surroundings. Her mind now was far too occupied with the problem of how to get back into the house. It was getting too dark to go searching for another door, and it would be ridiculous to go round to the front and ring the bell. When it became obvious that she couldn't stay out in the grounds all night, she resigned herself reluctantly to the fact that she would have to go back through the dining room.

The glow from the lamps in the room spilled out into the night as she moved noiselessly towards it. She crept up to the french windows. With a bit of luck she could sidle through without being noticed. She got halfway across the room. It looked as though all would go well. Then just as she was about on a level with that shadowy shape in the corner, it came abruptly to life.

Rapping his book down on his knee with an impatient air, making Carol jerk to a terrified stop, Gray Barrett barked testily, 'For heaven's sake! Do you have to keep creeping in and out all the time? I'm trying to read.'

'I... I'm sorry,' Carol stammered, 'I didn't... know you were here.'

With a frown he looked at his watch. 'We'll be starting out early in the morning,' he told her tersely. 'I suggest you get some sleep.'

'Yes,' Carol nodded meekly, and slid out of the room.

She scooted upstairs, only too thankful to reach the sanctuary of her own room. Later, undressed and between the sheets, she lay wide-eyed in the shadows, quivering at the ordeal of the evening, and wondering what on earth had possessed her to take on the job. She listened to the stillness of the house feeling intensely alone.

Her mother and father and brothers and sisters were only a few miles away. She could go to them even now if she wanted to.

With a wry look she punched the pillow. She could just see Mr Gray Barrett's face pull into a sneer when he found out she had fled. He had said that she was too young for the job.

She set her mouth determinedly. Well, she would show him that she had no intention of running home, just because of his bite. She would see this thing through whatever the consequences.

AND ANYWAY, IT MADE A CHANGE FROM SELLING LAMPSHADES, SHE TOLD HERSELF WEAKLY, AS SHE DROPPED OFF TO SLEEP.

CHAPTER THREE

EMILY came in before seven with a breakfast tray. Carol sat up at once. She had been awake since six, her apprehension growing with the light of day.

The cheerful woman could only stay a few moments to give her a message from Mr Barrett. She was to come downstairs as soon as she was ready. He wanted to be on the road by eight. They would have to pick up her passport in London, so there was no time to be lost.

Carol found it difficult to swallow her breakfast. This was due partly to excitement at the prospective journey and partly because she dreaded the moment when she would have to present herself to her churlish employer downstairs.

She ate what she could, then throwing the covers back she stumbled out of bed and hurried to her suitcase. It would be cool this early in the morning, so she laid out a lightweight suit in pale green check, with a plain neat skirt and small bolero-type jacket. When she was ready the white blouse she had chosen seemed to spill out too much at the front and below the three- quarter-length sleeves.

Several times she re-tied the scarf neck in an effort to make a presentable bow. Each one seemed worse than the last. In the end she dropped her aching arms. It would have to do. She had packed and locked her case now, and besides, the time was getting on.

She stood back from the mirror, far from satisfied with her appearance. Her pale hair splayed out on her shoulders about her washed-out features. The suit made her look all arms and legs.

Turning quickly away, she gathered up her bags. If she didn't get a move on she'd find herself in hot water again. She clumped out on to the landing and made her way with her cases downstairs.

The front door was wide open. A cold country- scented breeze wafted gustily around the hall. Carol had just got to the bottom of the stairs when Gray Barrett strode in from outside. He was faultlessly attired in a dark suit, his hair and craggy features glistening with an early morning groomed look.

Tugging the cuffs of his sleeves down as though he had been carrying things out to the car, he flicked his glance towards Carol. Though he was preoccupied as usual, it seemed to her that his brown gaze picked out all her faults as it raked over her.

He reached for her luggage with a businesslike gesture. 'I'll take those,' and swinging it up left her to follow him out to the car. She had just got into the doorway when Emily appeared from behind her. 'Bye- bye, Miss Lindley.' The plump woman patted her arm shyly and gave her a sunny smile. 'I do hope you have a pleasant time.'

'Thank you, Mrs Potter,' Carol smiled over her shakiness, 'I hope your sister will soon be better.'

'I've an idea she will,' Emily said with that conspiratorial twinkle.

Gray Barrett had stowed the bags in the back and was holding the car door open. 'Hop to it, Miss Lindley,' he grated impatiently. 'It's time we were off.'

With a last backward glance, and tearing herself away from the comforting presence of the older woman, Carol hurried to the car. The engine thundered into life. From her seat in the back she waved towards the doorway as they crunched off along the drive.

Out on the road the climbing sun was casting an orange dazzle through the trees. The sky was clear, promising a fine day. Swinging the wheel, the man in front informed her briefly, 'My niece's boarding school is at Shawford on the way to Winchester. We should be there in just over an hour.'This said, he settled down to driving, flexing his shoulders in such a way as to create a wall between himself and the seats behind. Carol recognised the gesture all too well, but it didn't worry her. She found it a relief to pretend that the car was driving itself.

Besides, now that they were really on their way, the excitement at the thought of seeing new places began to take a hold on her. Though there was little to choose between her present morose employer and that which she had escaped in the indefatigable Miss Witherston, this at least was better than being cooped up in a store all day.

Her spirits rose as she resolved to get the best possible enjoyment out of the drive. Well, why not? It was a beautiful day, and her work hadn't started yet. Ignoring the dark head and thickset frame in front of her, she turned to the window and gave herself up to the view.

There were all sorts of fascinating things to be seen. Though she was familiar enough with the setting having spent many a Sunday with the family, picnicking in the New Forest, she never tired of its restful beauty; of the wild ponies munching negligently at the roadside, of the lovely old thatched cottages, flowers spilling out of painted wheelbarrows and old-fashioned handcarts in the gardens.

Leaving Lyndhurst behind, they drove past riding schools with their white paddock-railed enclosures and performing rings, and through hamlets and villages, some with amusing names like, Woodley Goose, Dunces Arch and Tiddlesdale.

On towards Southampton the greenery began to disappear. Housing estates could be seen in the distance. Skirting the city with its maze of narrow streets and shunning traffic was a tedious business. Further on there was the industrial town of Eastleigh which was even more depressing. But after this the country opened out again to reveal hawthorn hedges sprinkled with white blossom and little square-topped churches in the distance.-*

When Carol saw the signpost for Shawford coming up she was surprised at how the time had passed.

The school stood on the outskirts of the small town. A group of ivy-covered, dignified old buildings with tall church-like windows, stone terraces and quadrangles, it was set amongst green stretches and masked by trees. They drove through the open gates and along a winding drive, drawing in at the bottom of a flight of wide stone steps which were decorated by a pair of ornamental urns.

Applying the brakes, Gray Barrett opened his door and climbed out. He cast a glance to where Carol was sitting uncertainly in the back and said crisply, 'You'd better come along too.' He left her to make her own way out so that she was some way behind him as he went up the steps.

He couldn't have been visible across the open space at the top for more than a second when a shadowy figure appeared from the cloisters opposite and came running across the quadrangle towards him. Fleet of foot, dark hair flying, the girl's small piquant features were lit up as she arrived with a breathless, 'Gosh, I thought you were never coming! Everyone else has gone.'

Gray Barrett's reply was a little clipped as he told her with a shrug of his shoulders, 'I'm a busy man, Stephanie. I've had things to do.' As they stood he turned to where Carol was coming up behind and bridging the silence he went on, 'This is Miss Lindley. She will be your companion during your stay in Italy.'

The light went out of the small face. Carol found herself being raked coldly by a pair of brown eyes which reminded her of her employer's. In turn she saw a slender girl with an almost fully developed figure beneath the school uniform. Her slightly waving hair, which she wore drawn back from her face by a broad headband, had a lustrous sheen about it. Her smooth complexion was inclining towards an olive glow. With that wide smile, glimpsed briefly a few seconds ago, showing perfect white teeth, there was no doubt that in a few years'

time Stephanie would be a beauty.

Carol felt colourless and wraith-like beside her. Awkwardly she searched for a smile and forced out a* friendly, 'Hello.'

'Hello.' The reply was polite but nothing more. Drowning in shyness, Carol was saved from the strain of the moment by the appearance of another figure coming across the space. A smart woman with a beautiful hair-do and a tailored dress, she could only have been the headmistress.

'Mr Barrett! How good to see you.' She came smilingly forward.

Gray Barrett acknowledged her with a nod and went to shake her outstretched hand. They stood and talked for a while, then turned and walked back across the quadrangle.

Carol hung about feeling intensely awkward again. Though she was Stephanie's senior by four years, she felt infinitely more gauche. Telling herself that this wouldn't do at all, she made an attempt to appear in control of the situation by suggesting with a practical smile, 'I suppose we ought to wait by the car.'

'I expect so,' Stephanie said docilely enough. They strolled as far as the steps where the younger girl stopped to run a finger with studied casualness around one of the old stone urns. The childish gesture made Carol feel a little more sure of herself. Realising that it was up to her to try and break the ice between them, she paused beside the other stone urn and queried pleasantly, 'Are you looking forward to spending the summer in Italy?'

Stephanie shrugged. 'Make a change from this old dump,' she replied offhandedly.

The indelicacy of the remark put Carol off her stroke a little. But it wasn't entirely unexpected. She could still remember her own schooldays. Pushing on, she commented chattily, 'I expect you'll be seeing your parents when you come back?'

Stephanie turned and said, giving her a straight look, 'They haven't been to England for five years.'

Aware that she had hit rocky ground again, Carol kept her smile and continued easily, 'But you've been out to them on and off, I expect?'

'Nope!' Stephanie tossed her head. There was a brittle gleam in her eyes as though she was challenging comment.

Carol had more sense than to make any. She recognised quickly that she had stumbled on to the wrong subject altogether with which to open up a conversation. While she was trying to appear only lightly touched by the tense atmosphere, the young girl whirled herself round and down the steps as though being purposefully mocking. Coming to rest in a sitting position on the sloping wall, she proceeded to count off on her fingers, a bitter edge to her flippant tones, 'Five summers ago I went with Janey Bennett's family to Cyprus. The one after that Heather Hawkins' parents took me on their yacht with them. I went with them again the following summer, round the Greek islands. Then Anne Penny's married sister let me stay in their flat with them in Gibraltar. That was last year. But she said she was too busy to have me this year.' Stephanie lifted her slim shoulders in a gesture of light-hearted resignation, but her voice quavered under the weight of forced humour. 'I'm running out of farming-out accommodation.'

Swinging her gaze round, she shot a look at Carol. And then as though she realised she might have hinted too much, she rose to say quickly, 'Mind you, if Mummy and Daddy weren't so busy, I expect they'd have me out there like a shot. It's just that... well, they're so busy all the time.'

'Of course.' Carol made a show of being completely understanding. Then she turned to admire the view. Though she adopted a carefree pose, her heart went out to the younger girl. It couldn't be much fun for her being separated from her parents like this; abandoned to the impersonal life of a boarding school all year, waiting each summer for someone to come and pick- her up. It was easy to see she was a lonely child. And there had been no loving embrace for her uncle.

Thinking about it made Carol feel almost ashamed of her own closely knit family.

There was no time for further conjecture, however, for hearing voices she turned to see the two figures reappearing within the shadowy cloisters. Gray Barrett was shaking the headmistress's hand again. He bent to pick up the suitcases near by. Then after a last nod to her wave of farewell, he made his way across the quadrangle towards the steps.

Knowing only relief after Stephanie's rather frank outburst just now, Carol led the way down the steps to the car. The two girls sat in the back. Gray Barrett stowed his niece's cases in the boot, then he took his seat behind the driving wheel again. Without a backward glance at the rear seats he started up, and they were soon leaving the school grounds behind.

Carol sat keyed up at the atmosphere inside the car. She wasn't sure whether she was supposed to try and engage her young charge in conversation or not. Stephanie, showing no signs of her bitter mood or earlier, seemed content to sit and stare out at the scenery. In the end, Carol decided to do the same.

The hedges and trees sped by against the summer blue of the sky. Wallflowers and tumbling aubretia were showing in the gardens of the little town houses. Soon they had left the rural, picturesque Shawford behind and were aiming towards London.

The sound of the tyres hummed over the road. Sometimes there was nothing much to be seen beyond the wide highway on which they travelled, at others they cruised through country towns and along narrow lanes past sleepy hamlets.

As the morning drew on Gray Barrett broke the silence of the interior of the car to say impersonally, 'We'd better stop for some refreshment shortly. I'll keep a look out for a suitable spot.'

Carol eagerly kept a look out too. She had been noticing the pretty little cafés and countryside inns along tie way. As they drove through a little market town she saw with sinking heart that the man at the wheel had an eye only for the rather dull-looking commercial-traveller type hotels. When she saw him preparing to pull in, a few minutes later, beside one of these street-side establishments, her disappointment was so great she exclaimed without thinking, 'Oh, couldn't we go somewhere where there's a garden?'

Gray Barrett set his jaw and heaved an impatient sigh, but he didn't pull in where he had planned to. He kept on going slowly until, out into the country again, they came upon a corner-side inn with a tall thatched roof and white-painted walls, and islands of flowers around the front. 'This suit you?' he asked, the hint of sarcasm in his tones.

Carol, still wondering how she had found the nerve to open her mouth, but too pleased with the view to care, nodded to say shyly, 'It's much prettier.'

She waited until they were able to alight, with happy impatience. She didn't know about the others, but what with the drive, the sunny day, the pretty scenery, and now the picturesque inn with its gay umbrellas and green side lawns, she was developing a distinct holiday feeling. She was filled with an urge to enjoy everything to the full.

They parked in the space provided and walked over to the inn. Carol gazed about her with lively interest. She noticed the old swinging sign and the big white- painted wagon wheel, from which the inn derived its name, standing under the thatched roof entrance.

Gray Barrett ushered them into the garden at the side. His gaze searching out the entrance to a small bar across the space he said crisply, 'Find yourself a table.

I'll have something sent out.'

He strode off and disappeared into the interior, and Carol, realising that he had left them to it, said brightly, * pointing to a trelliswork section, 'Shall we sit over there? It looks rather nice.'

Stephanie nodded indifferently and trailed after her. They hadn't been settled at the table long when a man in a white apron came and swung a tray down under their noses. On it were enough wrapped sandwiches to feed a team of roadworkers, and two glasses of milk. Carol had by this time worked up an appreciable appetite. She unwrapped a packet of ham sandwiches with relish, but the glass of milk which had been ordered for her she eyed with a wry look. Gray Barrett had obviously decided she was still at the weaning stage.

She could see him from where she was sat. He was standing inside the doorway beside the bar, conspicuously more at ease in a room filled with men. His broad back was turned away from the outdoors as though he preferred to forget them for the time being. He spoke desultorily with one or two other men beside the bar.

She brought her attention back to the table and the tasty sandwich she was munching. She noticed, without appearing to, that Stephanie ate more as a form of duty rather than with any kind of enjoyment. Because Carol felt much more relaxed in the picturesque setting, she was able to smile encouragement, exclaiming chummily as she attacked another sandwich, 'I'm starving! Aren't you?'

'Not really,' Stephanie shrugged, taking the odd bite at her sandwich. And then politely, to excuse Carol's appetite, she remarked, 'But I expect you've been on the road a long time.'

The fifteen-year-old finished her glass of milk and rose to gaze absently about her. There was no one else in the enclosure apart from two old ladies in summer hats who stood talking at the gate. As Stephanie wandered off between the tables, touching a hand here and there where she passed, Carol was able to study her at her leisure.

The younger girl didn't act like someone about to embark on a summer vacation. She still wore her school uniform uncomplainingly. Most girls of her age would have been frantically impatient to fling off the trappings of term time by now, and clamouring to get into something gayer and more individual. Nor did she go skipping and flying around, drinking in the delicious freedom of holiday time as any schoolgirl would have done. But rather, with her dark hair hanging down her straight back and her elfin features quietly composed, she moved with melancholy grace and a seriousness beyond her years. The only flash of youthful vivacity and undisguised happiness that Carol had seen on Stephanie's young face had been in that moment at the school when she had spotted her uncle calling to collect her.

Thoughtfully Carol finished her meal. She drank the milk, wishing it had been a sharp effervescent thirst- quenching chink. Then feeling pleasantly refreshed, and bearing in mind that it was up to her to make friends with her young charge, she rose and drifted across the grass to join her.

With Stephanie trailing loosely alongside her Carol made a tour of the leafy enclosure, stopping to gaze at star-shaped clematis spilling over the walls and at green ferns sprouting in corners. Where climbing roses adorned the arches of the trelliswork, she endeavoured to inject a little warmth into their stroll by exclaiming enthusiastically, 'I love roses, don't you? We've got masses of them in our garden just now.'

Stephanie turned to give her a curious stare and asked, 'Do you have a garden?'

•Why, yes!' Carol smiled, a little taken back by the question. But later, watching the younger girl drift on ahead, she thought she understood.

Stephanie's parents had lived abroad for five years. They were apparently quite content to let the responsibility of their daughter's upbringing rest with the boarding school or anyone else who was willing to take her on for a while. Though she had been quick to defend her mother and father after her carping complaints at the school, Carol hadn't been fooled. She had seen enough in the short space of time since they had met to guess that Stephanie was an unwanted child.

When the younger girl had asked just now, with something like envious wonder in her tones, 'Do you have a garden?' she had really been saying 'Do you have a home?'

Arriving back at the table they went off to freshen up for the rest of the journey. They were ready beside the gate when Gray Barrett came out from the bar. He led the way over to the car and wasting no words, took his seat behind the wheel. They were soon back on the road again.

It was not long after this that they began to touch on the outskirts of London. The roads became wider, busier and thundered with traffic. There was nothing to do but watch the shapes spin by. When it seemed that the motorway would never end, they at last came into the suburbs of the city. Here it was a tedious succession of stops and starts at various traffic lights.

Stephanie grew restless. She sighed at the closed windows and commented, fidgeting 'It's awfully stuffy in here.'

'It's even worse outside with the fumes,' her uncle replied tetchily, sharply avoiding a looming bumper. 'And there's no point in garaging the car until we've finished the business that's got to be done.'

The bulk of this was apparently the purchasing of Stephanie's holiday garments, for a short while later they drew up alongside an elegant store in a quiet, exclusive area.

It appeared that uncle and niece were no strangers here. As soon as they entered, a coolly smiling manageress hurried across the floor towards them.

'Good morning.' Gray Barrett acknowledged the woman's courteous greeting with a brisk nod of his head. 'My niece will require a complete summer wardrobe. We expect to be in Italy about three months.'

'Certainly, Mr Barrett.' The manageress inclined her smile in the direction of the interior. "Would you come this way, please.'

Gray Barrett strode off beside her and Carol and Stephanie trudged along behind, over the thick carpet to a luxurious salon up a low flight of stairs. Here, while a young lady assistant was being briefed discreetly, Gray Barrett settled himself in one of the padded armchairs and opened the paper he had bought from a newstand during a recent traffic jam.

The assistant was beckoning smilingly from across the room, and gathering from the shut-down expression behind the newspaper that she was expected to go along too, Carol led the way.

The beach outfits and summer ensembles which were brought out for Stephanie's approval were breathlessly expensive. Prices were not mentioned, of course, but Carol could see at a glance that one item would have cost her at least a month's wages.

The assistant's enthusiasm knew no bounds. Obviously aware that the cost was immaterial, she set herself out to be as imaginative as possible. Holding up one garment after another, she sparkled such encouragements as, 'You'll find this gorgeously cool for the beach,' and, 'This is a pretty little dress for evenings.'

Carol worried a little about Stephanie's choice of attire. The girl seemed to go for things which were obviously a little too old for her. Carol tried to point this out to her when she felt it was necessary, only to find that, though Stephanie viewed most of the buying with placid indifference, she had, when she set her mind on something, a surprisingly strong will. The assistant was no help at all on these occasions. She was mainly concerned with pleasing rather than advising.

When a suitable selection had been made there was the business of trying on the purchases. Most of the garments fitted perfectly, but one or two needed slight - alteration, mainly at the hem. A seamstress was on hand in the salon for this purpose and every so often Stephanie had to come out of the changing booth for a fitting.

She was standing in a beautifully tailored striped beach suit having the trouser hems adjusted when Carol, looking on near by, noticed with a nervous thudding of her heart that Gray Barrett, his paper now folded on his knee, was also watching the proceedings.

She walked over to where the purchased garments spilled about in boxes and tried to look busy. Hypersensitive to his movements, she knew he had risen from his chair and was strolling critically around the area where his niece was being attended to by the seamstress and the assistant.

She didn't know why she trembled when she heard the muffled thud of his footsteps on the carpet coming up behind her. She felt his brown gaze taking in the expensive array of garments she was fiddling over, then his harsh voice sounded on her disbelieving ears. 'You'd better select yourself a dozen or so outfits while we're here.'

'Me?' Carol swung on him with startled wonder. It was true she had been full of wistful admiration for the tasteful clothes she had seen in the store. But to be invited to choose some for herself! The idea left her positively breathless.

Brusquely embarrassed by the glowing look she gave him, Gray Barrett said somewhat pompously, 'My niece is used to having only the best. Naturally as her companion you will be expected to command the same respect. You'll hardly do that with one small suitcase.'

Seeing his point, Carol nodded meekly. But still glowingly she lifted her eyes and said, 'Thank you very much.'

'Don't thank me,' he rasped drily, shifting his weight. 'Stephanie's parents are not poor. They're willing to pay anything to ensure her well-being.'

Always provided she doesn't bother them, Carol was tempted to say, but she didn't.

He must have spoken to the assistant, for a second or two later she came smilingly over. It wouldn't have been so bad if Carol had been left to it, but much to her excruciating shyness she found that Gray Barrett made no move to return to his chair. Standing beside her, he looked at every garment the assistant brought out and when Carol was too afraid to show her delight, he would comment with masculine offhandedness, 'That looks all right.'

The light dresses for evening made her eyes shine. If she dared to finger one tentatively he would say testily, 'Well, for heaven's sake, go and try it on.'

Eventually she was fitted out with several changes of attire. Luckily, because of her height, she had no problems with alterations. Stephanie still had one or two dresses which needed to be pinned at the hem. As she stood while the seamstress measured busily, Gray Barrett cast one or two impatient glances at his watch.

Carol knew that it was approaching lunch time and she guessed that Saturday was half-day closing for the store. She couldn't think of anything else which would cause the man's obvious ill-humour, until he returned from a conversation with the manageress and briskly informed his niece, 'We'll have to come back later and pick you up, Stephanie.' And with a grinding look at Carol, 'Miss Lindley here doesn't yet possess a passport, and the offices won't stay open indefinitely. We'll be back as quick as possible.'

Leaving his niece to make the best of it, he swept Carol before him and ushered her out into the street. At the car she fumbled nervously over the handle. Impatiently he opened the door next to the driving seat and clipped, 'In here.'

The traffic was a pulsing roar as they slid into the stream of it. Carol sat rigid, trying to look patiently unconcerned at the muttered oaths of the man swinging - the wheel beside her.

After jerking and stopping and speeding where space would allow, they drew up at last and turned into the courtyard of a gaunt grey-stone building.

Inside Gray Barrett was greeted with the utmost courtesy, and treated as though he was a man of considerable importance. Everyone seemed to jerk into bustling activity when he arrived. He must have had a message phoned through from Rowan House about the passport, for everyone seemed to know why he was here.

They were shown into a big room furnished with a long polished table and chairs. While Gray Barrett was pacing and waiting, a middle-aged man in spectacles hurried in and laid out a long form on the table. 'Here we are, Mr Barrett,' he said with business-like amiability. 'If the young lady will just write in the details--'

Seated at the table, Carol was seized with raw panic when she saw all the small print. She would never take all this in with the big man hovering behind her. Fortunately for her, the jolly little government official proved to be a mild distraction, with his cordial conversation while the two men waited. Even so, when she faltered at one time, not knowing where to put the pen next, Gray Barrett's finger came in to stab the paper with an irritable, 'Here! You know your mother's christian name, don't you?'

At last all the lines were filled in. The middle-aged official nodded over the form approvingly. 'I'll put this through right away, Mr Barrett.' He moved towards the door, adding with genial optimism, 'It shouldn't take long.'

It was probably no more than ten or fifteen minutes that the man was away. To Carol it seemed years. She sat at the table not daring to move, painfully aware of that other presence in the awful silence of the room.

She sat tensed and immobile for so long that in the end her aching back and neck muscles would stand it no longer, and she was forced to turn to a more relaxed position.

And why not? she asked herself with flagging bravado. He was only a man, wasn't he?

In her new position now that she had moved, she had a clear view of him, standing big and frowning, his gaze directed out of the window. There was nothing monster-like about him that she could see. She had even noticed him smiling once or twice since they had entered the government offices. His teeth were white and even. She had noticed that too. And it had struck her, whenever she had sneaked a look at him on these occasions, how his smile seemed to give wings to the scowling shadows on his face.

Eventually the busy little government man returned. When Carol had signed her name again she was presented with her passport. The crisp new card with the awful picture of her inside seemed scant reward for all the pen work she had had to do. Nor was she to have the pleasure of possessing it. As they took their leave of the government offices, Gray Barrett held out his hand and said sourly, 'After all the trouble we've had getting it, I'd better hang on to that.'

The traffic had thinned out considerably as they made their way back to the store. Most of the shops and businesses had closed their doors for the weekend, leaving the city centre to the tourists. Carol had a suspicion that the people in the passport office had stayed on purely for Gray Barrett's benefit.

It was much the same story at the store. The doors were closed, but the manageress came forward as smilingly as ever to let Gray Barrett and Carol in. She explained that the seamstress had made all the necessary adjustments and would be working with her staff through the afternoon to complete the alterations.

Gray Barrett nodded and gave the name of the hotel where the purchased goods were to be delivered. They collected Stephanie, who was sitting with a bored look . in front of a portable television, and made their way back out to the car.

The morning's business apparently completed, they cruised along the wide streets past tourist spots gay with sightseers. Carol had only been to London once before on a school outing, so her gaze tended to swing about excitedly. Stephanie, seated beside her, had her head in a colourful teenage magazine which she had acquired from somewhere. Gray Barrett, just in front of her, drove leisurely, but looking to neither right nor left. Because she had no one with whom she could exclaim along with when she saw some particularly riveting sight Carol had to keep swallowing back her gasps of amusement and pleasure.

At one time when they passed a street band, a motley group complete with top hats and false noses and big bass drums, ebulliently serenading the passers-by, she got laughingly carried away and inadvertently grabbed the broad shoulder in front of her in her enthusiasm.

Almost at once she remembered where she was and dropped back pink-cheeked into her seat as Gray Barrett remarked with acid humour, 'Save yourself, Miss Lindley. The journey hasn't started yet. And we've got a long way to go.'

CHAPTER FOUR

IT was almost three o'clock when they drew up alongside the hotel, a big old-fashioned building which took up a whole corner block. Inside, the huge foyer was the scene, of considerable activity with porters hurrying across the space and guests wandering here and there.

The luggage was brought in and the car was driven away. After watching these jobs being attended to, Gray Barrett strode over to the reception desk. Carol, traipsing alongside Stephanie behind him, tried not to show her awe at her surroundings.

Across the space she saw stone archways leading off to different sections of the hotel, and dim alcoves holding great musty-looking couches. But dominating the foyer as one came in was the grand staircase at the opposite end. Red-carpeted, it started at the centre, then flanked off to right and left, its scroll-carved wooden handrails continuing up on either side to the balconied first floor. Above there were white marble busts looking down from high places.

To Carol it all had the hollow ring of a rather grand museum.

While they were waiting at the desk her delighted eye fastened on a rack of picture postcards depicting London in glorious colour. She must have some of these for the family. With Stephanie looking on idly she swung the rack round picking out the gayest scenes she could find. Thoroughly enjoying the task, she quite forgot where she was until Gray Barrett, turning from the desk, complete with porters and luggage and room keys, spotted her and came looming in to say with a barbed smile, 'Just let us know where you're ready, Miss Lindley.'

'Oh, I'm sorry.' She jumped round, the pleasure on her face receding behind a blush. 'I just thought I could quickly…'

As she fumbled in her handbag for money he clipped, 'Forget that,' and waving the postcards she had chosen towards the receptionist, he shunted her on her way.

They went up the staircase, their luggage going on ahead of them. Carol heard her employer's crisp instructions sounding in her ear. 'I've ordered a light meal to be sent up to your room. Dinner is at seven-thirty. Make sure you're down prompt.' His sharp gaze included Stephanie as he gave the order. Then with a curt, 'I'll see you both, then,' he nodded to one of the porters who took them, a key jingling in his hand, along a „ carpeted corridor on the first floor.

The room they were shown into had a high ceiling and tall gaunt windows draped with yards of net. The London traffic fumes were no doubt responsible for their greyish-white appearance. There were two beds and a wardrobe and one or two oddments of furniture.

Their luggage was set down and the door closed behind them. Carol threw off her jacket and went to look out of the window. There was little to be seen of the street because of the huge cornice jutting out just below the windowsill, but she was able to catch a glimpse of one or two passers-by down there, and a red bus trundling along. Inside the room, along the walls, was all the wiring for central heating and other comforts. But none of these modern touches could disguise the musty age of the place. One could even smell the centuries in the high ornate ceiling and the plastered walls.

She noticed that Stephanie moved about, removing her school blazer, tossing her tie on to the dressing table, without a thought for her surroundings, as though she had done it all so many times before.

Now that they were alone Carol felt all her old shyness welling up inside. Determined to overcome it, she swung away from the window and asked brightly> 'Now! Which bed would you like?'

'Oh, I don't mind,' Stephanie shrugged. 'I'll take this one.' She dropped down on the nearest one to the door, apparently already at a loose end.

'I suppose we could unpack our night clothes,' Carol said chattily, 'and our toilet things.'

Stephanie was just about to do so uncomplainingly when there was a staccato knock on the door.

Carol jumped nervously, wondering who on earth was coming in. When she saw an efficient-looking waiter appearing with a tray of food she had no idea what to do. Stephanie, on the other hand, showed no embarrassment. With a touch of her uncle's imperiousness she waved him in and told him to place the tray down on the bedside table. Carol gave him a shy smile of thanks and watched him go out and close the door behind him.

They ate sitting on the beds with the table between them. There were two plates of fresh salad with slices of ham at the side, buttered rolls and a pot of tea. Carol, enjoying the novel way of eating, made happy small talk about the meal. Stephanie replied when it was necessary. Though she wasn't exactly unfriendly, she didn't go out of her way to make conversation. She had shown at the school that she was capable of various emotions, but since then she seemed to have adopted a resigned attitude.

Carol, in her wisdom, decided not to push things. As she saw it, the two of them were going to be together for a long time. Far better to let a friendship develop naturally between them.

The meal over, they put the tray outside the door and prepared to relax. Carol knew by her aching body that she was very tired after her early morning rise. Yet when she lay on the bed and tried to doze she found it impossible. Her mind was far too alive and active in her new surroundings; her nerves tense with excitement at the thought of the journey tomorrow. She had never flown in a plane before.

After a while she gave up the idea of sleep, and rising, she went to get her handbag. She had forgotten about the postcards. That would give her something to do for die afternoon. It gave her a new thrill to browse through the colourful scenes she had chosen. There were four in all, so she had plenty to keep her busy.

She tried to pack as much news as she could on the back of each card. Seated at the bedside table, her face glowingly absorbed in her task, she became aware only gradually that Stephanie was watching her. Stretched out on her bed holding her magazine, the younger girl asked, her eyes on the cards, 'Who are you writing to?'

'My parents,' Carol replied, smiling, 'and two of my - younger sisters.'

Stephanie digested this slowly. Then, her face registering a certain coldness, she returned to her magazine.

For Carol the main highlight of the afternoon was , the arrival of their clothes from the store. Hers came in a brand new leather suitcase. Stephanie's were still in their boxes. She dispensed with them emotionlessly, transferring the contents to her expensive equipage.

As it grew nearer the time to go downstairs, the girls went in turns to take a leisurely bath in the bathroom along the corridor. Afterwards Carol drifted about uncertainly in her bathrobe. She wasn't at all sure what she ought to wear for dinner in a hotel. She saw nothing wrong in asking the younger girl's advice.

Flicking through her own clothes, Stephanie said with a sigh, 'Oh, Gray will expect us to wear something grand, I suppose.'

Carol mused on the reply as she turned to her suitcase. So his niece called him Gray, then, not Uncle.

In view of what she had been told Carol chose one of her new dresses to wear. It was in shell-pink crepe and had a broad pastel-embroidered sash stitched up high under the bosom of the sleeveless bodice. She felt very regal in it, and not at all gauche, which was her usual experience whenever she dressed up for an occasion.

The pink went quite well with her pale hair, she thought. Her complexion had a fresh scrubbed look, but she had never been able to get on with paint and powder on her face, and she saw no reason to start now.

Stephanie with an equally scrubbed face looked very demure in a blue and white dress with a boat-shaped neck and tiny cap sleeves. Both in pale shoes, a handkerchief tucked away in some discreet place, they went out along the corridor and made their way down the carpeted staircase.

The foyer was lit with heavy candelabra-type chandeliers. People in evening dress were wandering about near the various archways. One or two stood around as though waiting to be joined by others. The noise of the Saturday night traffic sounded from the open doors.

Carol saw Gray Barrett quite clearly while they were still on the stairs. He was standing near the restaurant archway talking to an elderly man with a military bearing and luxuriant white moustache. She knew Stephanie's uncle had seen them just as clearly coming down the stairs, but he made no attempt to round off his conversation with the other man as they trailed across the foyer to him and hung about.

Stephanie regarded the hold-up as a matter of course, letting her glance roam idly around while they waited. Carol, lacking the younger girl's poise, and blazingly conscious of herself before the dozens of eyes in the foyer, found every second that they stood there an eternity. She had ample time to notice Gray Barrett's perfectly cut suit of pale grey check, his crisply combed dark hair and clean-shaven somewhat craggy jaw.

She breathed an inward sigh of relief when at last the two men broke up. Expressing a wish that all would go well with the Italian trip, the elderly man gave a last wave and moved off. As he went, Gray Barrett acknowledged the parting comment with a dry one of his own, then he turned and shepherded the girls before him into the restaurant.

The tables draped with white cloths were circular and spaciously arranged. The heavy silverware and tall pillars gave the room a dated elegance. The three of them were led to a table beside the windows. Stephanie chose to sit with her back to them looking into the room. Her uncle took the chair facing her. Carol sat in the side place between them.

They were served immediately with a soup, hot and savoury, then a meat dish. Carol held her knife and fork with trembling hands. She was terrified of committing a blunder, of picking up the wrong item of cutlery in Gray Barrett's presence.

A sheen on her pale hair from the muted glow of the lights, her arms thin and bare, she ate with a sparrowlike timidity. Though she was too afraid to lift her eyes much from her plate, she was aware of the room crowded with diners, of the general relaxed atmosphere, the hum of voices, the clink of tableware, the occasional thread of laughter rising above the background of taped music.

With the meal well under way it became much the same at her own table. Stephanie seemed to come alive now that her uncle was no longer occupied with business matters and she had him just across the table from her. Her brown eyes shone as she made comments to him about the food and about the people in the room. Quite obviously she adored him.

But though she seemed to want to claim the whole of her uncle's attention, Carol got the impression that half the time he didn't even know his niece was there. When he wasn't talking to the waiter or frowning over the wine list he was mainly occupied with the leisurely conversation taking place between himself and two middle-aged business men at the next table, men with whom he appeared to be mildly acquainted.

Throughout the evening the topics centred around government policy on this and that, and the latest news on the Stock Exchange. Carol even found herself relaxing under cover of the dreary conversation. She discovered she needn't crouch over her plate quite so rigidly, and sitting back a little she was able to let her gaze wander at times over the room.

Gradually she got to the point where she was secretly enjoying the occasion. The food was deliciously cooked. There was so much to see in the gaunt Victorian atmosphere of the room; red-faced colonel types dining with their ladies, an Indian couple in colourful dress, and several matronly ladies, one of whom had a gorgeous white toy poodle which would keep jumping about on its hind legs.

No one appeared to be in any hurry to tear themselves away from the restaurant. The waiters served the courses leisurely, the music played on discreetly in the background and time drifted pleasantly by. Apparently one took the whole of the evening to dine in London.

When at last the tables started to empty, Gray Barrett nodded a farewell to his business friends and led the way out into the foyer. Though he himself was obviously heading for the bar he made it clear that the girls should go to their room and get to bed. He told them, in his crisp tones, to be all packed and down at eight in the morning for breakfast. Then with a brisk 'Goodnight,' he left them drifting towards the stairs.

Carol was in no mood to care one way or the other about being packed off to bed. She was thrilled at the way she had spent her Saturday night. Anything further would only have shattered her dreamy contentment. Besides, there was tomorrow to look forward to, and Italy!

She felt the thick carpet of the staircase beneath her feet. At the top, on a mischievous impulse, she flopped down on one of the big old-fashioned sofas with their blown-up-looking cushions and upholstery. Sinking into it, she laughed at Stephanie, 'Come on! It's fun.'

Stephanie, being young, patiently obliged, though her smile was strained and that animated light of earlier was missing now from her eyes.

When the girls turned they could see through the balustrade down to the foyer below. They stayed there for a while, peeping at the people coming and going, then the younger girl said, wearying of the game, 'Let's get to bed, shall We?'

The corridors were dimly lit. They went along to their room, switched on the light and closed the door behind them.

Stephanie wasted no time in preparing for bed. Carol thought that she might as well go too. She knew that beneath her excitement she was dreadfully weary, and an early night would probably be the wisest.

They each made trips to the bathroom to scrub their hands and faces for the night, returning with shining complexions, the fragrance of soap lingering around their bathrobes. When they had brushed their hair and slipped into nightwear, Carol padded to the door and switched out the light. The roadside lamps shone faintly through the heavy curtains, filled the room with a pale glow as she made for her bed. She slipped between the sheets and lay happily staring at the ceiling.

She thought of the day with all its emotional ups and downs, while she had tried to get used to the imperious ways of Gray Barrett. She thought about her family. She could just see them now, grouped around the television in the living room, some watching, the others causing chaos.

But most of all she thought of tomorrow and Italy. Was she really going abroad? She still couldn't believe it. She knew lots of girls who had already managed to see at least one foreign country, but the possibility of her doing the same herself had always seemed very remote. Now here she was. Her bags were packed, she had a brand-new passport, and tomorrow she would actually be flying!

What would it be like, speeding through the air for the first time? She was casting her mind back to all the girlish chatter she had heard describing the experience, when a faint sound came to her ears.

She listened. It was coming from the other bed, the muffled sound of weeping.

Raising herself quickly on her elbows, she asked in the darkness, 'Stephanie, is anything the matter?'

'No, nothing,' came the sniffling reply, and impatiently, 'For goodness' sake go to sleep!'

Carol dropped back on to the pillow again. Her heart ached as she listened to the stifled gulps beneath the bedclothes. She felt ashamed now of her own high spirits. The sniffs in the darkness sobered her into seeing the other side of the picture. For her the trip tomorrow was something new and exciting, whereas for Stephanie it was just another dreary round of filling in the time until school started again.

Feelingly, Carol resolved to do all she could to make the young girl's summer in Italy a happy one.

The alarm of the little travelling clock on the bedside table went off at precisely seven-thirty. The two girls rose promptly. They had nothing to do but wash and dress and slip their nightwear and toilet things into their cases. Carol wished she could have borrowed some of Stephanie's calm. Her stomach had a funny butterfly ache in it, and she felt weak from nervous tension.

The younger girl, showing no signs of the tears of last night, was wearing a plain day dress in bottle green, so Carol decided to make do with her check suit again and a slightly less fussy blouse.

They went downstairs a few minutes after eight. Gray Barrett was pacing the foyer as though they were hours late. Carol irritated him further by stopping to drop her postcards in the box beside the reception desk.

The atmosphere in the restaurant was vastly different from that of last night. Most of the tables were empty. The ones that weren't were occupied by grumpy tired- looking individuals, and the only sound to break the cold silence of the early morning was the waiters' whispered footsteps over the carpet and the muted clatter from the kitchens in the distance.

Carol found it difficult to get any breakfast down. She was grateful most for the big cup of milky coffee which soothed her churning insides.

There was no lingering about this morning. After breakfast there was barely time for the girls to go up to their room for a final tidy up, before the porter was knocking on the door to carry their luggage down.

They hurried down to the foyer, only to find themselves hanging about beside the cases. Carol gazed with knotted-up insides across the space. It was just typical of Gray Barrett, she thought, to have them scurrying around upstairs and then take his time at the reception desk.

She watched him passing the time of day with one or two other departing guests as he went through the business of paying the bill. She noticed that he was never short of something to say when he was in masculine company. She supposed he was what her father would call 'a man's man'.

She moved her gaze away and, like Stephanie, whiled away the moments watching the early morning movement in the foyer. She saw the woman of the Indian couple disappear through an archway in a brilliant pink sari and head shawl.

The click of a firm heel across the tiles heralded Gray Barrett's approach at last. With a snap of his fingers he had the cases carried out to the door. A taxi was hailed and drew in almost at once. All the luggage went into the space beside the driver.

Carol climbed in with Stephanie. She found it a bit disconcerting having Gray Barrett in the back with them. Of course he didn't sit with them. He used one of the pull-down seats facing theirs, and as the taxi started off he turned his preoccupied gaze out of the window.

He was seated opposite Stephanie, so at least Carol had breathing space. She felt she needed it. She wouldn't have known where to put herself if he had sat facing her. She fidgeted, trying to keep her gaze out of the window, but somehow it kept finding its way back into the car and skimming over his immaculate pastel blue shirt, the curling dark hair around his ear and his jutting clean-shaven jaw.

Of the taxi's movements, she knew vaguely that they were shunting along traffic-congested streets and speeding around corners. Finally they left the blare of the city behind and took to the fast-moving motorway.

To Carol it seemed an interminable ride. She felt jaded already and they had only just started the journey. Her interest picked up when views of the airfield started to appear. She saw planes in the distance spread- eagled on the ground. Her heart took a dive when one rose up with a roar and streaked off straight as an arrow into the sky. She felt quite limp when they alighted from the taxi outside the airport building.

Gray Barrett watched the unloading of the luggage and saw that it was wheeled inside, after which he shepherded the girls in ahead of him.

All was bustle and activity. The hollow ring of people's voices, trundling trolleys and loudspeakers sounded across the vast spaces. Carol had to watch that she didn't get left behind as she swung her wide-eyed glance around.

They went to have the luggage weighed. Then the tickets had to be checked. There seemed so much to do, so many things to be taken care of, she wondered if they were ever going to be finished trailing from one point to another.

When at last it appeared that all the formalities had been taken care of, Gray Barrett went to buy a paper. Stephanie bought one of the teenage magazines which she seemed fond of. Carol couldn't get her mind to grasp at anything. Above the hum of voices in the airport lounge, which they had transferred to, she could hear the engines of the planes outside; the occasional thunder of one taking off. She wished that the noise didn't terrify her so.

She began to have distinct longings for home, for the comforting atmosphere of the family scene, where nothing went any faster than the toy handcart that her sisters tugged up and down the Common.

She sat while the others read feeling her heart pounding in a frightening way. When all at once, to the sound of a voice over the loudspeaker, everyone rose, Gray Barrett and his niece included, she had an awful feeling that her legs weren't going to hold her.

She struggled to her feet and tried to look as indifferent as everyone else in the surge towards the doors out to the plane. She stuck close to Stephanie and together with her was scooped along in the shepherding arm of Gray Barrett. Seeing that dark suit sleeve under her nose, Carol would have given anything, just then, to cling to it.

There was a terrible whining noise and the feel of rushing air as they came out to crowd down a narrow corridor which led up to the plane doors. Stewardesses with happy smiles on their faces, which soothed Carol's shredded nerves a little, were there to greet everyone who came on board.

She felt soft carpet under her feet, cool air-conditioning on her face and amidst the heads of the people in front gazed down the incredible length of the plane.

The seats were in rows of threes. She had no idea where to go. Apparently one just strolled down the aisle and pleased oneself. Eventually Gray Barrett nodded towards a row. Because she was in the lead, Carol was compelled to slide in first She had no desire to sit near the window, but she didn't see what else she could do. If she demurred and let Stephanie go in first, it meant sitting next to Gray Barrett, and she would never survive that.

While she was fighting off a slight claustrophobic feeling with the small window at the side of her and the tall seats in front, the other two settled themselves in beside her. She marvelled at the way they calmly returned to their reading. The engine of the plane was throbbing. The stewardesses were checking everything. Soon they would be leaving the ground which she gazed on lovingly now from her window. How could they read at a time like this?

She was shaken momentarily out of her terror by the looming figure of Gray Barrett. She had watched Stephanie fasten her seat belt and had fumbled to do the same. Now the big figure leaned in to check the firmness of it, and his niece's, before sitting back to fasten his own.

Carol gathered by this action that they were due to start out and sure enough, a second or two later the plane moved forward, its engines accelerating to an almighty roar. Her hands gripping the arms of her seat, she watched in fascinated horror as the ground started to move past the window.

She knew nothing of airport procedure; of such things as the pilot having to wait for his signals, of taxiing across the apron to reach the runway, so that she suffered a tense hang-up of three or four minutes needlessly.

She began to wonder if they were going to Italy overland. The plane sped on and on. Just when she was beginning to get a feeling of anti-climax, the ground fell away before her very eyes, her seat seemed to slope into the air, and even as she half-sneaked a look, trucks, cars, trees, houses took on a toy-like quality.

Hypnotised, she watched a wisp of cloud float past the window, then quickly she brought her gaze inside. Everyone looked so normal when she stared around. The passengers seemed to accept, almost gaily, that only the floor of the plane separated them from all that space outside. The stewardesses were tripping down the aisle and people were unfastening their seat belts. Carol pretended to fiddle with hers, but she kept it tightly fastened. She had heard that the journey would take just over two hours, and during that time she preferred to stay glued to her seat.

To the drone of engines she tried to take an interest in Stephanie's magazine raised at the side of her, but nothing registered on her glazed senses. Looking outside was worse. She had discovered that the plane's wing was just a little way along from her window, and horror of horrors, she could see all sorts of weird mechanisms working; flaps sliding in and out, wires coiling this way and that, and lights flickering on and off. It was just too awful to watch.

Rigidly she sat trailing her gaze over the air-conditioning buttons overhead, and along the seat pockets in front of her, schooling herself to look anywhere but out of the window.

Some of her sickly apprehension must have communicated itself to Stephanie, for after a while the younger girl lowered her magazine and turned to ask, her brown gaze curious, 'Are you feeling all right?'

'Oh, I will be ..." Carol's attempt at humour was strained, 'I just can't get used to being in the air.' She hid her envy of the younger girl's calm acceptance and asked, 'Doesn't flying bother you?'

Stephanie considered the question for a moment, then replied, 'I was a bit timid the first time, but I've done it so often. Now it's just like catching a bus. And much more convenient.'

Carol smiled lamely. She couldn't say she altogether agreed with that.

Halfway through the journey a light snack was served. Stephanie was very helpful in showing Carol how to pull out the stand for her tray from the back of the seat in front. Not that she could eat a thing. The resemblance of an appetite she might have been building up was snatched away when a series of bumps and dips overtook the plane. Her coffee cup shook wildly in her hand, partly because of the jarring motion, but mainly because she was scared out of her wits.

Stephanie came to her rescue again. 'It's a bit of bad weather,' she said nonchalantly, pointing out of the window. Carol cringed a look outside and saw smokelike angry black clouds speeding past the window a short distance away. Beyond them the sky was incredibly blue and the sun shone down brilliantly. As they bumped along she was told, 'I expect the pilot will try and climb above it.'

She hung on, biting her lip, sure that the flimsy plane couldn't stand all this banging about. Then braving another look out of the window she saw that they were indeed soaring up towards the sun and the smoking black clouds were now racing by below them. Soon all was smooth once again.

The incident had lasted for perhaps no more than five minutes. To Carol it had seemed like a lifetime. She felt limp and chewed up and couldn't wait to have firm ground beneath her feet again. When later a voice came over the intercom to say that they were approaching Venice, she thought she had never heard a sweeter sound in the whole of her life.

Like everyone else she bent to attend to her seat belt when the time came, although it was already securely fastened. It was just as well. She doubted whether her shaking hands would have managed the task of redoing it.

Going down, she found, was worse than coming up. The plane dropped rapidly and banked on its side to circle the airport, without a thought for her palpitating heart. Though it was a comforting sight to see the scenery below she didn't like the way they went hurtling towards it.

Dragging her gaze inside, she stared hard at the seat in front of her. Long after she thought they must come into contact with something they were still dropping... dropping. She flung a look outside again. The ground was rushing up to them. Trees, houses, fields sped by. Then with a terrific roar of the engines, the wheels hit something. It couldn't be good solid earth, could it? She opened her eyes and sure enough they were speeding smoothly along the ground.

A few minutes later Stephanie folded her magazine and tucked it away as calmly as if her uncle's car had just come to a stop. She checked around for her bits and pieces and helped Carol to unfasten her seat belt. Gray Barrett rose and tossing his paper on to his seat, led the way out.

Carol let the other two go, then tottered to her feet. She had a job to make her legs carry her to the door. The fresh air on her face made her head spin. Giddily she moved along with everyone else down the steps and across the space to the airport buildings.

The place was crowded with another plane load which had just come in. Gray Barrett turned to search her out with his impatient frown. With Stephanie he scooped her along ahead of him towards the luggage section. Carol felt her legs trembling beneath her. There was a peculiar hissing noise in her ears. The prolonged excitement of the journey, coupled with the mounting tension she had experienced during the flight, suddenly took its toll on her body.

Though she tried to walk straight she began to sway. The lights became a brilliant dazzle before her eyes. She groped desperately for somewhere to sit, for somewhere to hide away, but there was no time. There in the vast crowded space with Gray Barrett ushering her along, she fainted clean away.

CHAPTER FIVE

CAROL, came round to find herself sitting on one of the wooden benches. Stephanie was holding a plastic beaker to her lips. Gray Barrett was hovering near by with his usual scowl. People were hurrying about their business. One or two eyed her with curious sympathetic glanced.

'Are you feeling better?' Stephanie asked, taking the beaker away.

'Oh, much!' Carol lied with a washed-out smile. She stood up to show that she was all right, attracting more glances with her white face.

Testily Gray Barrett said, 'It would help if you could arrange to have your fainting spells in less public places, Miss Lindley. Do you feel well enough to walk?' Carol nodded and he offered her his arm with, 'You'd better hang on to me.'

It felt odd walking arm in arm with her irate employer. She was thankful that he didn't go too fast. She was just beginning to feel the strength flowing back into her limbs.

Stephanie did most of the waiting and watching out for the luggage. When all their pieces had been retrieved from the conveyor belt a porter was called to transfer them to a taxi.

Carol discovered that they were to cross the lagoon to the Venice Lido by motor launch. When they arrived at the waterside she welcomed the fresh cool breezes on her face;. So many people like them were travelling to the Lido that all was still pandemonium. Luckily for Carol, Stephanie held her arm while Gray Barrett saw to the loading of the luggage. He managed to get a seat where there was plenty of fresh air.

The water was just like the sea, choppy and bouncy as they started out. But Carol was quickly recovering her vitality, and the realisation that she was actually here in Venice did a lot to put the shine back in her eyes. She didn't dare tax herself by looking too much at the distant sights. It was enough to feel herself being taken speedily along and to watch the spray rising from the boat.

There was no mistaking the Lido. When it appeared after they had passed several islands, it was like a long narrow strip of land set down across the mouth of the lagoon. One could hear that distant carefree hubbub of the beaches as the launch pulled in at the landing stage. The sharp salty fragrance of the open sea was heavy in one's nostrils.

Gray Barrett led the way ashore. They were met by a porter from their hotel, a nice surprise as far as Carol was concerned. The luggage was stowed away and they were driven off.

Along a busy arrow-straight road they passed dozens of hotels, all picturesque with gay sun-blinds, blossom- hanging gardens and outdoor tables.

The hotel they finally pulled into was a little different. Carol was reminded of the Victoriana of their London hotel when she saw it, although the Albany was like a rich well-to-do relative in comparison. The huge length of its exterior was a mass of delicately carved stonework which decorated the tremendous row of tall arched windows on the ground floor and the balustraded balconies immediately above. The ornate stonework also provided the bases for the smaller grillework balconies of the remaining upper floors.

The hotel was fronted by a wide terrace where tasteful black and white umbrellas shaded white filigree ironwork tables and matching chairs. Further along the terrace clusters of globe lights on tall black candelabra stands were positioned to light up the white-clothed outdoor restaurant section.

The entrance, wide and imposing, was on the corner by the black and white umbrellas. Carol walked inside along with the others. She had time to notice the elegant and sumptuous furnishings of the spacious public rooms.

After much business talk at the desk Gray Barrett turned and handed Carol a key. 'Your rooms are on the third floor,' he told her. 'You'll be taken up. Lunch is being served, so get down as soon as you can.'

Carol took the key with its heavy number plate attached and followed the porter along with Stephanie. She wondered what arrangements Gray Barrett had made for himself at the hotel. She remembered him saying he would be working in Venice, so she supposed he might well be staying in the city.

They went up in a smooth silent lift. The porter, a chunky little Italian, led the way out with their cases at the third floor. Stephanie, who had been looking quite animated since they had left the launch, now had a bored expression. Watching her as they moved along a carpeted corridor, Carol asked with a twinkle, 'Is anything wrong?'

Stephanie tossed an indifferent glance over the muted brown and gold d^cor and elegant wall furnishings and sighed, 'Trust Gray to pick somewhere like this.'

Carol smiled tolerantly. She supposed it was a bit heavy for a fifteen-year-old. She got the impression that the younger girl would have preferred one of the smaller, livelier hotels.

The porter opened the door with his own keys when they arrived and trundled the luggage inside. He performed the rest of his duties by taking them on a lightning inspection of the interior, before leaving them to it with a servile smiling bow.

Carol gazed around intrigued at her surroundings. It was really like an apartment. Though the furniture was heavy and solid-looking, the decor of deep purple fitted carpets and paler lilac curtains, with pink touches here and there, was quite beautiful. There were two single bedrooms with an adjoining bathroom, and the two tall french windows in the lounge each had a stonework balcony which looked out over the terrace and gardens to the sea.

There was no time to take in everything. Stephanie was already having a quick rinse in the bathroom. When she came out and drifted into one of the bedrooms Carol hurried to wash and brush her hair. A few minutes later they went out to search for the lift. Carol had left off her suit jacket and wore now just her skirt and blouse. Stephanie was still in her neat bottle- green dress.

They found Gray Barrett waiting for them beside the reception desk. Still in his dark suit, he looked as though he had had a quick spruce up. He led the way across the foyer to the entrance to the restaurant, having apparently learned his way around. At the door they were met by a striking-looking man in a deep royal blue jacket with black lapels and black trousers. He had a folded napkin over his arm and he led them glidingly through the restaurant to a table beside one of the big arched windows.

Carol was sure that by now she would be quite used to dining with Gray Barrett. She was shown into the seat next to his at their circular table, after which she decided firmly to herself to pretend he wasn't there. It was unfortunate that this time during the meal he chose to eye her rather penetratingly.

She felt his gaze raking her washed-out features and thin arms. At one point when she was toying with a rather strong-tasting dish he said gruffly, 'You should eat more.'

She felt her face turn pink. She knew he was thinking of her swooning spell at the airport. She remembered now that she had been walking quite close alongside him. The thought that it must have been he who had . caught her as she fell made her ears burn with embarrassment.

She realised, thinking about it, that so far she hadn't done too well at the job of chaperoning. If anything on the latter part of the trip it had been Stephanie who had looked after her.

It was obvious, judging by the stern brown gaze fixed on her now, that she was going to have to do better in the future.

The meal consisted of several courses; four or five, Carol lost count. Though some of the food was a little spicy, it was*on the whole varied and rather delicious. They had a calf's liver dish, and another where small birds in a rich and tasty sauce were served on slices of maize pudding. There was a light red wine to drink, although Stephanie was allowed only table water.

They didn't hurry away from the table when they had finished. Gray Barrett had a sheaf of the hotel literature with him and this he went through painstakingly to point out to the girls all they needed to know. 'You should have plenty to keep you occupied,' he said in his brisk detached way. 'The hotel has its own private beach and there are cabins and showers and a beach restaurant. There's a swimming pool in the grounds plus tennis courts and gardens, and a nightclub, which doesn't concern you.'

When he had been through everything he gathered the literature together and said in a businesslike way as though he was still discussing the stock market with his friends, 'I'm free for the rest of the day. If you want to go to the beach,' he looked at his watch, 'I'll give you an hour to unpack your clothes, then meet me at the main door.'

Stephanie, who had been listening dutifully but with a certain lassitude, suddenly perked up. Her face took on that eager light. She pushed back her chair and scrabbled to her feet to exclaim, 'An hour? We'll be ready ages before that!'

Her radiant look was lost on her uncle who had risen himself and was casting his preoccupied gaze down the now deserted restaurant. He said distinctly and a little pompously as they went out, 'You'll find it useful to remember, Stephanie, that it's wise to rest after a heavy meal. I'll accompany you to the beach at three.'

Carol walked meekly alongside the big man. She got the feeling that he was putting himself out to try and suit Stephanie, but she wondered why he didn't go about it in a less starchy manner.

At all events his niece seemed well pleased with the arrangements. She skipped along ahead of Carol towards the lift and chattered on the way up about what they would wear. Carol viewed her sudden vivaciousness with a happy relief.

She knew by the kindness and concern shown to her - on the latter half of the trip that Stephanie was basically a pleasant and well-meaning child, but she seemed subject to fits of moroseness and despondency which were a little disconcerting.

They had a gay time upstairs hanging up all their clothes. Carol couldn't believe, when she saw her crowded wardrobe, that all those colourful garments were hers to wear whenever she liked.

They tossed the occasional light-hearted comment to each other from their respective bedrooms while they experimented with this and that. In the end Carol settled for a two-piece swim-suit in a gay orange paisley design, with a matching halter-neck beach dress. Stephanie floated in, her small figure looking trim in a white two-piece swim-suit with a pink and blue polka-dot design, and a matching beach dress, its open edges down the front embroidered with tiny pink and blue flowers.

Though the younger girl was impatient to be off she was careful to check by her wrist watch that it was almost three before she led the way to the door.

Carol moved beside her along the corridor. She felt a shyness seize her as they went down in the lift. All the confidence she had enjoyed, preening in her new outfit before the mirror, deserted her completely when she thought of Gray Barrett's raking gaze.

She needn't have worried, however. He was sitting under one of the striped umbrellas with his back to the door jyhen they went out. As Stephanie padded up to him in her sandals, he rose and slotting his finger in to mark the page of the rather dull-looking book he was reading he led the way towards the gardens. Carol noticed that he was still wearing his suit. He carried his jacket Trver his arm and had unbuttoned the collar of his blue shirt. He seemed dourly ill at ease amongst the laughing holidaymakers thronging the hotel paths.

Shining through the feathery green of pine trees and above brilliantly flowering canna lilies was the sparkling strip of blue sea. The Albany section of the beach was marked by black and white sun beds and umbrellas and striped beach cabins. There were pedal boats in the water which edged mile upon mile of golden sands to right and left. Bobbing out at sea romantic-looking craft with red billowing sails advertised cruises to the romping holidaymakers and speedboats and water skiers sliced the blue distances.

The Albany beach restaurant was a circular stone building with windows all round and a railed sun roof on top. It stood on its own section of terrace and here at a shaded table Gray Barrett settled himself with his book. Stephanie wasn't unduly put out by this because the sand was only a few feet away from him. Gaily she chose sun beds on a line with her uncle's table and throwing off her beach dress flopped down.

Carol followed suit with almost the same gay abandon. It was a relief to know that the two of them were going to be on their own, and the scenery had an intoxicating effect on her. Fully recovered now from her slight indisposition after a substantial meal and a period of relaxation, she felt herself being swallowed up again in the flood of excitement. This was Italy! She was really here. Venice was just across the lagoon, and she had actually flown here in a fantastically modern plane. When she looked back on the experience now, she wondered why she hadn't let herself enjoy it more.

Gray Barrett ordered a drink for himself. He saw to it that the waiter served the girls with similar tall glasses, and then he forgot them. This was patently obvious to Carol. Stephanie, however, seemed content just to know he was there. As they wiggled their toes in the sand together she asked impulsively, 'Shall we swim?'

'If you like.' Carol jumped up with her. They ran down to the water and braved the first cold touch of the waves, wading in and splashing happily.

Living in a coastal town Carol was used to the sea, but this limpid clearness which was new to her was enhanced by the velvet warm caress of Italian sunshine.

They came out dripping, after a while, and laughingly hurried back to their towels. After drying off and combing their hair amongst the scattering of impedimenta from the beach bags they dropped down on their stomachs to pull on the straws of their tall drinks.

From where she was lying Carol had a good view of Gray Barrett. She noticed that he had laid aside his book and was engaged in conversation with an elderly, scholarly-looking man at the table next to him. She'd like to guess that they were discussing some dry-as-dust subject. That would explain why he was looking more relaxed, she thought wryly, because he had found a man of his own type down here at the beach. Now that he was less ill at ease he even managed to smile occasionally.

She watched how the grim set of his features was warmed fleetingly by that slow white gleam, not realising that she in turn was being watched. Stephanie followed her gaze, and taking a tug on her drink, she said, 'You like him, don't you?'

While Carol was juggling with this candid observation behind a furious rush of colour, Stephanie went on complacently, 'All the women go for Gray. But they never get anywhere. He's too wrapped up in his work.' There was a childish pride in her voice as she elaborated for Carol's sake. 'He works for the government. He'sthe head of the exhibitions department. Mummy, she's his sister, told me he was always brilliant at school. He's come to Venice to put on an exhibition for the summer.' A feminine wryness mingled with the complacency in her tones as she recited, 'When he's at Rowan House he catches the eight o'clock train up to London. And he travels on the five-thirty back down again. On Saturdays he has a drink in the village pub, and on Sundays he drives out to the golf club.'

Musing as she spoke, Stephanie put herself on a line with Carol's gaze and added chattily, 'He's only thirty- five. You'd think he was at least ten years older, wouldn't you?'

Excruciatingly embarrassed at the subject of the conversation Carol wriggled and said, feigning a careless air, 'I think I'll go and take another dip.'

They left the beach just after six. Stephanie noticed her uncle's imperious wave as he rose from his table and quickly they gathered their things together. Damp and glowing, they scuffed alongside the big figure as he moved with an impatient step back through the hotel gardens.

In the foyer they went their separate ways. Dinner was at eight o'clock, Gray Barrett informed Carol. He told her to get down promptly. Carol was excited because she thought they might be dining in the outdoor restaurant. Stephanie's sparkle was for another reason. She would have her uncle across the table from her again.

Upstairs they pampered themselves with leisurely baths and scented after-sprays, using up the spare moments until it was time to dress for dinner. Carol felt very grand in an ice-blue dress with sparkling beaded decoration around the neck and sleeves. Stephanie looked sweet in a beautifully tailored rose pink dress.

They went downstairs on the stroke of eight. Gray Barrett was waiting for them. He had changed and Carol was fascinated by his appearance. She had never seen a man in evening dress before. Though his was of the old school of pleated shirt front and velvet roll- collared dinner-jacket, she had to admit he looked rather striking.

With his usual perfunctory glance in their direction he led the way, not as she had hoped, out of doors, but across the foyer to the indoor restaurant. It was peopled at this time of day by grand old ladies and bald-headed men in stiff fly-away collars. There were one or two slightly less ancient types about, but most of the guests were dining out on the terrace.

In his beautiful royal blue jacket, his table napkin in place over his arm, the maitre d'hotel guided them with his smiling flair to their table beside the windows.

They dined superbly on roast lamb, Italian style, with tender new artichokes flattened and fried in oil, and slices of veal skewered to slices of ham and served with mushrooms, peppers and lemon. Carol was sure that it was the fresh air which made her face glow healthily in the twilight lighting of the restaurant. Gray Barrett, however, had other opinions. He fixed his eye on her and then on her glass and said in his curt, managing way, 'As most of the children drink it out here I saw no harm in allowing you a little wine, but perhaps you'd better do like Stephanie and stick to table waters.'

His words only served to make Carol's face flame like a beacon. She would gladly drink sea water if only he would take his flinty penetrating brown gaze off her.

They finished off with a sweet made of almonds and candied fruit. Though he had spoken to his niece only in a supervisory capacity throughout the meal, Stephanie was obviously in her seventh heaven when her uncle suggested that they retire to the hotel lounge. She pranced sedately ahead, her dark hair swinging attractively on her shoulders.

The lounge was across the foyer from the restaurant and though Carol had caught glimpses of it in passing she couldn't help being stunned inwardly at the sheer luxury the moment she set foot inside.

The tremendous space was topped by a suspended ceiling which was a grille of polished wood and hidden lighting. In squared-off groups beside bamboo partitions, huge chesterfield chairs and sofas in soft white leather faced in on to marble-topped coffee tables. Along the whole length of one wall panoramic windows looked out on to the illuminated swimming pool and gardens. Across the space against tall pillars and alongside the bamboo work, ornate palms and potted plants gazed at their reflections in the smooth polished tiles.

There was a scattering of guests lounging in private groups amidst the chesterfields. Stephanie chose a deserted section towards the centre of the room. Carol, for a moment, when she sat down in one of the big armchairs, thought she was never going to stop sinking. She felt swallowed up in floating soft-leathered luxury. Stephanie went for the settee, her small flushed face upturned eagerly as her uncle moved in. But he was busy catching the waiter's eye, and when he had ordered coffee for the three of them he turned and sat down in the armchair next to the settee. Quickly Stephanie snuggled into the arm nearest to him.

She made happy small talk about the lights over the pool and the people sitting at the tall stools beside the bar, oblivious to the fact that the man she was chatting to wasn't listening. She drank her coffee in her dainty decorous manner, laughing at the way the sugar lumps fizzed. She was all attractiveness and animation until her uncle dragged himself back from his thoughts and spoke. Then the merry smile slid from her face.

He pushed his coffee cup to one side and leaned his bulk over the table towards Carol to say with a businesslike air, 'I'll be leaving for Venice in half an hour, so I'd better brief you on your duties.'

Stephanie didn't bother to hide her disappointment. She jumped up and frowned, 'Oh, Gray I Can't you stay here? It's only a fifteen-minute boat ride to Venice.'

Gray Barrett looked impatient. 'I'm a busy man, Stephanie,' he clipped.

Carol looked down at her shoes. How many times had she heard that in the past couple of days?

'I've got more to do than zip back and forth in a boat,' he went on testily. 'Miss Lindley here will see , to all your requirements. I'll make a trip over at the first available opportunity. Now it's time you were in bed.'

'Yes, Gray.' Stephanie's bright little face seemed to drop into the shadows as she nodded obediently. 'Goodnight.' She raised a hand and trying to catch his eye with her own fading light of eagerness she waved at him, then turning she walked slowly away.

Gray Barrett lowered his head immediately and got straight down to the business of money. 'Your wages will be banked for you in England,' he told Carol. 'Naturally you'll require pocket money and expenses while you're here. I've made arrangements at the reception desk for you to draw a weekly amount to cover this. Stephanie has her own pocket money. She knows she need only call at the desk when she wants more.' He shifted his frame and went on, 'Your duties are straightforward enough. You're to see that my niece continues to live the protected life she's been used to, in and around the hotel. I will arrange whatever trips I consider necessary when I come over. I think that's all.' He turned then to fix Carol with his piercing brown gaze, 'Except for one thing. While I'm away Stephanie will be your responsibility. I shall rely on you completely to see that no harm befalls her during her stay in Italy. Is that clear?'

'Yes,' Carol replied in a small voice.

'Good. Then I'll say goodnight.' They rose together.

About to move off, Gray Barrett turned back for a moment to add, 'I have, of course, left my Venice address at the desk should you wish to contact me at any time....'

He left the remark hanging, but as far as Carol was concerned he didn't have to continue. As she watched his brusque frowning departure she could almost hear him saying that he was a busy man and he would rather not be bothered. With a last curt nod he preceded her out of the lounge and disappeared.

Carol walked slowly out herself and took the lift up to the apartment. All was in darkness. As she stole past Stephanie's bedroom she saw the dim shape of her in bed. Though Carol too was ready for sleep she went to sit out on one of the balconies. She felt she needed a few moments to accustom herself to the enormity of her task. For the truth of the matter was that now that her work had really started she was assailed by all kinds of misgivings.

She had never been abroad in her life. Now here she was abandoned on her first night in Italy, with the niece of a very strict uncle, in her total care.

She swallowed worriedly and looked out to where the stars winked over the gardens. She only hoped she could do justice to the job.

A sound on the lamplit road below caught her attention. Outside the entrance to the hotel a porter was carrying luggage out to a waiting car. Carol was in time to see the shadowy figure of Gray Barrett striding out behind it. She watched him settle his bulk into the car and close the door after him. As it pulled slowly away from the kerb a sudden feeling of dejection swept over her.

It was strange. She had had to suffer his bombastic orders and irritableness ever since they had started out. She ought to have been only too glad to see the back of him. And yet as she watched him disappear into the night she felt oddly alone, almost desolate.

CHAPTER SIX

MORNING came with the tumultuous sound of traffic on the road alongside the Albany. Motor-scooters tore by. Taxis whooshed along in both directions. The chugging of motor-cycle delivery vans swinging into the smaller hotels intermingled with the tinkle of bells and steady clip-clop of horse-drawn tourist conveyances. All was gaiety and bustle, as though someone had pressed a switch and the world had suddenly sprung to life.

Away from the road on the other side of the hotel, smudges of snowy white cloud were pasted to a vivid blue sky, and the sea, beyond the tropical greenery of the gardens, was white-capped and boisterous. Even at this hour the faint laughing crescendo of sound could be heard from the miles of beach.

Standing on the balcony, a cotton negligee thrown round her, Carol inhaled deliciously, smitten already by this Italian zest for living. She couldn't think now why she had been seized by worry last night. This was a job in a million. So long as they were here, all that she and Stephanie had to do was enjoy themselves. What could be simpler, or more agreeable, than that? In high spirits she went off to dress.

As the morning promised to be hot she donned her vivid yellow slacks and a brief white sun top. Stephanie followed her into the bathroom to shower and dress, choosing violent pink trousers and a brilliantly flowered sun top.

They took their time adding the finishing touches. There was no watching the clock this morning, no precise time by which they must present themselves downstairs. Carol found it rather fun, being able to please herself.

After preening on and off before their mirrors, and experimenting with different types of footwear, they finally decided that they were ready, and locking the door of the apartment behind them took the lift downstairs.

The outdoors appeared even more scintillating from ground level. The black and white umbrellas looked as fresh as new paint against the blue of the sky. The leaves of the slender chestnut trees lining the dining terrace shimmered in the sparkling air. Both girls agreed that it would be pleasant to breakfast outside.

At a table overlooking the gardens they were served with coffee and rolls and lemon-flower jam. The sun was warm on their shoulders as they attacked the crisp golden twists of bread with the specially shaped knives. Stephanie seemed in a cheerful frame of mind. Apparently she had got over her disappointment of last night when she had unsuccessfully begged her uncle to stay.

During the meal Carol decided that the best way to keep up this happy state of affairs was simply to fall in with the younger girl's wishes as far as it was possible to do so.

After breakfast they explored the gardens and the hotel. They found the tennis courts and toured the pool and flicked a ball back and forth in the table tennis rooms. From the foyer posters they discovered that there was a weekly candlelight gala dinner, and dancing two evenings a week in the space adjoining the main lounge.

In the afternoon Stephanie chose to go to the beach. They put on their gayest bathing outfits, packed their beach bags and scuffed along the sun-dappled paths towards that rising murmur of sound.

The sea had settled down a lot since the morning. Ruffled only at the edge now, the sun caught the crystal sparkle of its gently lapping waves. The hotel section of the beach was fairly well populated. Stephanie chose a couple of sun beds on a vacant patch of sand. They dumped their things, discarded their sandals and prepared to enjoy the sun.

Part of the time they spent splashing and swimming in the water, the rest they sat or stretched out and watched the life around them. For Carol it could have been a perfect afternoon but for one thing.

On this their first day together, she noticed with a mild sense of shock that Stephanie seemed to have quite an eye for the boys. Carol could well remember her own giggly first stirrings as a fifteen-year-old, but Stephanie's approach was almost frighteningly grown up. With her neat little figure, already turning gold, her cascading dark hair and liquid brown eyes, she was quite lovely in a girlish way. And she made the most of it.

Her glances at the bronze-skinned youths and young men who happened to be near at the time had open invitation in them. Her laughter, when her small white teeth showed to perfection, was always aimed at them.

Fortunately the clientele at the Albany was made up mostly of cultured Italian families. The young men therefore were very mindful of their position in life and seemed in no way inclined to look further than their own aristocratic group.

Thankful for this, Carol turned a blind eye to Stephanie's flirtatious mood. Luckily she could afford to be more amused by it than concerned.

Towards seven o'clock they made their way back to the hotel. They were ravenous, and after bathing and changing they went down to dinner, enjoying the best in Italian cooking on the tastefully-lit dining terrace.

The day had been a pleasurable one, Carol liked to think. She and Stephanie seemed to get on well together. The only moment of discord between them had been an incident during the morning.

Realising that she would first of all need Italian money, Carol had gone to see the receptionist at the desk as Gray Barrett had instructed her to. She was amazed at the amount she was handed, for she had already learned the value of the lire by comparing prices ih the hotel shops. She was sure that such a large quantity of money would cover their expenses for a month, rather than a week.

When she had stuffed the notes into her handbag her first thoughts had been for her family and the postcards that would let them know she had arrived in Italy safe and sound. She bought half a dozen colourful scenes of the Venice Lido at the foyer kiosk and stopped to write them at the little desk provided.

While she was scribbling, Stephanie stood over her watching the flying pen. The younger girl noted the numbers of cards and with cool offhandedness she asked, 'Do you have many brothers and sisters?'

'Dozens,' Carol laughed. Though she had meant it only as a joke because of the pile of cards she had to wade through, Stephanie's face pinched up small and tight and she carped, 'Well, there's no need to be so smug about it!'

Carol was immediately contrite. She smiled and said pleasantly, 'I'm sorry. I didn't mean to sound smug.'

The incident passed off, and thinking about it now as they sipped their coffee together under the stars Carol shelved it as something she could forget. But this didn't prove to be the case with Stephanie. Later, when they were upstairs in the apartment, the girl found a way to edge round to the subject again.

They had changed into their night attire and Carol was fiddling with her hair before her mirror. Stephanie, looking dark and pretty in a short broderie anglaise nightgown patterned with strawberries, had drifted in to, finger Carol's possessions around the room before flopping idly on to her bed. She lay on her tummy swinging her legs, watching the performance before the mirror for long enough. Then she said casually, 'Who's the oldest in your family?'

'I am,' Carol replied, remembering not to be facetious this time. 'Clive is my twin brother, but I was born three minutes before he was,' she added with impish satisfaction.

Stephanie digested this in silence. She swung her brown gaze away from Carol and studied the border of the counterpane in her fingers. Then she let herself - A ask, 'And what about the others?'

'Well,' Carol went on chattily, only too happy to encourage any kind of conversation, 'there's Peter. He's two years younger than us. Sandra's fourteen, and Steve's twelve. Then there's my two younger sisters, Deborah and Sue.'

'How old are they?' Stephanie tried to give the appearance of being only mildly interested, but it was obvious that she was soaking up the information avidly.

'Debbie's nine and Sue's six.' Carol twisted another smooth coil of hair into an elastic band.

'That makes seven of you,' the voice was figuring behind her. 'Then there's your mother and father.'

'Nine in all,' Carol winced laughingly. 'You should see us when we're all sat down at the table together!'

Stephanie made no comment to this. She seemed to have retired behind that air of frigidity which sometimes came over her. A little while later she said goodnight and went to her room.

The following afternoon they walked in the locality around the hotel. The long straight main road which ran through the centre of the island was lined with souvenir shops, cafes, boutiques, raffia and jewellery stalls and endless ice cream bars which displayed all kinds of wonderful concoctions in glass cases.

Though everything was comparatively quiet in the heat of the day, there was fun to be had. The girls were fascinated by the rows of colourful canopied swing seats outsidfc every cafe. They kept on buying drinks just so that they could sink down and kick the dust from their shoes and rock back and forth dreamily in the drowsiness of the afternoon.

They.learned to ask for caffd latte, coffee with milk, and limonata, lemonade, and learned how to tip without paying too much.

In the evening at their table on the terrace, Stephanie ordered a bottle of wine to go with their meal. With that childishly imperious manner of hers, which she could summon up at a moment's notice, she caught the waiter as he was passing and calmly told him to bring a bottle of bordolino.

Carol was taken unawares. She watched as Stephanie poured the light ruby red liquid into her glass, and asked, 'Do you think your uncle would approve?'

'Gray isn't here,' Stephanie said simply.

On Tuesday night there was dancing at the hotel. Stephanie had spent most of the day preparing for it. When they went down at a lateish hour to where the strains of the music drifted out across the foyer, she was looking her best in an expensively tailored pastel- coloured dress. Her dark hair was wavy and silken. Swept back from her face in a pale hairband, it showed to perfection her honey-toned classic features.

Carol was too conscious of her responsibilities as chaperon to bother much about her own appearance. She wore a simple linen dress and her hair was pale on her shoulders. She couldn't think what harm there would be in Stephanie dancing in their own hotel, but she felt easier taking a back seat away from the dance floor so that she could keep her eye on things unobtrusively.

Stephanie, completely at ease, drifted where the lights were brighter and soon she had a partner, the first of many throughout the evening.

The chandeliers above the dance area were heavy and golden. The orchestra was dressed formally in white tie and cherry-suited tails. The various young men who danced with Stephanie moved with aristocratic grace and held her in a proper, aloof way.

In the shadows Carol sat back and relaxed smilingly.

While they were at the Hotel Albany, what did she have to worry about?

Time passed. The days took on a rhythm—swimming, sunbathing. Dining on the terrace when the weather was warm. Shopping in the nearby tourist area, and occasionally hiring racquets for a game of tennis.

After the long hours out of doors the late evenings became the time for gossip. Stephanie, her hair washed and coiled in a towel or some new skin cream pasted on her face, would drift in and claim Carol's bed and ask her what she thought of this colour nail varnish, or that new brand of shampoo. With Carol idly brushing her hair before the mirror, or smoothing her lashes, they would air their opinions in this field before moving on to discussing the events of the day, or their plans for the morrow. But these were just the preliminaries. Nearly always Stephanie would manage to steer the conversation round to her pet subject—Carol's family.

One evening, lying in her favourite position, her elbows propping up her chin and her feet circulating the air, she asked out of the blue, 'Would your brother Clive like me, do you think?'

'Clive?' Carol swung her surprised smile up from the press stud she was re-stitching on her nightdress case. 'He hasn't shown much interest in girls up to now,' she replied truthfully, and with a rueful grimace. 'He's mad on anything mechanical.'

'What does he do?' Stephanie asked dreamily.

'He works at the aircraft factory with my father,' Carol turned her smile down at the corners again, 'but he says he'd rather fly planes than make them.'

'Is he like you?' The question was asked musingly.

'Not very much. He's quite a bit taller.'

'I expect Peter's nice, isn't he?' the voice mused on from the bed.

'For a brother I suppose he'll do,' Carol twinkled.

To the query, 'Is he going to work in the aircraft factory too?' she replied, 'I doubt it. He likes school. I think he's trying to get to university.'

'Peter's seventeen, isn't he? He would like me. I would be just right for him. I'm fifteen and he's seventeen.' Dreamily Stephanie turned on her back and gazed at the ceiling, lost in her own thoughts.

Another evening when she had spent the time asking questions about Carol's younger brothers and sisters, and listening to the antics they got up to, Stephanie, who seemed to revert to her frigid mood, asked suddenly, 'What's your mother like?'

'Oh, small and plump,' Carol shrugged with an affectionate gleam. 'I'm more like my father. He's fair and on the lean side.'

'My mother's beautiful.' Stephanie rose from the bed and floated around with a superior air. 'She and my father run a nightclub in Beirut. She wears fabulous gowns and she dances all the time. I expect when I've finished school she'll take me out there and I'll dance all the time at their nightclub!' This said, she tilted her well scrubbed little features and made an airy exit.

It was two weeks before Gray Barrett put in an appearance at the hotel. He turned up one evening when the girls were returning from the beach.

It had been a particularly merry afternoon with Stephanie in one of her carefree moods, and the girls had taunted each other playfully in and out of the sea. At last Carol had showered off carefully ready for going back to the hotel to dress for dinner. Just when she was free of sand, Stephanie had grabbed a handful and tossed it over her. To get her own back Carol had turned the shower head full on her tormentor and then fled for her life.

Her legs were longer than Stephanie's and she was soon halfway through the gardens. But gasping laughingly, and feeling far from safe, she kept glancing back breathlessly to catch sight of her pursuer.

The path wound through clumps of dwarf palms, star-shaped cactus, crowds of trailing green trees and flowers all overlooked by giant chestnuts and pines. „ The evening sun was slanting away, leaving the gardens in dappled gloom. Intent on one thing, getting to the hotel first, Carol crashed on. With her glance behind her most of the time, and her own laughter drowning out the sound of footsteps, it was inevitable that she should collide headlong with the big shape rounding the leathery leaves of a ficus tree.

Winded and weak with the giggles, Carol could do nothing at first except teeter in the arms of the man who had caught her. That was until she saw who it was. As recognition slowly dawned on her whirling senses... those heavy frowning features, the big shoulders ... she plucked herself away from him hastily. Her laughter died in her throat behind a furious rush of colour as she stammered, 'I'm ... terribly sorry... I was—I didn't see you coming.'

She looked apologetically at where her wet sandy frame had left its damp imprint on his dark grey suit.

'It might help if you were to look where you were going.' Gray Barrett brushed himself off with a sour smile. In that moment Stephanie came hurtling round the bend.

'Gray I' Her eyes shining at the sight of him, she pulled herself up to gasp delightedly, 'When did you arrive?'

'About half an hour ago,' her uncle replied drily amidst a fresh spray of sand and sea water. 'You were nowhere in the hotel, so I gathered you were still out here somewhere.'

Stephanie skipped alongside him as he walked, gaily oblivious to her dripping figure and tousled hair. Carol slid silently at the side trying to make herself look as small as she felt after her rather irresponsible performance just now. Damp and tanned, her hair trailing in wet strands on her shoulders and scuffing along in single toe-strap mules, she had a feeling that in the role of level-headed chaperone she had gone down another rung in Gray Barrett's estimation.

'I've been going through the list of excursions,' he said in his clipped tones as they approached the hotel. 'Venice, I think, would be a suitable outing to start with. I've booked three tickets for the day trip tomorrow.'

'Oh, Gray!' Stephanie's face went pale with disappointment as she looked up at him. She edged as close to him as she dared in her wet state and hinted, 'Couldn't we just laze round the hotel, while you're here?'

'I came over to give you a change of scene,' he said crisply. 'Venice is full of historical interest. It would be foolish not to take advantage of these guided tours while you're in Italy.'

'Yes, Gray,' Stephanie nodded meekly as they padded into the foyer. Towels wrapped around them, they scuffed away towards the lift after his order that they were to be down on the stroke of eight for dinner.

As she bathed and changed upstairs Carol nursed a bubbling excitement at the thought of Venice tomorrow. Though she knew Stephanie was blas£ about travel, having done plenty of it in her young lifetime, for herself she couldn't wait to get a closer look at the romantic city across the water.

At a minute to eight they went out to the lift. In the process of dressing Carol had been at pains to present a picture of poise and maturity. She wore a severe brown dress with cream lace collar and cuffs, little knowing that it only enhanced her girlish grace. Stephanie, secure in the knowledge that she would be dining with her uncle, looked vivacious and radiant in coffee- coloured nylon.

Gray Barrett was striding around the foyer impatiently. There was no table on the terrace tonight for the girls. He led the way automatically to the indoor restaurant populated by the elderly gentlemen of the hotel and their ladies in their camphor-scented gowns. The younger set, and the more adventurous, preferred - to dine out under the stars.

They were shown to their usual table and Gray Barrett ordered for the three of them. The waiter was different from the one the girls were used to smiling and chatting to on the terrace. He went away after seeing them settled and returned a few minutes later. Carol knew an icy horror when she saw what he was carrying in his hand.

Any extra luxury requested on the tables was labelled with the client's room number in case it was intended to be consumed at more than one meal. Carol remembered now that they had been halfway through a bottle of Chianti at dinner last night. She had long since succumbed to the idea of Stephanie filling her glass with the sparkling liquid too. Well, what harm was there in taking a little wine with a meal? Unfortunately both girls had forgotten that what they had left on the table last night would be brought out again to them this evening, and before Carol's very eyes the waiter swept in, obligingly uncorked the bottle of Chianti and proceeded to fill the girls' glasses.

Carol shrank in her seat. Stephanie, perhaps even more aware of her uncle's stiffening jaw, admitted with tilted chin and an over-bright gaze, 'I ordered it, Gray.'

'I'm not aware that a fifteen-year-old is in a position to order wine or anything else.' Gray Barrett fixed his eagle eye on Carol. As she sank beneath a blaze of colour, only too conscious of her incompetence, he clipped, 'Bring some mineral water, Pietro.'

'Si, signore' The waiter, happily unaware of the fluster he had caused, sailed away and returned with a bottle of sparkling San Pellegrino. Gray Barrett ordered a Volpolicella wine for himself and thankfully the meal was got through without further incident.

For coffee Stephanie led the way optimistically across the foyer and into the lounge She chose one of the bamboo screened-off sections and plumped down, full of chatter about the past fortnight and the things they had done to pass the time.

In his armchair Gray Barrett pulled on his cigarette and drank his coffee and gave the appearance of listening, but it wasn't difficult to see that his mind was on other things. Across from him, Carol sat in her armchair and gazed down at her coffee as she sipped it.

They retired early, Gray Barrett rising and pointing out in his taciturn way that it would be as well for them to get plenty of sleep in readiness for the excursion the following morning.

At ten o'clock in bright sunshine they went to join the rest of the crowd from the Albany and other nearby hotels who had booked for the day trip to Venice. Stephanie, having resigned herself to the tour, was looking pertly attractive in a royal blue sun dress which showed to perfection her honey-gold arms and complexion. Carol, her blue eyes sparkling with anticipation, had chosen an apple-green sun dress, decorated with white piping. Gray Barrett wore one of his inevitable dark business suits, although Carol noticed that once out on the forecourt of the hotel where the sun was at its hottest he frowningly removed his jacket and folded it over his arm.

As they stood lined up ready to take the coach to the landing stage Carol found herself completely fascinated by the little man who was to be their guide for the day. His name was Aniello and he was no more than five foot two and balding, but his smile was big, his back and shoulders were straight and he moved with the pride and flair of a dashing cavalry officer.

Radiating a dynamic personality, he told everyone in his quaintly expressed English to stick together and to keep their eye on him at all times throughout the tour. Then with his jolly air he led the way on to the coach.

In with the rest of the holidaymakers, Gray Barrett ushered the girls on in front of him. It was but a few minutes' ride to the landing stage. Here he shepherded _ them ahead of him on to the launch, saw that they had a seat, then engrossed himself in the guidebook that he was carrying.

As they started off Carol didn't know how he could bear to just stand and stare at the printed word when there was all this fabulous scenery to be noted. She reminded herself that he had done this trip twice already and was probably familiar with the island of San Giorgio and the church and campanile, which Aniello was pointing out in his rich tones for everyone's benefit.

Carol was still gazing back in wide-eyed awe at the magnificent domes and pillared construction when the launch bumped to a halt at the Venice landing stage. Everyone crowded on to the wide promenade where tall stately buildings rubbed shoulders with shabby pastel- tinted exteriors. This was the Riva degli Schiavoni, Aniello told his group, as he herded them into a cluster with his outstretched arm and hand holding his sheaf of notes, then led the way two yards in front like a drum- major at the head of a parade.

As the knot of people followed obediently they were told to look right when they crossed the first canal bridge to see the Bridge of Sighs. Carol couldn't wait to get there. She almost fell up the steps over the canal, so intent on craning her neck to gaze along the stretch of water flanked on either side by sombre buildings. Well, It didn't seem all that special! Just a stone arch spanning the water, with fancy brickwork and a couple of tiny grille-faced windows looking out over the canal. But Aniello made it live when he described how the prisoners crossing over from the Doge's Palace to the prison building would sigh as they looked out on the city of Venice for the last time.

Carpi stared at the bridge with renewed interest. So that was how it got its name I Her eyes danced. The things she was going to be able to tell the family when she got back!

So taken up was she with her surroundings that she didn't realise that the little guide was marching on and his flock of tourists following meekly behind. Stephanie, listening mechanically to Aniello's resonant tones, was straggling to one side.

It was Gray Barrett who brought all this to Carol's notice. Falling back, he scooped her along with him impatiently. He said to her coldly, though she noticed that he was looking at everything and constantly referring to his guide book, 'Please remember, Miss Lindley, your first consideration is Stephanie. Venice is full of tourists. She could easily miss us.'

Carol nodded mutely and stumbled hurriedly alongside him. But nothing could douse the smiling eagerness in her as she gazed around. Gray Barrett was all prepared to return to his printed description of the city, but somehow he didn't seem to be able to remove his critical gaze from Carol's sparkling awareness as quickly as he would have liked. He forgot his list of churches and famous places and pointing ahead said brusquely, 'We're coming up to St Mark's Square. You'll be able to see the Piazzetta and the Basilica San Marco.'

'Oh!' Carol gave a gasp of delight. She had no idea what these places were, but they sounded wonderful. And for some reason, because Gray Barrett had put himself out to mention them to her, she felt strangely light-hearted, and her eyes held a new sunny glow.

Past two monolithic columns on the waterfront, one with a winged lion on top and one with a robed figure holding a stick, Aniello led them into the square. Here Carol struggled to keep up with his fast-flowing spiel on the Doge's Palace, St Mark's Cathedral, the Campanile and goodness knows what else. She caught snatches of description... Byzantine mosaic... Greek horses beaten from copper ... and heard all about the Zodiac clock and its two bronze giants who for five hundred years had struck every hour.

They saw the golden staircase in the Doge's Palace, a „ breathtaking sight, and the old library with its beautiful interior decoration. There were groups of tourists being led by guides everywhere. Carol, remembering what she had been told, stuck close to Stephanie. Stephanie, thoroughly bored by this time, stuck close to her uncle, who in turn stuck close to his guide book plus the learned words of Aniello.

The little guide's chat was humorous and entertaining, and Carol was far too dazzled at what she was looking at to give the other two in her party more than a thread of her attention. She was only vaguely aware that Gray Barrett, seemingly in tune with her lively, receptive mood, would occasionally bring himself down to her level and gruffly point out an extra item of interest.

When they went up the campanile towering over St Mark's Square and looked out on the fabulously clear day over unforgettable views of Venice, he said suddenly, bending close, 'Look, you can see the Alps.'

Carol, gazing to where his firm brown hand pointed away in the distance to pearl-misted peaks, felt that if she saw any more she would burst.

For lunch Aniello led them proudly through a labyrinth of narrow streets off the square to a restaurant with an eighteenth-century setting. Carol had langouste; Stephanie chose a pasta dish, the same as her uncle.

Aniello disappeared, presumably to re-charge himself for the afternoon session, when they were to see the riverside palaces, the Rialto bridge and the street markets. He reappeared at three o'clock and for the next three hours valiantly maintained his pace and his humorous flow of conversation.

Oitf of all that she saw in the afternoon, Carol was overwhelmed by the Venetian glassware in the market.

It was the loveliest coloured and most exquisitely shaped glass she had seen in her life. For long enough she hung about a stall of elegant figurines, and Stephanie, for once enchanted herself at the dazzling array, clung to her side sharing her pleasure and watching her expectantly.

At one time, answering the younger girl's questioning look, Carol admitted timidly, 'Oh, I'd love to buy a gift here for my mother. Would your uncle have enough money on him, do you think?'

Knowing that he had forbidden them to bring their handbags for fear of pickpockets, Stephanie gave her a push and said, eager to see a sale, 'Well, go and ask him.'

Carol was seized with shyness. Though she had spent the best part of the day in Gray Barrett's company, it hadn't melted her awe of him. She shuffled up to where he was giving a beaten copper plaque his critical attention, and croaked out her request.

From his height, Gray Barrett lowered an ear to her faint words in the clamour and commotion around them. Then, training his glance over the glassware stalls, he shook his head and told her briskly, 'All this is sub-standard stock. For the genuine article you want the shops around St Mark's Square.'

Carol looked back in disappointment at the stall. She couldn't see any flaws in the elegant figurines and she doubted whether her mother would have done, and she knew the shops in St Mark's Square were fantastically expensive. But she daren't argue with that piercing gaze fixed on her.

Dusk was settling over the Rialto district. She forgot all about the glassware a few minutes later when Aniello came bustling in to inform his flock that they were going for refreshments and then a gondola ride to round off the day.

Stephanie's face dropped when she heard the guide's words. She looked up at her uncle while the group were shuffling together and pleaded, 'Oh, Gray, do we have to? Couldn't we just go wandering off on our own for the last hour?'

Hemmed in close to Stephanie's uncle and looking up at him too, Carol held her breath. To come to Venice and not go in a gondola! The idea was unthinkable. With her eager blue gaze watching him intently Gray Barrett paused for several moments. Then he flicked his glance over Stephanie. 'It's paid for,' he said drily, and with his usual acerbity. 'Also you'll learn more from a gondola trip than you will wandering af a loose end in the streets.'

It was almost dark when everyone lined up alongside a tiny landing stage where a tongue of water at the end of a narrow canal licked over a stretch of earthy sand. The gondolas, long slim shapes with curled up ends like the toe of a mandarin's slipper, held about half a dozen people.

There was much commotion amongst the tourist group because friends and families didn't want to be split up. Often Aniello had to go touting up and down the line looking for a single person to fill an odd seat. Carol considered that her party were lucky, for when their turn came she and Stephanie and Gray Barrett were grouped off with a family threesome, so there were no problems.

Getting into the gondola was tricky. With the rising tide it bobbed about like a cork and one had to step up over the high curled prow and scramble down into sort of padded makeshift armchairs that were scattered about.

Chuckling delightedly, the family threesome went in first. Gray Barrett stood aside and gave them a hand up. Then he swung Stephanie in. Carol was taller and not so nimble on her feet, and the wild rocking of the boat with all the others scrambling drunkenly for seats didn't help. She didn't see how she could possibly set foot on the bouncing craft without tipping head first into the water.

She took so long that by this time Gray Barrett had climbed aboard himself. He looked back at her stranded and reached out, gingering her up with his impatient look to tell her, 'Take my hand. You're perfectly safe.'

Carol did as she was ordered, but she knew her limitations better than he. Though he held her hand like a vice as she jumped she knew she couldn't possibly keep her balance on the sloping ramp where they were both perched. To save herself from taking a ducking she clung to him as though he was a long-lost friend. Fleetingly she felt the brush of his stern jaw against her cheek.

Fortunately all this time the gondolier, a swarthy figure in black and white striped tee-shirt and flapping trousers, had been holding the craft as steady as he could with his long pole. Beside her on the ramp he also gave her a hand to keep her balance so she was able to laugh the whole thing off and stumble down into the boat to find a place.

Stephanie was hanging about waiting to see where she was going to sit. Together they took the two seats looking out over the side of the gondola. Carol was too flustered to notice where Gray Barrett was sitting. Vaguely she was aware that he was somewhere at the stern of the boat.

It was now quite dark and once they had pushed off away from the lights of the boarding platform there was nothing to be seen but the little lanterns at the bow and stern of the gondola and the black glittering strip of canal ahead of them.

The route, as they slid along, was hardly wider than a pavement walk. The only noise was the water lapping against the houses. Aniello had told them all about the old days when the nobles were rowed out on the sultry summer evenings and to break the monotony the gondoliers sang over the silent waters of the lagoon. So it was no surprise when their own boatman began to sing softly.

There was nothing embarrassing about the sound. He had a mellow tenor voice which washed over the moss-draped time-worn buildings as naturally as the lapping waves and the warm night breezes.

In this way they slid noiselessly through the blackness, meetings at corners with other gondoliers singing other songs, and eventually joining a caravan of gondolas illuminated with Japanese lanterns.

The highlight of the trip, as far as Carol was concerned, was when they were gliding along a narrow lane and came upon the sound of music. It was a fairytale scene. Great arched windows of a sixteenth-century palace were opened to the night and in a red and gilded ballroom lit with hundreds of glowing candles, they could see elegantly dressed men and women dancing and drinking champagne.

Outside the palace, the small square at the side was alive with people listening to the music. The young were dancing to the strains of a waltz.

Carol's enraptured gaze was still lit by the glow of all she had seen long after, when they had left the gondolas and were lined up on the Riva degli Schiavoni ready for the return journey to the Lido. Beside the reflected lights glistening on the black waters of the lagoon Aniello, not in any way jaded by his long day, was striding round checking his flock.

At the landing stage Gray Barrett ushered the girls towards the launch in with the rest of the group, making it clear that he wouldn't be returning to the hotel with them.

Looking back now on the excitement of the day, Carol was only too aware that once again she had flopped badly in the role of cool composed chaperone. No doubt these were Gray Barrett's thoughts too. She hadn't missed his hawk eye on her laughing exhilara- t'on throughout the day. And she could feel his brown eves, now, raking her starry-eyed look. Obviously he didn't think she was capable of getting herself and Stephanie back to the hotel without help, for she saw him having one of his stern words with Aniello, and she saw the little guide smile reassuringly and nod in their direction.

He waited until the launch was underway, then, his big dark shape silhouetted on the quay, Gray Barrett turned and moved off.

Over the next few days Carol set herself about the task of keeping Stephanie occupied, with renewed vigour. Though she herself had returned glowing-eyed from the Venice trip she knew that the outing had been no more than a series of disappointments for the younger girl.

Often during that day, when they had been in the midst of the guided tour, Carol had noticed Stephanie trying to catch her uncle's eye, reaching out to take his arm, or chattering across the print in his guide book in an attempt to share his interest. But he had been as aware of her as he was the other thirty or forty-odd tourists around him.

Almost ashamed now of the wonderful day she had had herself, Carol was seized with a desire to give her attention wholeheartedly to her young charge. They romped on the beach, threw themselves around the tennis courts, sampled the pool, and tried every swing seat in the caf£s around the hotel.

The one gay adventure they couldn't indulge in any more was taking wine with their evening meal. They didn't know what orders Stephanie's uncle had given the staff, but no matter whether they sat on the dining terrace or in the indoor resturant, whenever they asked for the wine list the waiter always turned a smiling deaf ear and brought mineral water.

Carol didn't only make herself pleasant during the day. In the evenings too, upstairs in their rooms, she set herself out to be as entertaining as possible.

Lying on her bed, her chin on her elbows, Stephanie listened spellbound to Carol's stories describing the escapades of the various members of her family.

When that subject had been exhausted she went on, to describe the rest of the odd residents in their house. 'You ought to see Mrs Ritz,' she grimaced humorously one evening, rubbing the towel over her damp hair. 'She's an Austrian countess really, but she's been in England for years. She lives in the room next to the phone alcove and she hates being disturbed.'

'What does she do?' Stephanie asked, her brown eyes misty with interest.

'She paints,' Carol smiled, and hastened to add, 'Oh, her pictures are quite good, but she's terribly eccentric I She's fat and grey-haired and sometimes she goes about for days in a soiled old dressing gown, her hair standing on end like an old witch. We've seen her because her room has a door opening on to the garden at the back and she goes out and slings her tea-leaves across the lawn.'

They both laughed at this, then Carol went on, taking up the brush to her hair, 'But when she decides to go out you wouldn't believe she was the same person. She comes out of her room dressed very smartly— she wears a lot of deep purples and dark maroons—a little hat perched on her head, tripping out to the taxi she's ordered. The awful thing is she's got a fat old face and a big mouth and she will slash bright red lipstick right across it.'

Stephanie rolled on to her back in a fit of the giggles and Carol finished off musing, 'But she's really quite a dear. When she's in a good mood she asks my mother if she can take one of the younger children out for a treat, and they go to town and sit in the Cadena Cafe and drink hot chocolate.'

'I wouldn't fancy that,' Stephanie flopped back on to her elbows and pulled a face. Her eyes were washed with laughter as she asked, 'Are there are more weirdies?'

'The house is full of them,' Carol joked, sitting down at her dressing table. 'There's Miss Pitt. She lives on the first floor. She had an operation on her knee when she was younger and now she walks with a stiff leg. She's an awful busybody—she stands with her door open a few inches and listens to what's going on downstairs. And then there's Miss Gosling.' Twinkling, Carol fastened her hair in elastic bands. 'She's a retired nurse and she lives in the turret room at the top of the house. We hardly ever see her, but if she catches one of us along the road she talks and talks and we can never get away from her.'

And so the chat went on until both were sleepy and ready to turn out the lights for bed.

Neither expected to see Gray Barrett for at least another two weeks, so it was a surprise to them when he turned up one evening only ten days later.

They had just come from dinner and were going through into the lounge when they saw him talking at the reception desk. Stephanie gave a gasp of pleasure at the sight of him. Carol could only think that she must be smitten by the younger girl's high spirits. Why else should she feel something like a burst of sunshine inside her when she gazed on those stern tyrannical features?

Gray Barrett gave them only a cursory glance as they came up and Stephanie's happiness was soon deflated when she saw that he was in the middle of booking places for an excursion the following day.

'We're in luck,' he said as though he had left them only a couple of hours before. 'There's a steamer trip tomorrow to the islands in the lagoon. The trouble is,' he nodded to where Alberto the receptionist was talking on the phone in his rapid Italian, 'I'm having a job to get the tickets so late in the day.' He glanced at. his watch, decided it was time the girls were in bed and told them as they moved obediently towards the lift, 'Be down in good time for breakfast. We can sort out the details for the trip then!'The girls found out soon enough the next day what the details were. The steamer would be calling at the islands of Burano, Murano and Torcello, and their names plus Gray Barrett's had been included in with the usual contingent of tourists booked with the Albany Hotel.

As everyone lined up to be checked over before starting out Stephanie put on a brave face for what she considered a boring event. Carol felt for her, but she couldn't adopt her blasé attitude. She was thrilled to pieces at the idea of visiting the islands and she didn't care who knew it.

Unfortunately it was true that, once the day got underway, her excitement at the scenery tended to make her lose sight of her duties concerning Stephanie. Oh, she did try to mend her ways, several times! But there was always a breathtaking vista, or a fascinating commotion somewhere to take her mind off her work.

Luckily for her Gray Barrett didn't seem to notice her slipshod methods. Or if he did he was prepared to overlook them while he was pointing out to her in his gruff way some scene that she and Stephanie might have missed.

And what scenes there were! Sleepy meadows, and vineyards and salt water creeks. Peasant houses and antique churches and canals where one could walk through the tall grass and where there were only water insects and long-legged birds to break the silence.

The people of the islands were lean and handsome. Barefoot fishermen returned with their boats. Farmers tilled the muddy fertile silt from flat-bottomed dinghies. And there were the lace-makers, beautiful olive-skinned girls and black-robed wives working sedately over their hard melon-shaped cushions.

There was Romano's, the restaurant on Burano, and the mellow picturesque old buildings of Torcello, which Coral couldn't get enough of even when, at the close of the day, they sailed away leaving the medieval shapes shot with the red and gold of sunset.

After the steamer cruise Gray Barrett fell into the habit of dropping in at the hotel regularly once a week. Stephanie ceased to complain at the outings he arranged for her benefit. She was seeing more of him than she had ever expected to do, and though her happiness was dulled a little at having to share him with thirty or forty other trippers, it was at least apparent.

Carol was glad of this. She couldn't help being in the seventh heaven herself at seeing all there was to see around Venice. Often, to help Stephanie to appreciate the idea of travel, she would try and inject some of her own bubbling enthusiasm into the day. Sometimes it went amiss.

In Verona they were almost left behind by the coach when they explored the Roman arena. And they had to hurry to catch up to the others when they browsed too long in the arcaded streets of Padua.

Carol was always expecting the wrath of Gray Barrett to fall on her head, but as he was alongside them most of the time she liked to think it was as much his fault as hers if they got into a scrape. Perhaps he thought so too. In any case she didn't have to suffer the bite of his tongue too often, and she learned to laugh away the feel of his brown eyes with their strange flinty light resting on her during her carefree moments.

There was a varied assortment of guides to conduct these tours from the hotel. To Carol's disappointment they didn't see much of Aniello, for his territory was Venice.

However, one day towards the middle of August, their guide on the trip Gray Barrett had booked for, Bianca, a slim dark girl who always wore heavy sunglasses, was feeling unwell, so the grandiloquent little Italian stepped in to take her place.

It was only a short tour to an adjoining resort, for the main theme of the outing was to be the gala candlelight dinner and dance which followed, but Aniello being Aniello, he made the whole afternoon go with a - swing. When they returned to the Albany in the evening, everyone was in a mood to enjoy the rest of the festivities.

Carol and Stephanie were used to these gala dinners. As they had done several times before, they sat at their table one of dozens of them in the big splendidly festooned restaurant, and made their way through course after course of the finest Italian dishes. The candlelight added a touch of mystery to the scene and the waiters gliding about in maroon and gold jackets were typical of the ceremonial pomp of the Albany.

Carol had chosen a dusky blue dress in pleated nylon. Her hair, silvered by the sun, fell in strands on her shoulders as she bent over her plate. Stephanie's dress was a buttermilk cream and expensively simple. Gray Barrett was wearing his roll-collared dinner jacket.

The waiters would have been happy enough to go on serving all night, but eventually the courses came to an end. People began to transfer to the lounge.

Carol held her breath as they rose from their table. Though Gray Barrett had been in on these festivities before, this was the first time the gala dinner and the dance had coincided. She wondered if he would pack them off to bed as he usually did at this late hour. Perhaps Stephanie feared this too, for she boldly took his arm and led the way across to the lounge as though there was no question of her staying up with him until two or three o'clock in the morning. It looked as though her bluff had worked, for her uncle followed without a word, seemingly intent on finding seats for coffee.

Stephanie made sure she found some near where the dancing was going on; so near in fact that their suite of chesterfields and coffee table was almost on the edge of the dance floor. She settled herself down beside her uncle on the settee and nestled up to him, proud of the way she had used her feminine wiles.

There was no hope of keeping a section to oneself tonight. The hotel was crowded and in the lounge people were flopping down wherever it suited them. As the armchairs beside them were already occupied, Carol had to sit on the settee on the other side of Gray Barrett.

The hotel spared no expense when it came to the gala dance. Great sprays of flowers, streamers and balloons added colour to the already rich ddcor. In the golden glow, people crowded on to the dance floor. The orchestra played popular tunes, interspersed with lilting Italian melodies.

Most of the English-speaking guides were there, standing in a laughing group near by; Tullio, tall and studious-looking, who did the Padua and Choggia tours. Lorenzo and Vittorio who were responsible for the more distant excursions. Bianca was there, smiling but looking pale after her recent indisposition, and of course the diminutive Aniello, who, with his electrifying personality, always kept things on the move. This was his show tonight and he was making sure that everybody joined in the gaiety.

The two girls knew most of the guides at the hotel by this time. Likewise the guides knew all about Stephanie, here for the summer with her companion, and her uncle who came to visit her from time to time. This being the case, Gray Barrett was left undisturbed to drink his coffee and Stephanie was happily able to pour her chatter into his deaf ears.

But that was only until Aniello had got practically everyone on to the dance floor. Then there was no stopping him. Dapper in his somewhat well worn evening suit, he came sweeping up to their settee in his military fashion, and excluding his usual charm hailed them, 'Buona sera, Signor Barrett, signoras. Come vanno le cose? How are things?'

Firm friends since the Venice trip, the two men chatted pleasantly for a while before Aniello, looking suitably pained as he watched Gray Barrett pulling - lazily on his cigarette, exclaimed, 'But, signore! To sit at such a time! What a waste!' He turned and with the bunched tips of his fingers, threw a kiss expressively towards the orchestra. 'A waste of beautiful music. In Italy when we hear such a rhapsody we dance.'

As though encouraged by this display, a gentle-eyed Italian boy, standing near by, came up and shyly led Stephanie on to the floor.

At Aniello's whimsical expression Gray Barrett stubbed out his cigarette lengthily, then turned and drawled, 'What about it, Miss Lindley? Shall we risk it?'

Carol's heart flew into her throat at his suggestion. She had been sitting there, quietly enjoying the scene. Now, suddenly, her legs turned to water. Her dance with Gray Barrett? She couldn't.

But she did. A mass of stammers and blushes, she rose and allowed herself to be guided on to the crowded dance floor. Strangely enough from then on everything was all right. She found her height went well with his, and she wasn't as knotted up with shyness as she thought she would have been, when his arm came around her. If anything she experienced a feeling of snug security moving within the curve of his big shoulders amidst the crowd.

He danced as though he had been good at it at one time, but had long since forgotten those days. As she hadn't done an awful lot of it in her time, it was as well he was a little rusty.

She wasn't sure whether he stayed on the floor almost to the end of the dancing to oblige Aniello, or whether he found the music pleasant. Whatever the reason, Carol had no complaints. It was odd—she had been terrified of dancing with him. Now she found she didn't want to stop.

She was amazed to find it was after two when they finally drifted back to their seats. The hotel lounge had emptied considerably and there were only a handful of couples left on the floor. Stephanie was sitting all on her own in their section of chesterfields. Though she had danced as much as they had, Carol thought she looked a little forlorn sitting there waiting for her uncle to return.

His news when they reached her made Stephanie even more dejected. He looked at his watch, which was a sign that he thought it was time they were in bed, and told his niece, 'I won't make it back to Venice tonight. I'll have to go first thing in the morning.'

Stephanie's face became clouded with disappointment. 'But Gray! You only came at lunch time. Couldn't you stay another day?' she begged plaintively.

She didn't say, 'I've hardly seen you', but her eyes did, and Carol could understand the younger girl's disappointment. It was always the same. Her uncle rushed over from his work in Venice and booked a trip for her. The rest of the time she had to share him with the crowd of tourists, the guide, the places they went to. And when they returned to the hotel in the evening his mind was always on the work he had left behind in Venice, so that he was only half aware that his niece was there.

He said now in his usual brisk tones, 'I'm a working man, Stephanie. I give you what time I can spare.'

Despondently his niece led the way out of the lounge. Meekly, Carol accompanied her to the lift. Gray Barrett watched them go before preparing to return to his seat, perhaps to smoke a last cigarette.

Carol didn't know why she should have this compulsion to steal a glance back over her shoulder. When she did, it was to discover that his flinty brown gaze was still following her.

Her heart began to behave in a peculiar way as she quickly swung her glance to the front. Somehow she had the feeling that, like her, Gray Barrett was thinking of those moments tonight when they had danced together.

CHAPTER SEVEN

UPSTAIRS Stephanie was very quiet as they prepared for bed. They went through the usual ritual of scrubbing their faces, changing into night attire and tying up their hair, before the younger girl drifted into Carol's bedroom and asked, out of the blue, 'Have you ever had a date with a boy?'

'Once or twice,' Carol smiled. 'I used to go out with a young man called Keith, when I was eighteen, but after a few weeks it fizzled out. I haven't bothered much since.' She turned from her mirror to twinkle, 'Why do you ask?'

Stephanie came back from her far-away world and shrugged off-handedly, 'Oh, I just wondered.' She gave Carol a haunted look, bade her goodnight and scuffed off to her room.

Carol gazed after her feeling inadequate, but thankful in a way that it hadn't developed into a long chat. They were both tired, and it was long past their bedtime. Besides, nursing a tiny glow inside she hurried to switch out the light and got herself settled between the sheets, she had lots of special little things she wanted to lie and think about.

They-were now in the hottest month of the Italian summer. The next day the sun shone down relentlessly, making the sea a diamond dazzle before the eyes, and the air around the hotel sluggish and sleep-inducing.

As Jhey drifted to and from the beach and hung around the pool in between meals, Carol put Stephanie's lethargic mood down to the heat. She was no more prepared for what she found upstairs in their - artment that evening after dinner than she would aave been if it had suddenly started to snow.

She had got into the habit of slipping downstairs in the evening whenever she wanted to draw money at the desk. Alberto the receptionist was less busy then and she found she didn't have to wait quite so long. Though the girls spent very little around the hotel they had been frequenting the swing-seated cafes quite a bit in the afternoons lately, and to save being short the following day, Carol decided on the spur of the moment to nip down and catch Alberto before he went off duty.

Unfortunately there were quite a few people, all hoping like her to catch the receptionist at a quiet time, so that it was something like half an hour later before she got back upstairs.

She expected to find Stephanie in one of the little cotton negligees that she wore, padding about between the balconies and revelling in the cool night air, which was their practice at this hour of the day.

She couldn't have been more mistaken.

Seeing that the main room was empty, she drifted smilingly into the younger girl's bedroom all prepared to relate her adventures downstairs. She got as far as the door when she was pulled up short by the sight inside.

Stephanie was wearing a tight white dress, one of those garments which Carol had tried to discourage her from buying in the London store. From somewhere she had found a pair of shoes with a small stiletto heel, and her hair she had piled into a dark froth on the top of her head. But this wasn't the worst part. Her face she had made into a coloured mask.

Bright green eye-shadow now surrounded the lovely brown eyes, which she had lined with dark pencil. Her honey-gold complexion was lost under a scaly film of peach make-up and her lips were painted a dark red.

Stephanie had always had a penchant for browsing amongst the make-up in the shops around the hotel. - She bought oddments as a fifteen-year-old will do, simply because she liked the look of the case or the bottle, then just as soon forgot them.

Carol had smiled to herself at these first signs, common in all schoolgirls, of wanting to hasten the process of growing up. But she wasn't smiling now. Put to use, these paints and powders had done their job. With her classic features and air of confidence Stephanie could easily have passed for a twenty-year-old.

With a touch of the family imperiousness she coolly ignored Carol's gaze on her and continued to drop oddments into a small handbag.

Her heart turning cold, Carol asked, 'Where are you going?'

'Out,' came the nonchalant reply.

'Like that?' Carol said abruptly.

'Well, what's wrong with me?' There was something like flippancy in the tones.

'You look cheap and horrible,' Carol said flatly. It wasn't quite true, for Stephanie's air of breeding was such that even her awful get-up wasn't enough to stifle it completely.

Taking no notice of the remark, the girl tossed her head and said, 'So?'

Carol could see she was making no headway. She watched the other girl and considered uncertainly, 'I suppose we can go down into the hotel lounge for a while, if you want to.'

'I'm sick of the hotel.' Stephanie snapped her handbag shut and turned with an air of finality.

Stifling her fear, Carol asked steadily, 'Well, where did you have in mind?'

'Oh, down the Strada,' Stephanie said carelessly, making for the door.

The main road? At this time of night?

Paling slightly, Carol thought furiously as she wondered what she could do. It would be ridiculous to try and stop Stephanie by force, and she doubted whether she would have had much success anyway. She considered locking the door and withholding the key, but this was no good because Stephanie, in the habit of tripping back and forth constantly from the beach, had by this time procured one of her own.

Carol looked on helplessly. She had to do something, so as the younger girl opened the door, she grabbed her handbag and said shakily, 'Hang on. I'll come with you.'

Stephanie sailing off along the corridor had that expression which said she didn't care either way. Locking the door hurriedly Carol followed quickly behind. It occurred to her as they went down in the lift that she might be doing the wisest thing in letting Stephanie have her own way. Once they were out she would probably see it was a dangerous game she was playing and be only too glad to get back to the security of the hotel.

Thankfully the foyer was only partially lit and the night receptionist was tucked away in his little cubicle at the back somewhere. Heaven knows what he would think, or any other member of the hotel staff for that matter, if they saw the redoubtable Englishman's niece going out looking like this. Thinking of Gray Barrett Carol's nerves stretched a little tighter. She shuddered to think what would happen if he ever found out about this.

She didn't really breathe freely until they were outside and well clear of the hotel grounds. She had had no time to think about her appearance. Luckily the simple cotton dress she was wearing was adequate for the hot night.

Within a few minutes they were amongst the crowds in the main Strada. They had seen its domestic bustle in the mornings and sampled its lazy air in the after-noon, but nothing compared with the sight of it at night time.

The forecourts of the shops and cafes were ablaze with lights. Discotheques rocked with sound. The ice cream bars were full. There were kiosks selling canned beer, and stalls displaying curved portions of melon and pieces of coconut cooled under tinkling fountains of water.

Most of the cafes had an open floor-show of some kind going on, usually a group of teenage musicians playing electrified pop music which assaulted the ears, or a mature handsome type, crooning Italian love songs into a microphone.

Cars honked, scooters swerved and buses trundled past wine shop fronts cluttered with basketwork bottles of every shape and size. Stalls piled with leather goods, rugs, copperware, jewellery and fruit were offered to the stream of late night humanity spilling over the sidewalks. Sunbronzed holidaymakers mingled with white- suited American sailors and the pom-pom-hatted French. There were girls, olive-skinned and dark-haired, and tall blue-eyed Scandinavians.

Carol stuck close to Stephanie as they moved along in the hectic rush. She had never before had so many smiling young men coming at her all at one time. Brown eyes, blue eyes, green eyes twinkled into hers and hung on to her gaze as they loomed in and slowly passed by. The accents expressing the usual nocturnal endearments were just as varied, and masculine ego ran high.

Out of all the nationalities who cheerfully accosted them, the Italian male was the least subtle. The men would breeze up in their tight-fitting suits using the little English they had learned in an engagingly pedantic way. 'How do you do I I'm delighted to meet you. Allow me to introduce my friend...

Though they were devastatingly attractive Carol could ^ee beyond the playful light in their luminescent dark eyes. She smiled her way past the lot of them, her arm tightly linked in Stephanie's. She was convinced that their pawing flattery would be enough to put the younger girl off and that soon they would be scurrying back to the safety of the hotel. She couldn't have been more wrong.

Stephanie's eyes were shining. She was soaking up all this overwhelming attention like a lost puppy who had suddenly been claimed. Left to her, the girls would have had half the Lido Romeos after them. As it was they were surrounded by at least half a dozen when Stephanie stopped outside a pulsing discotheque and said gaily, 'Let's go in there.'

Carol was horrified, but she was shouted down by the group's impetuosity. 'Si, si! Presto, presto!' and everyone rushed forward to pay. She only hoped that the sign flashing over the doorway, The Devil's Den, was a name and nothing more.

Inside, the decor certainly resembled something grotesque, and packed tight on a small dance floor, couples writhed in an eerily changing green and red glow. The music was such that even shouting it was impossible to hear oneself above it.

Carol wanted to coax Stephanie into leaving as soon as they had ditched their hangers-on, but the younger girl gave no sign of having noticed her subtle gestures and laughingly allowed herself to be escorted into the shaking mass of dancers. Someone with a charming smile was forcing Carol on to the floor too. However, she firmly stood her ground and pointedly ignoring the rest of the Romeos, manoeuvred herself round to a small bar. It was necessary to buy a drink to discourage the attentions of other would-be partners. She ordered a lemonade and kept her gaze fixed on Stephanie.

She had no idea how long she stood there. The music was shattering, the smoke stifling. Her head throbbed at the flashing lights. Her eyes ached from the strain of keeping tabs on Stephanie. In contrast to the nightmare experience she was going through the younger girl was revelling in the madness. She danced with anyone who asked her and gave herself willingly to their smooth embraces. Despite her gaudy make-up and ill-fitting dress, in the swirling green lights she radiated a kind of tawdry beauty which attracted the men rather than the boys. They obviously thought she was no more than a couple of years younger than themselves.

The only thing that Carol had to be grateful for was that the music, or to be more precise, the racket, was non-stop, and so was the dancing. Stephanie, enjoying herself no end, stayed on the floor the whole of the time. She had spotted Carol and gave her a wave from time to time.

The problem would be when the music stopped. It obviously couldn't go on all night. Around three o'clock when she had peered at her watch for the tenth time, there was a gradual winding down of the performers on the stage. People began to drift towards the doors.

Stephanie came towards her at last, but not alone. She had several escorts all smilingly playing for her attentions. Feeling like a formidable matron aunt or a strait-laced older sister, Carol took charge. She threw an arm round Stephanie's shoulders and bundled her towards the door.

She never knew whether the taxi driver took pity on her predicament, or whether her resolute expression forced him to a stop. Whatever the case she hustled Stephanie inside and slammed the door, offering a sweet smile to soothe the injured vanity of the masculine element outside. Then voicing their destination with a touch of the Barrett imperiousness she took her seat and they were off swerving and squealing this way and-that, Italian style, along the now deserted Strada.

At the Albany Carol paid the driver and took Stephanie's arm. The grounds of the hotel were all in darkness. The girls crept through the dimly-lit foyer and up the stairs. Carol turned the key in the lock as quietly as she could, feeling a rush of relief as they stepped inside the apartment. In the darkness they stole away to their rooms.

Later, lying in bed, Carol was re-living the awful night when her bedroom door, slightly ajar, was pushed open. In the shadows Stephanie appeared looking radiant. Her demure little self now in her nightdress, face scrubbed, dark hair trailing, she came tripping up to the bed. 'Goodnight, Carol.' She bent to drop a kiss on her cheek, then turning floated out again.

The following day no mention was made of their adventure. Stephanie hummed a tune to herself as they prepared for the beach, and Carol, thankful that the escapade was now behind them, was prepared to let the matter drop. After all, no harm had been done and Stephanie had at least satisfied her curiosity as to what went on outside the life of the hotel.

They swam and soaked up the sun and enjoyed the meals on the dining terrace. In the evening they sat for coffee in the lounge and watched the comings and goings of the other guests. It was after eleven when they went upstairs.

In the apartment Carol couldn't decide whether to wash her hair or sit out on the balcony in the velvet warmth of the night. Beyond the gardens one could just see the faint white ruffle of the incoming waves and hear their whispered sighs.

Stephanie would help her to make up her mind. She hummed snatches of an Italian song as she drifted towards the young girl's bedroom. She was feeling good after her day out of doors. She waltzed into the lighted bedroom, the question she was about to ask dying on her lips as her gaze fell on Stephanie before the mirror.

Clad in a white skirt and gaudy emerald green blouse which was a little too big for her, she had piled up her hair into an amateurish-looking chignon and was just putting the finishing touches to the green eyeshadow.Carol's heart bumped hollowly as she asked, 'Where' are you going?'

'To the Devil's Den,' Stephanie replied carelessly.

'Not again!' Carol tried to inject a hardness into her tones.

'I like it there. Why shouldn't I go?' came the airy reply.

'Because it's seedy and horrible,' Carol snapped.

'You wouldn't find it so if you danced like I did. But please yourself if you don't want to come.'

Stephanie picked up her handbag and strolled out. Carol watched her go, helplessly. Apart from handcuffing her to the bed she didn't know what she could do. She could ring Gray Barrett, of course, but he wouldn't thank her for disturbing him. She was expected to know how to handle his niece.

Feeling weak and incompetent, she grabbed up her handbag and hurried after Stephanie. Outside on the Strada she quickly waved down a taxi. She had learned a few tricks from last night. They made their way slowly through the throng spilling over the sidewalks, but they arrived at the Devil's Den minus the smiling Romeos, out in force along the way.

The noise inside was just as punishing as last night. Stephanie moved on to the dance floor at the first offer. Carol, ignoring the pawing hands and over-friendly smiles around her, pushed her way to the bar and took up her post.

For the next three hours she wore herself out, standing and keeping an eye on Stephanie. When the cacophony died down and the group finally left the stage, she hustled the younger girl towards the door and stopped an oncoming taxi. At least if it never got any worse than this she could cope. And perhaps Stephanie would quickly tire of the frenetic night life. But this was too much to hope for. She went to the Devil's Den the following night and the night after that.

By this time Carol was learning to relax a little. As she stood watching Stephanie on this their fourth consecutive session in the nefarious cave of flashing lights and weird music, she thought she understood a little the reason for the younger girl's unseemly behaviour.

Stephanie had had no real contact with her parents in five years. When she wasn't at school she was either farmed out with obliging friends, or left with an uncle who was too busy to notice her. When she had been younger she had accepted her lonely existence without question. But now she was growing up and she was learning that there were other ways of seeking the affection she craved.

Carol watched the small figure in her tight white skirt and green blouse, laughing in the midst of the crush around the stage. It was true, with her gaudy make-up and her frothy hair-style, the results of Stephanie's efforts to appear grown up were pretty awful, and she was too naive yet to guess what was behind the men's smiles, who held her so tight. But she was probably happier now than she had been in the whole of her fifteen years.

Shifting her weight on her aching legs, Carol looked at her watch. It was almost two-thirty. She blinked her tired eyes and waited for the music to come to an end. Thank heavens they could sleep in, in the morning. Breakfast at the Albany went on until ten o'clock and she had taken to catching up with her rest by snoozing at the beach in the afternoons. She was beginning to feel quite ancient with all this late-night gallivanting about.

The music crashed to a finish at last and Stephanie, looking as fresh as when it had started, drifted across the dance floor.

'Over here, Stephanie,' Carol called, giving her a wave. As they moved towards the door she smote the smiling, smouldering-eyed Romeos who clustered around them with her haughty gaze, and bustled Stephanie before her outside.

Her heart leapt when she saw they were going to be all right for transport. She always had a horror of the taxis all being full or non-existent and the two of them having to walk back to the hotel along the darkening Strada. Thankfully she bundled Stephanie into the taxi that drew up. She slammed the door after them and relaxed once again.

Within a few minutes they were stepping out at the gaunt starlit bulk of the Albany and treading softly through the shadowy lit foyer towards the stairs. Growing used to sneaking in at this hour, they relaxed once they were outside their own rooms. Carol even giggled along with Stephanie as she opened and closed the door softly behind them. Her relief to be back was, as usual, overwhelming.

In the darkness they scuffled along to their bedrooms. They bumped into oddments of furniture along the way and in the confusion giggled their goodnights to one another. They had almost reached their respective doors when there was a sharp snick. The room was suddenly flooded with light and they froze in the presence of Gray Barrett.

CHAPTER EIGHT

SEATED in an armchair next to the light switch, his steely brown gaze trained on them, his voice was deceptively calm as he asked, 'And how long, may I ask, has this been going on?'

The girls were rocked at the sight of him. Carol's terrified glance noticed the night air drifting in from the balconies, the ash tray beside the armchair, half filled with cigarette ends.

As though he followed the workings of her mind he rapped, 'I've been here since eleven-thirty. Carlo at the desk saw you go out at eleven o'clock.'

Carol winced at his words. With bright pink cheeks she looked down at her shoes. What could she say without telling tales? She had no wish to get Stephanie into trouble, but obviously the girl's uncle expected some kind of explanation. She was racking her brain to try and think of some feasible story, when Stephanie, showing that she had no wish to be protected, spoke up with, 'It was my idea, Gray. I wanted to go somewhere different from the hotel, and it's my fault that we were out so late.'

'I'll speak to you when you've cleaned that stuff off your lace,' he silenced her witheringly.

That left Carol. She still hadn't got over the shock of finding him here. Tonight was Friday. It had been only Monday night when they had danced together at the gala dinner. How was she to know that he would come back again so soon?

Under his stringent gaze she blurted out feebly, 'Your niece is very strong-willed…I tried to discourage her from going out late at night, but she didn't want to listen, so ... well…'

He sliced off her ramblings with, 'And where, might one ask, have you been spending your time?'

'At the Devil's Den,' Stephanie spoke up beside her.

There was a grinding pause before he rasped, 'I've heard of it. And what I've heard I don't like.' His face was wooden. All his anger seemed to be directed at Carol, even though his niece had openly admitted that she was the culprit. Carol supposed it must be because she was the one he had left in charge. Or perhaps he suspected she was a willing party in their search for dubious night life.

A small muscle flexed in his jaw as he questioned her icily, 'Do I take it that this has been going on ever since I left?'

'Yes,' admitted Carol weakly. For long enough she listened to the wild pounding of her heart. The only other sound in the room was Gray Barrett's tightly inhaled breath. At long last he removed his moody gaze from her and swung it on to his niece.

He took another deep breath and hunched forward „ in his chair to fire at her menacingly, 'Now you listen to me, Stephanie. Any more of this kind of behaviour and you'll have me to answer to. Do you understand?'

'Yes, Gray,' came the whispered reply.

'I will not have you behaving like a common trollop, and certainly not in a foreign country,' he bombasted bitingly. 'And as from now I forbid you, absolutely, to go to this ... this Devil's Den. Is that clear?'

'Yes, Gray,' came the quiet answer.

Shaking in her own shoes, Carol stole a look at Stephanie to see how she was standing up to the lashing. Strangely enough she didn't seem at all cowed by the dressing down she was being given, but more—well, somehow elated. It was as though she was saying to herself, there was her uncle, who was always too busy or preoccupied to notice her, actually addressing her and no one else. He was actually seeing that he had a niece, and that she could get up to mischief. The young girl's eyes held a new light. To Carol she looked, oddly enough, exhilarated at having stumbled on a way to gain her uncle's attention.

Stephanie let a long pause elapse and then asked with feminine guile, 'Have you come to stay for long, Gray?'

'On the contrary, I was merely making a flying visit,' he said sternly. He didn't look at Carol now as he added, 'However, it seems to me that my presence is needed here. I shall give Venice a ring in the morning and tell them I won't be in for a day or two.'

'Yes, Gray,' Stephanie said gravely over her delight.

Hfc-gave her a steely look and told her sharply, 'Now go and wash that muck off your face and get to bed. Heaven knows, it's late enough.'

Stephanie nodded obediently and turned towards her room,. She glanced back to sneak him a smile, 'Goodnight, Gray,' then switching on the light in her bedroom she closed the door behind her.

Carol stood where she was, waiting to be dismissed. Gray Barrett rose to his impressive height and began to collect his oddments from the table, cigarette case, lighter. There was a wrapped package alongside them which she hadn't noticed before. He picked it up and, while her heart was still banging, he gave it to her, saying in a gruff off-handed way, 'You wanted to take one of these things back with you, I believe.'

Flabbergasted, Carol took the parcel from him. Slowly, completely mystified, she began to unwrap it. Then there before her eyes was a glass figurine. It was the reproduction of a seventeenth-century troubadour complete with stringed instrument. His colourful clothes caught the light at all angles.

'Oh!' Carol's eyes shone with pleasure as she stared at it. Forgetting to be terrified, she gasped, 'It's ... just beautiful!'

She removed her starry gaze at last and let it fly to Gray Barrett. But she felt that to express her thanks would only embarrass him. He was watching her, but turned away when their glances met to say in his brusque manner, 'I happened to be in St Mark's Square today. It's the only place to buy these things.'

Energetically he patted his pockets to check that he had everything, then making for the door he told her, 'I'll see myself out.'

A second or two later she heard the door close behind him.

Carol gazed in wonder again on the figurine before carefully wrapping it back in its paper. It was fairly fragile, so she would have to take care of it. A good place to save it from getting knocked would be at the back of the top shelf in her wardrobe. Switching off the lounge light, she went straight to her room and packed it away.

Completely shattered by the night's events, she wasted no time after that in getting between the sheets.She could hear Stephanie still moving about between her room and the bathroom. Before switching off the lights the younger girl pushed open her door and - tripped up to her bed. She dropped a kiss on her cheek, her small face glowing, and said gaily, 'Goodnight, Carol. Hasn't it been a wonderful day?'

Had it? Carol watched the girl prance out again feeling utterly confused. They certainly hadn't expected the big bad uncle to appear tonight, that was for sure. Her own face was still a little flushed when she thought of Gray Barrett and those few moments in the lounge, just now.

She had a funny feeling that he had made the trip over just to bring her the figurine. But that was ridiculous. Wasn't it?

The next morning the sun smiled down in happy ignorance of the disastrous happenings of the night before. Stephanie, looking docile, followed her uncle ; into breakfast alongside Carol, who was equally subdued.

They spent the morning in the circular garden adjoining the pool. Gray Barrett read his London newspaper. The girls sat demurely each reading a book. After lunch, for a change of scene, they went to the beach. A surprising thing happened. Though still in his town suit, Gray Barrett walked over the sand with them and sat down on a sun bed. The August heat was terrific, and soon, even under the shady umbrella, he had to discard his tie and his jacket.

Carol couldn't help noticing how much more relaxed he looked in his white open-necked shirt, his brow puckered against the sun. Stephanie was openly delighted. Her uncle had never sat with them on the beach before. Admittedly he had his newspaper with him, but it was as yet unopened.

The whole eight miles of the Lido was crowded that summer afternoon. The Albany stretch of beach had its own quota of Italian families and various other nationalities.

The two girls went for their usual swim, then splashed around at the edge of the water for a while before making their way back to dry off. For some time now Carol had taken to wearing a bikini so that practically the whole of her body was a smooth golden brown. Her hair, bleached by the sun, tumbled in silver strands around her throat. Though she gave no sign of it as she padded over the sand, she was well aware of the appraising glances of the dark-eyed, handsome Italian bathers. They seemed to like her slim statuesque build. She had no idea that she walked with a graceful motion.

Something else which she was ignorant of until they arrived back laughingly to grab their towels was Gray Barrett's dour look. As she began to pat herself off he picked up his paper and said into it, testily, 'Have the goodness to dress a little more adequately when you're on the beach with my niece, Miss Lindley.'

Carol blushed under her towel. Lots of girls on the beach were wearing bikinis. That was why she had thought nothing of her own sparse garment. And anyway, Stephanie, drying herself off some distance away, was wearing a bikini, and he hadn't said anything to her.

Needless to say, the three of them dined formally in the big stately restaurant that evening. Afterwards they took coffee in the lounge. At eleven o'clock Gray Barrett decided it was time the girls were in bed. Since he could see their rooms if he chose to stroll outside, they didn't hang about. By eleven-thirty all their lights were out. As she lay listening to the distant pandemonium of the Strada, Carol couldn't help twinkling to herself. It was good to tell that Gray Barrett was in residence at the hotel.

The following morning Stephanie was very daring. Instead of filing meekly into the restaurant she took her uncle's arm and pleaded impulsively, 'Oh, it's such a gorgeous day! Couldn't we sit outside?'

Gray Barrett, surprisingly enough without his suit jacket this morning, sighed heavily, 'If you insist.' But. Carol thought she saw a gleam of tolerance in his eyes.

It was fun out on the dining terrace. In the dappled shade of the chestnut trees, beneath a bluer than blue sky, they carved their rolls and passed marmalade and jam back and forth. Stephanie was full of girlish chatter. Even her uncle's brow seemed to pucker more in a quizzical way than in a frown, as knives clattered and cups were accidentally knocked.

After breakfast, following the routine of the previous day, they went to sit in the garden to read. Presently, however, Stephanie became fidgety. After a whispered consultation with Carol she approached her uncle. 'Carol and I would like to go for a game of tennis,' she told him, waiting for his permission.

'All right.' He folded his newspaper which seemed to hold little interest for him this morning, and added with a slight bark. 'Get me a racquet too. I could do with some exercise.'

Stephanie's eyes became large and round. 'Are you going to play?' she asked delightedly.

'I'm not that ancient, child,' he said drily, rising to his feet. 'I dare say I'll manage to keep you two on the move.'

He did too. Though he played as he danced, a little rustily, as though he hadn't done it for a long time, he had an athletic approach, and his serves were fairly powerful.

Carol was too shy to play much at first. She let Stephanie have the run of the court on their side, stepping in only occasionally to lob a ball back when it got too hot for the younger girl. But she had been fairly good at tennis at school and her interest in the game made her forget her awkwardness. Soon she was dominating the play, thwacking the ball at Gray Barrett with a force which made him gleam wincingly before he lobbed it back. At somewhere around a draw, they finished hot and perspiring and returned to the hotel to shower and change.

Over lunch Stephanie asked spontaneously, "Will you swim with us at the beach this afternoon, Gray?'

'I'll think about it,' he said with a non-committal frown.

But when they met at the front of the hotel later, he came through the foyer, big in a white terry-towelling bathrobe, and sandals of all things on his feet. Carol, remembering to dress decorously in his presence, was wearing a patterned one-piece swim-suit under her beach dress. Stephanie, copying her, was in a white swim-suit and open beach dress.

The heat was enervating and the two girls wasted no time, once they were on the sand, in disrobing and flying off for a dip in the cool sea. Gray Barrett took his time. From where she was splashing around up to her chin Carol saw that he had a truly athletic build. Though she knew that swim shorts didn't date all that much, she had a feeling that his pale blue ones had been bought some years ago, and used very little.

As usual, she was eaten up with shyness when he arrived at the water's edge. She left Stephanie to laugh and splash around him as he joined them. He swam strongly and once he was hidden by the waves Carol felt safe in matching his prowess with her own. With Stephanie tagging on behind they swam towards one of the long-prowed schooners which was anchored out from the shore waiting to do the mid-afternoon sea trip.

The water was as smooth as glass, but distance was deceiving. They seemed no nearer to the boat now than they had been five minutes before. When all the other bathers on the fringe of the sea had been left behind, Gray Barrett turned and said abruptly, 'That's far enough.'

A little breathlessly they followed him laggardly back to the shore. They spent the rest of the afternoon soaking up the sun.That evening at dinner Stephanie was prattling on about their beach sessions when her uncle interrupted, her with the words, 'I was planning to return to Venice tomorrow, but I see the hotel is running a trip to Cortina. It's good for you to visit these places. I don't know what the state of the booking is, but I think it's fairly safe to say we'll be going.'

'To Cortina? Whoopee!' Carol's eyes danced. Then remembering her place under his ironic gleam she looked at her plate and stammered, *I mean ... that should be nice.'

Stephanie seemed a little crestfallen at the proposed trip. At least it looked that way to Carol, but later when they were upstairs and she asked, 'Don't you want to go on the coach ride, Stephanie?' the younger girl replied in measured tones, 'Of course! I'm looking forward to the trip to Cortina tomorrow.' She said goodnight laughingly and swung away towards her bedroom, but there was an odd secretive light in her brown eyes that Carol didn't like the look of. She made her way thoughtfully to her own room. What was Stephanie up to now? she wondered.

They had to take a launch to the mainland for the coach to Cortina. There was just about a bus load of tourists making the trip. Carol, bubbling with excitement, had found pleasure in dressing up for the occasion. She wore a sleeveless pleated dress in a pale floral design, its low scooped-out neckline edged with a tie which fastened in a soft bow at her bosom. Stephanie was looking pretty in a bright tangerine dress edged with floral piping.

The biggest surprise of the morning for Carol was Gray Barrett's outfit. He had actually discarded his town suit and had come to meet them in the foyer, wearing biscuit-coloured slacks and a coffee-coloured silk sports shirt. At first she couldn't take her eyes off him. He looked so big and considerably more relaxed than she was used to seeing him. She felt shyer than ever with him now aboard the launch.

The trip across the water was soon at an end. The group was led from the quay towards the car park. The coach for Cortina was a long luxurious affair with huge windows, and curtains for those who preferred shade.

Everyone was in high spirits, Stephanie included. She was one of the first in the coach and jauntily led the way to the front seats. Bianca was to be their guide for the day. The dark smiling Italian girl had that gift which most couriers possess, the ability to get on with anyone. She and Stephanie were old friends. When she asked the younger girl to share the front guide's seat with her Stephanie readily accepted.

This put Carol in rather a quandary. She had been standing in the aisle waiting to sit with Stephanie, which was her usual practice. Now she was left with Gray Barrett. She hung about eager to take the seat near the window, but not knowing whether she ought to offer it to him. Reading her mind, he waved her in before him, saying drily, 'I've seen most of these places before. I come on the trips strictly for Stephanie's benefit.'

Carol jumped at the opportunity, though she suffered an excruciating shyness as he settled his big frame next to hers. Luckily by this time everyone was aboard and the driver had taken his seat. Soon Bianca's voice over the microphone was giving her something else to think about.

There wasn't a lot for the guide to describe when they first started out, for the countryside around Venice is flat and featureless. However, as they progressed north, the landscape became more wooded and green. In the villages which they passed through Carol was fascinated at the practice of the housewives, which was to hang every scrap of bedding out of the upstairs windows. Striped mattresses greeted the coach like banners along the route.

Sometimes she would see a tall ochre-coloured house standing on its own in fields of lush green growth. Nearly always there would be a slender palm nearby and a garden of luxuriant shrubbery. The Italians too, she noticed, were fond of flowerpots. It wasn't unusual to see a whole line of them, brilliant with colour, trailing down a back outside stairway.

Bianca was warming up now with her anecdotes, linking them with various scenes along the way. She knew all there was to know about the route, and had a dramatic tale to tell about the most ordinary stretch of river or small bridge they passed over. Like all Italians she enjoyed most telling stories to do with disasters or calamities of some kind.

She knew too everything that grew in the fields and pointed out tall sugar cane and forests of slender poplars which were cultivated specially for making plastic.

Halfway through the journey the coach pulled in at a cafe for a break. Though the scenery had been gradually growing more picturesque, Carol was unprepared for the view that met her eyes as she came out on to the steps of the coach. They had parked in front of open-air tables set out on the cafe veranda. The road running down alongside it was steep and curved. Across the curve, beyond one or two more cafes on the other side, mirroring the backcloth of climbing pine-clad hills in its depths, was a lake, vast, green and silent.

'Oh!' was all Carol could say when she saw it.

Gray Barrett, waiting for her outside, remarked on her dreamy state with his usual irony. 'You're holding up the rest of the passengers, Miss Lindley. And this is only a twenty-minute stop. I suggest we go and see about a drink.' So saying he took her arm and helped her down.

Recovering herself in a laughing fluster, Carol accepted his assistance blushingly. At least he didn't seem cross at her starry-eyed wonder, which was something. And anyway there were only three or four people behind her, Stephanie included.

As the girls moved towards the cafe together and chattered about the ride, Carol exuded to the younger girl, 'Have you seen the view? Isn't it fabulous?'

'Super,' Stephanie said with an absent smile. Her gaze was fixed on her uncle up ahead.

Gray Barrett chose a table on the veranda. As it was already extremely hot, all three had cooling drinks. Afterwards with a few minutes to spare before boarding time, a lot of the coach passengers were crossing the road to get a better view of the lake beyond the buildings on the other side. This was a precarious business because the traffic travelling down the curve of the road came round the blind bend at speed.

Carol was eager to see more of the lake and Stephanie, in unusually good humour, offered to accompany her. Gray Barrett frowned on the idea. At first Carol thought he was going to forbid her to go, but his clamped jaw slackened as he looked at her and moving in he said levelly, 'If you must go I'd better come with you. This is a tricky bend.'

Stephanie caught hold of his arm happily. On the other side of him Carol didn't know what to expect as they stood waiting for a lull in the traffic, but when he took her hand in his she was amazed at how natural it felt. She noticed the firm feel of his hand, the strong grip of his fingers holding hers.

So conscious was she of his touch that when they got to the other side of the road she forgot to look at the lake. Oh, she stared at it, but inwardly all she could think of was the feel of her hand resting in his.

As there were only minutes to spare they were soon crossing back and joining everyone else in re-boarding the coach. Stephanie reclaimed her seat next to the guide. She was enjoying assisting Bianca in her duties and was proving useful in knowing when to hand her the microphone or the notebooks she used.

Behind them Gray Barrett took his seat next to Carol beside the window. She gazed out eagerly as they started off. They were coming up to the exciting part of „ the journey now, as far as she was concerned anyway. She had never seen a mountain in her life and according to the chatter in the coach the Dolomites were quite something.

The road took them on past the lake and through craggy countryside. Bianca quickly got into her stride with the microphone. She was soon on her favourite topic when they came to a wide river bed with just a summer trickle of water flowing along its centre. This, she explained, looked harmless enough now, but in the winter when Florence had suffered serious floods, the trickle had been a raging torrent and had caused untold damage from here to the coast.

And she had more hair-raising tales to tell as they climbed further into the gorge. Across the river, everyone was told to look to where a ravine was cut into the hills at the far side. Above this ravine, Bianca chattered on happily, there had once been an artificial lake, but one torrentially rainy night it burst its banks, taking half the mountainside with it, which was now the ravine, and poured millions of tons of water into the valley. The handful of villages along its thundering route had been completely wiped out. That was why, Bianca explained breezily, there was nothing to be seen on the land stretching away on either side of the river bed but mud flats and pebbly wastes.

'How awful!' Shocked, Carol swung her clouded blue gaze in from the desolate scene and met Gray Barrett's brown one.

'It happened a long time ago,' he said, and directing her gaze up towards the front of the coach he told her, 'Look, we're coming up to the start of the Dolomites, or the pre-Alps as they call them.'

The poignant scene forgotten, Carol looked up ahead eagerly at the stairways of craggy peaks beyond the road. If this was just the start what were the real mountains like?

As the coach progressed along the narrow ribbon of road, it wasn't long before she was seeing them at first hand. From the giant stairways the soaring masses rose higher and higher into the sky until they were towering to such heights she couldn't believe what she saw. Like the rest of the passengers who were unfamiliar with the scene she kept bending in her seat to try and get the tip of the peaks into her view. Thankfully the man beside her was tolerant of her leaning across him.

Another fascinating sight, now that they were approaching Cortina, was the timber-built houses at the side of the road and dotted in the distance. With large overhanging eaves, gay shutters and two and three- storey-high flower-decked verandas every one could have been lifted straight out of a children's picture book.

The coach passed the Olympic ski-jump, after which Bianca announced that they would shortly be coming into the town of Cortina. The tourist party were to dine at a restaurant in the main square. Following this everyone would be allowed to do as they wished for the duration of the two-hour stay. Tickets for the cable car ride up the mountain of Folaria would be available to those who desired them.

So saying, Bianca packed her things away with Stephanie's assistance, and everyone sat fluttering with anticipation, and waiting to alight.

Carol was too excited to eat much at lunch. She knew that Gray had purchased tickets for the cable car ride, and having seen the tiny red object looking no bigger than a matchbox against the awful grandeur of the mountain, she was gripped by a kind of delicious fear. Stephanie too seemed more than usually intrigued at their proposed trip up the mountain.

After the meal the three of them wandered along the gay little street lined with shops. At the kiosk with a clock tower on top in the centre of the square, Carolbought a postcard to send to her mother. Gray bought cigarettes. Stephanie kicked her heels impatiently.

They walked where several beautifully decorated chalets lined the square. Then it was time to meet the others who were going to ascend the mountain. Stephanie skipped eagerly along leading the way. Carol stayed beside Gray. As she cast her gaze frequently to that tiny red speck high up amongst the peaks she wasn't sure now whether she would be able to go through with the trip. She was heartened when they arrived at the cable car ramp to see that lots of the other coach passengers were laughingly in awe of the adventure.

Gray scooped her along with him as though they were merely about to catch a bus. Stephanie, who had been to Switzerland, also viewed the prospect of dangling thousands of feet up on a tiny wire with blithe unconcern.

Up past the ticket offices, over a handrailed bridge, everyone filed towards the waiting car, a kind of oval- shaped cabin with curved glass windows at either end. It held about a dozen people standing crammed together like sardines. Carol, whether she liked it or not, found herself crushed against a window. Stephanie was beside her and Gray behind. She could already see quite a stretch of the valley below the roadway, and as the car jerked to a start she decided that the trip was going to be nothing at all.

Slowly they began to climb. She looked down on clumps of vegetation and rocky escarpment falling away below the window. That wasn't too bad, but then the tips of tall pine trees began to spin away beneath the cable car, and coward that she was, she closed her eyes on the'scene.

Miraculously, after only a few minutes they came to a stop. Carol, feeling quite pleased with herself at the way she had stood up to the experience, filed out of the cabin behind Stephanie and ahead of Gray. Only when she stepped out on to the little platform did she discover to her horror that there was yet another cable car waiting for them. And the route, which she could see by the tiny red speck coming down, was towards a sheer perpendicular wall of the mountain which seemed to tower in the sky. She wasn't the only one petrified at the thought of going up there. But none of the other first-timers wanted to show their fear, so they shuffled along to the second cable car, giggling to bolster their nerve.

This time Carol, with Gray and Stephanie, was amongst the last in. This meant that they ended up being tightly packed against the door as the cabin jerked to a start. Stephanie cheerfully squeezed herself in beside a window. Her eyes as she gazed upwards expectantly seemed to Carol to be a little over-bright.

For herself she ought to have felt easier on this second climb. She had no view to terrify her. Worse than this, however, as the cabin began to swing, dip and alter its pace her attention became riveted on the door only inches away from her nose. It was fastened with the flimsiest little catch which rattled ominously. In horrified fascination she stared at the cracks of light at the bottom and up the sides of the door, picturing all too vividly the yawning chasm of unending space outside.

There was of course an attendant in the cabin, but having probably done this trip a few thousand times before, he stared down at his shoes with bored detachment. Gray was on the other side of her. As the cabin lurched, throwing them closer together, he dropped his arm across the door and said to her, 'We're almost there.'

Caring not at all about his nearness now, Carol gladly let him shield her from that flimsy barrier.

The trip took ten minutes. To many of those inside the cable car it seemed considerably longer. Stepping out at the top also had its complications. Now that they were so high some were too timid to brave the ordeal of looking down. Stephanie had no nerves. She skipped towards the wide rough-hewn barrier at the edge without a qualm. Carol picked her way to the rail as though she were walking the plank at the top of a skyscraper.

Miraculously she found it was no ordeal at all. The mountain sloped away only gradually from the barrier, and way, way down below, looking like a scattering of tiny yellow beads on the floor of the valley, was Cortina.

It was a fantastic feeling being up so high and staring at the surrounding grandeur of other mountains. Massive separate peaks and cones reached up even higher into the sky above soaring buttresses and bulky domes.

Behind her, Gray pointed to a towering mass across from them and told her, 'That's the one they call the Glass Mountain.'

Stephanie was fidgety. There were dozens of people roaming over the crown of the mountain and she wanted to roam too. The three of them walked past the timber-built caf6 at the side of the cable car station and upwards. Though there was yet another car lift to the summit, nobody ever bothered much with this because the best views were to be had at this level. However, many people liked to see how high they could walk just for the fun of it.

The threesome were on this route when Stephanie, unusually keen today, suddenly took it into her head that she wanted to pick flowers. Carol had to admit that the pinks, blues and yellows were pretty enough, and especially the edelweiss, but she was more intrigued by the surrounding peaks. However, when Stephanie, going further and further ahead, called for her assistance, she went to help her uncomplainingly. Gray lit a cigarette and sat down on a rock to wait.

Carol had been bothered all day by this feeling that Stephanie was acting oddly. When she reached the younger girl making her way across a rocky hollow she was convinced of this. There wasn't a flower in sight up here, and in any case Stephanie had as many as she could hold in her hand.

She noticed too, when she called the younger girl, that she simply waved her laughingly on, always keeping a good way ahead. Feeling a little cross at her antics after a while, Carol picked up speed. When she reached Stephanie, she said breathlessly, looking around at the steep rocks, 'What are we doing up here? I thought you were picking flowers?'

'I decided to explore instead,' Stephanie replied nonchalantly, moving on.

'This is idiotic, and you know it,' Carol said, following her.

'Oh, come on! It's fun.' Stephanie threw her a laugh and disappeared.

Carol felt a stab of fear. There were no grassy slopes up here, only rocks falling away steeply at the sides. And from these edges she caught dizzying glimpses of the valleys below.

As she moved upwards she became frightened for herself, but she daren't stop. It had been made perfectly clear to her when taking the job that Stephanie was her responsibility. And though just lately she had been finding life with the girl something of a strain, she had never once let herself forget this.

She kept on now, though her footholds were not all that secure, rounding sloping slabs of slate and tufts of coarse vegetation. There was no sign of Stephanie. It must have been ten minutes since she had last caught a glimpse of her.

Keeping her gaze away from the sudden drops at the side, she called her name. There was no reply. An awful thought gripped her. What if... ? Oh no 1

Calling louder in her anxiety, she stumbled on, but there was only the breeze to answer her as it came rustling over the slopes.

Panicking at the silence, Carol looked at her watch. It was just as she thought. They had been climbing far too long. Everyone in their party would have gone down by this time. The coach was due to leave Cortinain ten minutes.

At her wits' end, she stood on a sloping platform, the valley a pale green carpet miles below at her back. All was still.

Then she did hear a sound. A voice harsh and strident coming up the mountain slopes, 'Carol! Stephanie ... !'

After a few moments she saw Gray's shape move into view. Even from this distance she could tell he was very angry. He came striding up the crown of the mountain. Then seeing her over towards the edge, he quickened his step, his face paling in an odd way. Carol stood her ground. She was steeling herself to face the onslaught when suddenly from a rocky hollow to the side of the menacingly approaching figure, Stephanie skipped out and called gaily, 'Hello, Gray I Have you been looking for us?'

Ignoring her, he strode on towards Carol, who was standing where she was not out of bravado, but because she found she had cut herself off on the precarious path, and could move in a hurry neither up nor down.

Stepping down to swing her up by the waist, Gray bit out savagely, 'Are you out of your senses? We're ten thousand feet up and you have to play games!'

'It was my fault, Gray,' Stephanie danced in front of him, 'I wanted to explore.'

'You're employed to use your brains in these situations. You could both have gone over the edge!' Gray's thunderous brown gaze was raking Carol's drained look. She had just caught a glimpse of the valley down below behind her. He grabbed her arm, and taking Stephanie at the other side of him, he marched them both stumblingly along on an easier route down.

Neither dared speak. Carol moved tremblingly under his iron grip. Stephanie was more buoyant, though her exhilaration at having had to be sought out by her uncle was tempered by a puzzled resentment. Once or twice on the route down she slid a curious look at Carol, taking it on after a while to let it rest on her uncle.

They caught the next cable car down. Carol was so conscious of Gray's brooding presence close against her in the crush that she had no time to worry about the nightmare ride. At the bottom he took her arm and hurried them across to the coach.

As it happened there were one or two last-minute shoppers just straggling up, and Bianca, ever of a sunny disposition, overlooked the fact that they were setting off back a few minutes late.

Stephanie chose to sit with the guide again. She was a little cool on the journey back, she didn't turn around once. And at the halfway stop at the cafe beside the lake, she sat with her drink almost until it was time to board the coach again.

It was dark when they arrived back at the Albany. They had just time to slip upstairs to wash and change before dinner. At the table in the restaurant Carol was feeling slightly more relaxed after the long drive back. She had put on a neat cornflower blue dress which brought out the blue of her eyes and contrasted with the paleness of her hair. Stephanie, strangely enough all smiles again, had chosen a pastel flowered nylon dress. Gray was in his usual dinner jacket, but in the past few days he had developed a tan which, with his dark hair and prominent features, made him look quite striking.

No mention was made of the affair on the mountain in Cortina as they dined, though once or twice Carol looked up from her plate to find Gray's glance brushing over her. She wondered if he was still angry with her and supposed he must have spent his time on the drive back brooding on what a useless companion he had engaged to look after his niece. Certainly his gaze when it met hers seemed to have lost some of its thunder, but she supposed she was still in his bad books.

CHAPTER NINE

STEPHANIE led the way into the lounge for coffee afterwards. As they had been fairly late arriving back, there was not much of the evening left. In their section of chesterfields Gray finished his coffee, then taking out his cigarettes he told them that he would be leaving for Venice early the next morning.

This was no surprise as he had mentioned going back the day before. Nevertheless Carol felt a little bleak inside at his words. Stephanie, of course, was immediately despondent. At least until her uncle bethought himself to rivet her with his flinty gaze. Then she shone as a jewel might shine when the sun flashes on to it.

'And no tricks while I'm away,' he warned her. 'You're to stay around the hotel and do as you're told. Understand?'

'Yes, Gray.' Though his tones were threatening Stephanie glowed under his gaze and gave him her beguiling smile.

There was something about that smile which worried Carol long after Gray had packed them off upstairs, and she lay in her bed in the dark. Familiar by this time with Stephanie's whimsical ways, she experienced a sharp sense of unease whenever she thought of that smile. It was a feeling she couldn't shake off during the days ahead.

Surprisingly enough, the younger girl couldn't have been more agreeable. She was a willing partner in anything Carol suggested and they made the fullest use of the amenities around the hotel besides going to the beach every afternoon.

The days passed pleasantly. Carol was beginning to think that she had misjudged Stephanie and imagined the mischief behind her smile. Then one evening when they had been sat up in their rooms for quite some time after dinner, Stephanie clapped the magazine down which she had been reading and announced brightly, 'I think I'll go out.'

Carol, feeling her heart start to pump, said quietly, 'It's a little late, don't you think?'

'Ten o'clock's not late. Not in Italy,' Stephanie laughed, sailing off to her room.

Carol followed her, using a firm tone. 'Your uncle said you were to stay around the hotel.'

'I know what Gray said,' Stephanie replied cheerfully. She had been lounging in a pair of white slacks and an orange top. She didn't bother to change but began to plaster her face with make-up before the dressing-table mirror.

Carol watched her, knowing she was no match for that jaunty imperiousness. She wished now that she had demanded that the other key to the apartment be turned over to Gray. At least then she could have hurried to lock the door.

Knowing that once again she was on the losing end, Carol said coldly, 'If you're thinking of going to the Devil's Den...

'I'm not.' Stephanie coiled her hair on top of her head with a gay light. 'Venice is where the life is, and the launches run till the early hours, I believe.'

'Venice?' Carol stared, her blue eyes round. 'But you can't go there!'

'Why not?' Stephanie put the final touches to her hair, pleased with the effect.

'But... your uncle!' Carol gasped. 'He'll see you!'

'Maybe,' Stephanie said lightly.

Carol went on staring, but she was no longer surprised. She knew Stephanie's game all too well. She was obsessed with the idea of making her uncle notice her, and by this time past caring what methods she used to gain his attention. She wasn't going out tonight in the hope of meeting her uncle. She was going out with the express purpose of running into him.Carol wasn't angry any more. She watched the small figure preparing to leave. The make-up she had applied was a grotesque mask, but it was no cover for her vulnerable youth. It seemed heartbreakingly pathetic that Stephanie should have to stoop to such measures to glean a little affection.

Carol knew that she would go with her to Venice. The best she could hope for was that Gray was not in too obvious a part of the city. Neither of the girls knew where he stayed, or. in which area he worked, but it was a big enough place. With luck they might not run across him at all.

She was still wearing the pale dress she had dined in. When Stephanie drifted out of her bedroom and moved carelessly towards the door, Carol simply picked up her handbag and followed her out.

People were still passing to and fro in the foyer below, some on their way to the nightclub at the rear of the building. Fortunately no one paid much attention to the two figures hurrying from the lift to the outside door. From the hotel the girls caught a taxi to the landing stage. The launch was filled with late-night revellers out to paint the town in Venice. Carol didn't like the atmosphere at all on the ride across. If it was like this on the boat, what was it going to be like in the crowded streets of the city?

Another thing that was causing her considerable concern was the fact that neither she nor Stephanie knew their way around Venice. Of course they had been once on a guided tour, but they certainly weren't sufficiently familiar with the city to go strolling willy-nilly.

Stephanie couldn't have been less worried. Once they left the launch, she walked up the Riva degli Schiavoni, past the Bridge of Sighs and out into St Mark's Square as casually as a Venetian.

It was just as Carol had expected it would be at this time of the night. The square was crowded with tourists and Italians of all types, some a little too pushing as they brushed against Stephanie or herself in passing.

She stuck close to the younger girl, holding on to her arm for good measure as they turned into a street off the square, which was lined with shops and restaurants. Judging by the fashionable throng this was probably the main hub of the town. Stephanie seemed to think so too, for as they walked her eyes searched eagerly amongst the crowds outside the brilliantly lit establishments.

Carol was secretly glad now that everywhere was so populated. They'd never find Gray amongst all these people, and conversely, even if he was here the chances of him spotting them were slim indeed.

She kept her satisfaction to herself and patiently walked with Stephanie along one street after another, taking careful note of their direction. Eventually they came out at the Grand Canal at a point just below the Rialto bridge.

Unlike the somewhat elite quarter they had just passed through, the little quay was lined with dubious places of entertainment. One in particular, a large open ballroom set in a ruinous-looking palace, blasted beat music through the dark streets around. Inside luminously white-suited American sailors could be seen cavorting around with dark Venetian girls.

The canal throbbed with night traffic, passengers being ferried from one spot to another along the glistening stretch, much the same as a bus would carry them in a less waterlogged town. As they passed by the gaudily-lit ballroom they stared in with the uninterested look of the traveller.

That was all Carol had a mind to do as she and Stephanie walked along the quay. They had been wandering the streets for over an hour now and, greatly relieved that nothing disastrous had happened, she was anxious to get back to the Lido. Her heart sank when Stephanie, lured towards the noisy scene inside the ballroom, said impulsively, 'Let's go in there.'Stiffening, Carol replied, 'I don't think we should. I think it would be far more sensible to go back to the hotel. We've been out long enough.'

'You go back if you want to,' Stephanie said with a carefree air. 'I'm going to have some fun.' Turning, she floated off towards the brightly lit interior. Carol had no choice but to follow her. She paid their admittance fee at a desk out in the night, then stood on the edge of the noise and clamour to wait.

Stephanie in her plastered make-up and her hair piled high on her head didn't have to take more than two steps into the ballroom before she was surrounded by a group of beefy American sailors and whisked laughingly on to the floor by one of them.

You couldn't call the wild gyrating dancing, and the cacophony of instruments could hardly be described as music, but everyone was happy enough and there was no shortage of partners for the girls. Stephanie, who had made a hit with the naval group, soon found herself in a whirl of constantly changing partners, one sailor bulldozing in a few minutes after the other.

Carol found herself a place beside a strip of grille- work adorned with cheap metal flowers, and eventually relaxed. At least they were safe here and the town would have quietened down considerably by the time they made their way back to the boat. She stood, content to gaze out into the night while she waited, listening to the laughter and chat inside the ballroom.

After a while Stephanie's sailor friends grew tired of throwing themselves about, and clustered around her near the opening for air. Tolerant of the younger girl's hunger for attention, Carol left her to enjoy her circle of admirers. As she watched the lights dancing over the canal she listened with half an ear to the laughing conversation.

'Why are all Americans called Hank?' Stephanie's voice floated over.

'My real name's Arthur,' came a slurred whimsical reply. 'But Hank's shorter.'

'My pal here's called Bonny,' another voice broke in, and on a shout of laughter from everyone, 'You'd die if you noo what his real name was!'

And so it went on. After a while Carol altered her position. She was getting tired of standing and the breeze wafting over the water was becoming cool. As always on these capricious whims of Stephanie's she had had no time to think about herself. If there had been a little less rush she might have been able to go to her own room to collect a small evening jacket of some kind.

Her mind toying with these thoughts, she heard the sound of a water-bus, and watched it chug into view without actually seeing it. Several had passed while she had been standing here so that she had long since ceased to notice them. Because her thoughts were miles away she stared at the crowd on the open deck, only vaguely aware that they stared back.

Then all at once her mind catapulted her into the present, reacting joltingly to the sight of a familiar figure on board. Her heart leapt into her throat. That was Gray! On the deck immediately opposite! He was standing with a group of men of a similar type to himself, probably having finished some sort of business together.

As the ferry slid by she stood transfixed. Had he seen her? He had been looking this way and standing here amidst the blaze of lights and blaring music, she didn't see how he could have missed her.

When she could get her legs to move she jerked into action. The first thing to do was to collect Stephanie, then make a bolt for it back to the Lido. After that she would deny everything; say that it must have been someone else he had seen outside the gaudy ballroom. Anything to get out of the scrape she now found herself in.

Just inside the ballroom she found Stephanie still chattering to her sailor friends. Bottling up her agitation, Carol butted in and said, taking the younger girl by the arm firmly, 'Come along now, it's time we were on our way.'

If Stephanie looked displeased, the American naval men were even more grieved, and they didn't bother to hide their annoyance. One in particular with a heavy brooding gaze swayed over Stephanie and smiled unpleasantly, 'What's with you and this dish? Are you her keeper or somethin'?'

'Sort of,' Carol said coldly.

'Well, lay off for once, will ya,' the broody one dropped an arm round Stephanie.

'I'm afraid I can't do that,' Carol said, tugging Stephanie's other arm.

This brought a bleary outburst from one of the others. 'Hey, kid! Don't let her shove you around like that. If she was my big sis I'd ...'

'Yeah.' In full agreement a tall boy with a pleasant twinkle turned his arms round Carol's waist. 'Anyway,' he drawled, 'I like grown-up sisters.' And dropping a dry grin her way, 'How's about you and me taking a little stroll by the river, huh?'

Carol had no time to be polite. 'Let go of me!' She shook frantically to try and free herself from the beefy embrace.

This only amused her good-humoured captor. 'Aw, c'mon now,' he gave her an injured look, 'I ain't gonna bite cha.'

In the skirmish near the outdoors neither saw the big figure approaching. But the steely voice rasping on the night was not one to be ignored. 'I think you'd better find someone else to practise your horseplay on.'

The tall boy dropped his arms, full of innocence, and drawled, with a bland smile at Carol, 'Now why didn't you say you'd brought your old man along?'

In Spite of her bruised shoulders Carol found the big sailor really rather funny. She couldn't understand why Gray's face should be so white and angry-looking as he eyed her tormentor. The sailor too seemed to sense the blazing antagonism and moving to where Stephanie was still enmeshed against the broody one, he said with a strained grin, 'My buddy here's a bit tight, but we'll look after him okay. Goodnight, sir,' he gave a smart salute and ushered his pals out into the night.

Carol daren't look Gray's way. She had an idea that his jaw was flexing furiously. Stephanie too, for once, had no blithe greeting to offer. She had watched Gray's entrance and seen him blazingly demolish the sailor holding Carol. Now she couldn't take her gaze off either of them.

All this time the awful beat music had been blaring out. Above it Gray's voice stormed out at last as he turned to his niece, 'I suppose you're responsible for this?'

'Yes.' Stephanie perked up a little under his withering gaze. 'It was all my idea to come to Venice and I thought I might…'

Carol, afraid that Stephanie didn't realise the extent of her uncle's wrath, butted in to stammer, 'I ... did try to tell her that....'

'Your control of any situation is pathetic!' Gray swung on her, his eyes still blazing. 'The mauling you put up with before I arrived just now leaves me in no doubt of that.' For a second he let his furious brown gaze linger on her terrified blue one. Momentarily something else flickered there, then he was taking her arm and moving off to rasp bitingly, 'With a disobedient niece and a useless chaperone, it's a wonder I get any work done at all!'

With Stephanie at the other side of him, they were taken along the streets and eventually back to the canal for the water-bus, to continue the route Gray had been on when he had spotted Carol.

Down towards the city centre they left the ferry andwere led through silent streets until they came to a corner building, tall and stately, overlooking the bend , of a canal.

There was no name outside, but Carol knew at once that this was Gray's hotel. With its brass lamplighting reflected on the water, its mellow-lit interior and top- hatted porter standing at the door, it was just the kind of dignified establishment that Gray would choose.

They crossed the small bridge and went inside, and she and Stephanie stood aside in disgrace, while Gray talked at the desk. A few minutes later a porter in a velvet-collared long coat bowed them smilingly forward. 'Avanti. This way, please.'

It was long past one o'clock and Gray obviously had no intention of wasting any more time on them tonight. He scowled down on them as they scuttled past him, behind the porter. Carol thought he was about to give her the benefit of his tongue again as his flinty brown gaze fastened on her. Instead he slackened his frame and said on a weary breath, 'See if you can keep out of trouble until morning.'

She had a blurred impression of lots of velvet hangings and brassware and thick sound-muffling carpets, as they went along a corridor and up a flight of stairs. The room the porter showed them into had two white- draped beds and the usual essentials of furniture. He whispered 'Buona notte' to them and closed the door on them softly.

As they had no night attire, it was a simple matter to prepare for bed. Stephanie had nothing to say. She went along to the bathroom to wash, and came back to undress, flouncing around as she did so.

Carol was too shattered to fathom her coolness. After living with the younger girl for most of the summer she was familiar by now with her changes of temperament.

This was a line of thought which caused her considerable worry once they were both in bed and the lights were out. She had an awful feeling that Stephanie had gone too far this time. And what made it worse, they were now into the month of September. Some of the boarding schools opened in September, if not to start work, to accept early boarders from abroad. It was possible after tonight that Gray, having had as much as he could stand of his niece's tantrums, would pack her off back to school. And if he did, he would have no use for Carol either.

The thought made her heart beat in a peculiarly hollow way. She couldn't face the idea of returning to England just yet. No friendly Italian atmosphere, no more thrilling excursions, but bleakest of all, no Gray....

CHAPTER TEN

BUT Gray didn't send his niece back to school. The following morning after breakfast he packed his bags and escorting the girls back to the Lido, he took up residence at the Albany along with them.

Carol gathered that, like most top men in business, he had discovered that the work carried on just as well without him. And as Venice was only a few minutes' ride away there was nothing to stop him travelling to the city from the Albany when it suited him.

As it happened he spent most of his time around the hotel. For Carol they were idyllic days. The stultifying heat of the summer had gone, but the September sun shone warmly and there was fun to be had around the hotel and down at the beach.

Gray soon got back into practice on the tennis courts and kept the girls at it lobbing the ball back to him. They usually took a dip in the pool afterwards to cool off. Carol was no good on the diving boards, but following the others she would occasionally hazard a jump. Gray would usually be below somewhere to swing her up as she shook the water laughingly from her face.

At the beach they lounged on the sun beds, or sat with tall drinks at the seaside restaurant, watching the dwindling holiday life along the stretch of coast.

Stephanie seemed to enjoy all the fun well enough, which had been suddenly laid on for her, though she kept shooting odd looks at Carol beside Gray, and her eyes had a peculiar brilliance about them these days.

Carol had to admit that she didn't notice the younger girl much. Her gaze was usually with Gray; watching him when he seemed about to smile, or when he strolled about somewhere nearby. With all this outdoor life, after being encased in city suits for so long, his body developed an attractive tan. And the constant round of sporting activities which he had probably never indulged in for years gave him back his old athleticism. His face, prone to dourness through too much concentration on his work, had become mellowed into more relaxed, if not handsome lines.

In the evenings, tremendous in his dinner jacket, the sight of him was enough to make Carol's knees buckle.

If the night was warm with no breeze, he didn't wait for Stephanie to ask if they might dine on the terrace. Casually he allowed the maitre d'hotel to lead them to a table which might afford a glimpse of the silver sea, or to one beside the heady fragrance of the gardens.

Carol wanted to hold on to the days. They were flying by so quickly. Soon Gray's work in Venice would come to an end. Stephanie would be returning to school. And the Albany's clientele would probably be reduced to a few winter guests. Already the hotel stretch of beach had, fewer holidaymakers enjoying the late September sun.

One afternoon when they were down there Gray, his teeth looking white against the turned-up collar of his beach shirt, said idly across the cafe table, 'The hotel are running the last trip of the season tomorrow. It's to Trieste and the caves of Postojnska in Yugoslavia. I can book the seats if anyone's interested.'

Carol's dancing blue gaze was a complete give-away as to how she felt about the idea. But in case there was any doubt she gasped delightedly, 'Oh yes, please!' Then colouring at her eagerness she turned quickly to the young figure beside them down on the sand and asked brightly, 'You'd like to go, wouldn't you, Stephanie?'

'I suppose so,' Stephanie, drawing with her finger in the sand, replied indifferently.

'I'll get the tickets as soon as we get back,' Gray said promptly, as though his niece had jumped at the idea. He rose, obviously thinking that now was as good a time as any. As they started out back to the hotel he told them, 'It will mean going straight to bed after dinner tonight. We'll have to start out early tomorrow and we won't get back until late in the evening.'

Carol walked rapturously at his side, her heart bursting with happy anticipation. What did she care what the conditions were? She would willingly get up at four and stay out the clock round just to see Trieste with Gray.

As it happened it was quite a passable hour when they all lined up outside the hotel the next morning. It was one of those sparkling days when the first breath of autumn mingles imperceptibly with the languid air of summer.

Carol, all a-sparkle herself, had put on a lemon sun dress patterned with white flowers, and over her arm she carried a matching jacket for the cool of the evening. Gray was beside her. Her heart took a dive every time she looked at him in his powder blue slacks and royal blue shirt. Stephanie had chosen a dress of the palest green, which made her eyes look large and dark.

Under the supervision of Enrico, their guide for the day, they took the launch to the mainland. The luxury coach was waiting for them as usual on the car park beside the quay.

Carol held her breath as they filed on board, waiting to see where Stephanie would choose to sit. Enrico, a schoolteacher in Padua during term-time, was middle- aged and inclined to be a little abrupt in his manner. It wasn't likely that Stephanie would join him in the guide's seat as she had done the friendly Bianca. And the only other alternative would be for her to sit with her uncle. But no. As this was the last excursion of the season, the coach was only three-quarters full. There were ample spare seats to be had and while Carol and Gray waited up ahead in the bus, Stephanie flopped down in a spare seat beside a window some distance away.

Paying little attention to the bitter light in the look the younger girl shot her, Carol shyly accepted Gray's offer to precede him, and knew a rush of sweet relief when he settled himself in beside her.

Soon they were on their way, the coach cruising through the green countryside and sprawling villages, past familiar landmarks seen on other trips, until they were on the main route towards Trieste. Enrico did a thorough job of pointing out the sights. He had a booming voice, and he made everyone sit up and pay attention to what he had to say.

As it was a fairly extensive tour they stopped a couple of times during the morning. Once at a little caf£ with an old church set in pleasant gardens at the other side of the road, and again at a village of yellow ochre cottages beyond which could be seen the first glimpses of blue sea. On both occasions Stephanie licked at an ice cream while Carol and Gray sat at an outdoor table with drinks.

Towards lunch time the coach came out on to the coast road leading to Trieste and they were driven along a dramatic stretch where a green-clad cliff climbed high at one side of the road and fell down towards the Adriatic at the other. They seemed to be making straight for a blank wall of grey rock, but at the last moment a tunnel appeared and the coach went cruising through the bowels of the cliff which overhung the roadway.

Carol fell in love with her first views of the outskirts of Trieste. Enrico had at last put his microphone down and there was time to let one's gaze wander at leisure over the scenery. Amongst the greenery rising up on her left, white houses were dotted, and opulent-looking villas. On the sea side Gray leaned in close to point out to her the city, floating hazily in the distance, and Mira- mare Castle, a fairy-tale structure on a nearby promontory.

They stopped for lunch at the Ristorante Alia Marinella, a rambling leafy establishment situated directly at the side of the coast road. At separate tables where vines and small trees showered greenery within the glass enclosure, the party dined on Triestine dishes and local wine.

At their table, which looked out towards the sea, Stephanie chattered to Gray about the coach ride. She had changed her seat several times during the morning. She didn't have much to say to Carol. Not that Carol noticed. In no mood for conversation herself, she was too busy soaking up the dreamy pleasures of the day.

After the meal there was a few minutes to spare for stretching one's legs. Along with other members of the coach party the three of them crossed the road to the narrow ribbon of promenade adjoining. There was no beach, just a lot of craggy rocks on which the odd couple of holidaymakers here and there were catching the last of the summer sun. Stephanie went to the edge to gaze down at the frothy waves swivelling round the rocks, while Carol and Gray strolled near by.

Once everyone was on the coach again and they were cruising towards the city, Enrico told them in his commanding tones that the main tourist attraction was the Capitoline Hill, and castle of San Giusto, and that here the coach party would be spending the first part of the afternoon.As they came into Trieste with its sloping busy streets and tree-shaded squares, where shawled women stood beside flower stalls, the guide pointed out to them a two-hundred-year-old canal running several blocks into the city's market centre. Then he packed away his microphone and belongings, presumably to take a break while his party was sightseeing. The coach drew in at the top of the famed hill for the passengers to alight. Enrico led the way to the main square. After that everyone was left to their own devices for a while.

The place was fairly well populated with tourists. The main focal point on the huge circular terrace where they roamed was a giant sculptured memorial of grappling muscular men with shields. Stephanie, shooting one of her hostile looks at Carol, grabbed Gray's arm on the other side of her and chatted away gaily to him as they moved towards the monument.

Most of the tourists had cameras and were busily snapping their friends against this and that. Carol, watching Gray's profile against their historic surroundings, cursed herself, as she did every time they came out, for leaving her own camera behind in England. The chances she had missed of capturing his likeness! Pictures she could have kept for ever to remind her of this magical summer. The cooling breeze, telling her it was almost at an end, seemed to make itself felt around her heart as they walked.

Beside the memorial Gray stood to study the sculpture, then turning to Carol, he said with his dry smile above Stephanie's non-stop chatter, 'If you're interested, it was done by Attilio Selva in 1934.'

He, took her arm and guided her towards the castle. Stephanie clung on to her uncle at the other side. They passed the cathedral and the weathered columns of a Roman basilica. Carol hadn't a clue what they were, but Gray had his guide book handy. However, he didn't refer to it much as they strolled around the interior of the castle.

Across the drawbridge and into the guardroom he led her to the weapons around the wall, while Stephanie drew his attention to other things, such as the cannons and the old stone archways. Eagerly she beckoned him on with her through the castle museum and the waiting chamber with its carved wooden chests. On the way Gray led Carol to the Venetian room where Flemish hunting-scene tapestries and gilded chests were on display.

Stephanie took her uncle's hand and tugged him towards a narrow staircase. It led out on the bastions, and at once they were met with an incomparable panorama of Trieste. As Carol melted at the scenery, Gray dropped an arm lightly across her shoulders to point out, 'See, there are the hills of Carso, and the gulf. We've a clear view from Grado to Istria.'

From the castle they went down a twisting path to see the Roman amphitheatre. Stephanie wanted to roam about the tiers of stone-faced seats, but Carol felt giddy looking down towards the rectangular stage. She had come to the conclusion that she just didn't have a head for heights. Anyway, Gray didn't lose his patience with her as she thought he might. He guided her away from the scene and suggested that they call that it as far as the sightseeing was concerned and go and look for some refreshments.

He found them an outdoor table on another part of the castle called the Fiorito Bastion, the flowered bastion, which had the most impressive hanging gardens. While they sipped their drinks and gazed at the views, Stephanie watched Carol and said, 'This is high up. How is it you're not frightened up here?'

'I don't know. I suppose it's because the drop appears to be more gradual,' Carol smiled. She hadn't missed the cattiness in the younger girl's tones, but she paid no attention to it.

She had reason to be reminded of it later, though, when they were making their way back to the coach.

She knew by the way Stephanie was hurrying ahead that she intended to get the seat next to her uncle. There was no doubt that she would have succeeded if it hadn't been for Enrico's tidy mind.

To keep one jump ahead Stephanie went barging in the front way, but the guide was there talking to the driver, and in his booming schoolmaster tones he told her, 'The other door on. Grazie.'

By this time Carol was halfway down the coach. She took the seat she had sat in previously. Gray casually settled himself in beside her. While everyone was ambling aboard and prattling on about the sights they had seen, Stephanie slid into one of the vacant seats and stared morosely out of the window.

As they started out again there was a ripple of excitement amongst the passengers in the coach, for they were now on their way to the Yugoslav border. The high spot of the crossing was the sight of the shops and kiosks selling hand-made goods of the country, and the uniformed Customs men gathering up the passports. They were dour, formidable-looking individuals with penetrating stares, and Carol was glad she had Gray's protective bulk between her and them.

Posonjnska—an unpronounceable name as far as Carol was concerned—where the caves were, was about twenty-five miles inside Yugoslavia. After cruising for some time through countryside not so different from that of Italy, except for the crops growing in the fields and the peasants pushing the ploughs, the coach arrived at their destination. Skirting the town, it drew in at a spot where lots of other coaches were parked, and tourists gathered in an open space flanked by cafes and gay umbrellaed tables.

Carol saw the mouth of the caves, a great yawning black entrance in the hillside, as soon as she stepped down from the coach. She hoped she wasn't going to get an attack of nerves like she had done at the Roman amphitheatre. She knew nothing about caves, and Enrico's information, which he trotted out as he led his party across the space, didn't exactly help her morale. According to him, the grottoes were the second largest in Europe and a colossal number of feet underground.

Inside the entrance, along with the other guides, he turned his group over to the cave attendants and left them to their fate. Much excited laughter arose when it was discovered that cloaks with hoods were being handed out. Apparently it was quite cold below, which to Carol seemed rather ominous.

She took the cloak an attendant tossed her, a rough woollen garment, and put it on feeling like something out of the eighteenth century, Gray looked even more dramatic in his—rather like Doctor Hyde, a character in one of her brother Clive's books, she thought with a twinkle.

Stephanie had rapidly fastened the button at her throat and was already flapping ahead. Carol soon saw why. On rails leading into the tunnel a sort of open train, rows of double seats drawn by a little green engine, was waiting for them. Obviously determined to sit next to her uncle this time, she hovered about, blocking Carol's way until he had chosen a seat, then promptly she dropped in beside him.

The seat was vacant in front of them, so Carol took this one. She felt a little apprehensive at having to sit on her own. She could feel the cold air wafting around her from the tunnel, and as the train started to move towards the craggy opening she had to resist an urge to jump off. Another thing that frightened her horribly was the feeling that they were making straight for the pitted wall which was lit up ahead of them, then at the last moment they swung away from it and continued in another direction.

The train picked up speed and while she was sitting stiff with tension Gray's hand came down on her shoulder. He leaned forward to say close to her above the rattle, 'Keep your head down and your shoulders in.

The walls and roof come in pretty low at times.'

She knew what he meant. As the train jerked and swerved in a dozen different directions the seats shaved damp, encrusted masses of rock and weird overhanging formations. Soon, however, the journey became smoother. The caverns they were entering now were large and airy. Carol began to relax sufficiently to take note of her surroundings. Everywhere was pleasantly lit and to her there was a rather macabre beauty in the huge gnarled arches of rock and the grotesque fissures.

She was feeling a lot easier when the train eventually stopped for everyone to alight; almost to the point of forgetting that they were several hundred feet below the surface. There was so much room everywhere. Indeed, as Gray took her arm on the paved platform, the sight that met her eyes was of space, and yet more space. But that was a poor way to describe a scene which drew a gasp of delight from her lips.

Ahead of them, huge caverns as big as mansion halls were draped with the most fantastic shapes. Jagged stalactites cascaded down over columns of rock, like petrified snow-capped waterfalls. More of these spiky curtains cloaked slender pillars, trailed from crevasses, clefts and ledges, and festooned the roof in clusters, some of which reached almost to the floor.

The natural colours of the caves which were quite astounding, rust reds, silver greys, yellows, ice blues and moss greens, were highlighted by the skilful illuminations. Looking around, Carol thought one could almost imagine oneself in the middle of some rather exotic dream sequence. Except for the cold.

She* shivered and Gray, gripping her arm, said with one of his rare, sloping smiles, 'We'd better keep moving.'

With Stephanie alongside he led the way and for the next half hour or so they followed the dozens of other sightseers making a tour of the caves. There was lots to see. They walked up and down slopes and over hand- railed bridges gazing at twisting chasms below, where other people were walking. Over a swaying suspension bridge with roped sides, they saw the dark waters of the underground lake. And much to both girls' fascination, up alongside the curving walls of one cave a series of naturally formed grottoes, like small shop windows, were lit to show tiny toy and folk figures in various tableaux. Country scenes mainly, there were turning water-wheels and windmills, toadstool tea- parties, and a gnome rhythmically swinging his axe over a pile of logs.

When they came back to the vast hallway of the main cave the Yugoslavian guides, using a variety of different tongues, were describing the various facets of their surroundings to their own respective language groups.

Carol, along with the others, was listening at a distance to the English-speaking guide, when something happened that she was sure she would never forget as long as she lived.

Though she had found the experiences of the last half hour enchanting, she was far from insensible to the fact that they were several hundred feet inside the earth. And secretly she longed for the sunshine and trees and countryside up above. Standing next to Gray now, with Stephanie a little distance away, jumping on tiptoe to try and catch what the guide was saying, she was thinking that it couldn't be much longer before they were making their way back to the train, when suddenly the lights went out. Without any warning, the whole area of the underground caves was plunged into total darkness.

Seeing only blackness everywhere, Carol had to stifle a scream. In those first few seconds all kinds of horrifying thoughts sped through her mind. How were they going to get out? What if they had to stay down here for ever?

Unable to contain her terror, she flung herself against Gray and clung to him. In the darkness his arms came round her and he held her close.

And that was how they were some time later when the lights, just as mysteriously, flashed on again.

The darkness had lasted for possibly no more than a few seconds, but to Carol it had seemed an eternity. And she wasn't the only one who had found it scaring. There were nervous laughs and distinct gusts of relief all around as people, petrified to a stop by the sudden blackness, started to shuffle on their way again. The English-speaking guide, looking just a little paler, continued his chatter with a sickly smile.

Only Stephanie acted a little oddly. Though she was unaffected by the light failure, her gaze, when they were restored, was riveted on Carol locked against Gray. She made no comment, laughing or otherwise, but her dark eyes were lit with that peculiar brilliance before she swung her glance away.

Thankfully Gray didn't linger after the light incident. He led the way back to the train just about to start on its next run to the surface. As he was still close to Carol he sat in the seat beside her. Stephanie, drifting along on her own, dropped into a vacant seat a little way in front of them.

Carol had never been more glad to see daylight. As they left the train at the end of the line and walked out into the sunshine she said with a strained laugh, 'Caves are all right, but I don't think I want to see another one for at least fifty years!'

Gray, his arm still across her shoulders where he had helped her to dispense with her cloak, said with his sloping smile, 'Don't let the faulty lighting put you off. Situations of the kind we experienced down there are probably very rare.'

'Once is enough for me,' Carol laughed. Gray gleamed his amusement down at her as they walked away.

Neither paid much attention to Stephanie scuffing along beside them.

Enrico was across the space, gathering his flock together for the tea-time break. Gray guided Carol into their seat in the coach. Stephanie sat behind them. When everyone was aboard they drove into the town and were given a light meal in a very modern restaurant, its triangular frontage planted with the most magnificent rose trees.

Carol wasn't particularly hungry. Too much was happening today. And as though her heart wasn't full enough Enrico, during the meal, gave details of the final stop on the day's tour. This evening, on their way back through Trieste, he informed them, they were to see a Son et Lumi£re, a play in sound and light, in the park of Miramare Castle.

Carol knew what a Son et Lumi£re was. She had seen one when she had gone on a school trip once to Winchester, and had been fascinated by the eerie effect of amplified voices and clever lighting.

Her eyes were alight with surprised pleasure now as she turned to Gray to exclaim, 'I didn't know we were going to stop at Miramare Castle!'

He gave her his slow smile and said deeply, 'I thought I'd let it come as a surprise.'

After the meal there was a few minutes to spare before returning to the coach. Gray sat and smoked a cigarette, so Carol offered to accompany Stephanie on a stroll round the block. The younger girl accepted loftily. During the walk she kept three or four steps ahead, so there was little opportunity for conversation. In any case Carol was far too lost in her rose-tinted world to want to spoil it with chat.

Peeping down a street, however, pretty with white- faced cottages and flowering tubs placed at intervals along the pavement, she made an effort to be sociable and commented gaily to her companion, 'It's a lovely town, but I wish it had a more pronounceable name than Postojnska.'

While she was laughingly battling to get the name out Stephanie shot her a moody look and said cattily, 'You're so juvenile. Anyone knows the English way to say it is Postumia.'

'Postumia! Yes, that's much less of a mouthful.' Carol smiled about her, blissfully impervious to the barbed tones.

When they got back in sight of the restaurant everyone was making their way across the road to the coach. The girls hurried along and Carol saw Gray giving her a wave from the doorway. By the time they arrived he was waiting for her to precede him into their seat. Though Stephanie had managed to push in front of Carol as they boarded the coach, she had no choice but to go past Gray's bulk to the seat behind them.

Enrico arrived with the coach driver and soon they were on their way towards the Yugoslav border. After the same stern reception at the Customs they trundled off happily on Italian soil again. The coach got caught in the noisy evening traffic in the city of Trieste. Scooters, bicycles and cars jammed around them, and smiling vendors held ice cream on sticks at the windows, 'Gelati! Gelati!'

The coast road was peaceful in comparison. After the suburbs there was only the climbing green hills with their splendid villas and the blue sweep of the Adriatic on the left.

Across the bay on the very tip of the peninsula, Carol could see the icing-sugar shape of Miramare Castle. Veiled by the gathering dusk, its blurred reflection shimmering on the smooth water, to her it seemed steeped. in enchantment.

Round the bay they took the road on to the promontory. The coach park was at the entrance to the castle grounds. There was also a cafe and washing facilities, where everyone in the coach party was only too glad to rinse away the dust of travel and freshen up generally.

Her face scrubbed and glowing with the outdoors, her hair combed smooth, Carol dabbed a touch of eau- de-cologne at her wrists and throat and felt wonderfully revived. In the washrooms she waited for Stephanie, who coolly took her time, then they joined Gray on the castle drive. He looked fit and casually well-groomed after washing. His hair curled damply about his ears.

They had to wait until dark for the Son et Lumfere, so like everyone else they spent the time exploring the park of Miramare castle. From the start Carol was in raptures. Never before had she wandered in so magnificent a setting. Cedar, pine, willow and palm and many other trees drenched in the most fantastic greenery, adorned the lawns which sloped on all sides to the sea. Following their flowing lines, sets of balustraded steps led to sunken gardens, ornamental ponds, stone fountains and green trailing loggias.

In the fading light Carol waltzed from tree to tree along the terraces, hazarding a guess at their names. Stephanie, beside her, contradicted her on every occasion. On a green slope Carol trailed her fingers through a cloud of shimmering leaves and laughed, 'I'm sure it's a mulberry.'

'Rubbish!' Stephanie carped. 'Anyone can see it's an aspen.'

'You're both wrong,' Gray dropped an arm negligently across Carol's shoulder to smile drily. 'It's an Italian poplar.'

A thin crescent of moon was showing in the sky when they eventually made their way along with the rest of the coach party and Enrico to the wide grandstands erected over the sea. Tourists in other groups were already sorting seats out for themselves for the Son et Lumfere, English version, about to commence. Making one's way along the narrow aisles was a tricky business in the dark. Gray moved in first and took Carol's hand, leading her along after him. Carol would have taken Stephanie's hand to guide her in, but the younger girl apparently preferred to be independent.

The grandstand faced across a small inlet towards the castle, which loomed up on its jutting headland. At the moment it was clothed in green and yellow scarves of light and cast its reflection perfectly on the mirror- black waters in front of them. Carol had to be guided into her seat by Gray, for she couldn't take her eyes off the spectacle. Stephanie had already flopped down on the other side of her-

Among the pillars beneath her seat Carol could hear the waves breaking with a gentle splash. She shivered with a feeling of delicious anticipation. Gray took the jacket from her knee and said deeply, holding it for her to slip her arms into, 'You need this on.'

They had just settled down when the floodlights playing on the castle went out. For Carol this wasn't the ugly experience of the caves. Above her was the star- sprinkled sky, and all around, the glistening stretch of gently lapping water. She could feel Gray's shoulder brushing hers. Fleetingly she felt a raw ache inside her, reminding her that very soon now they would be leaving Italy. In a week perhaps, certainly no more, she would be back in England. Home with her family. And Gray....

A chorus of voices floating across the water opened the performance, and quickly she pushed the unhappy thought to the back of her mind.

Her gaze was riveted by a single ray of light striking the sphinx-like figure which sat at the end of the little dock opposite, as though keeping a watch on the castle and its park. Then the voice of the custodian of the castle began to recall the story of Maximilian of Haps- burg and his consort, Charlotte, daughter of King Leopold of the Belgians.

He recounted how the young man first reached this romantic corner of the Triestine Riviera one autumn afternoon, and fascinated by the place's beauty, decided to build a castle there for his bride. The custodian recalled the stupendous parties that took place later and the radiantly-lit salons. But all too soon the Emperor Maximilian had to leave his wife to fight a war in Mexico.

He sailed away one April morning in 1864 and never returned, for he was shot by the Mexicans. The boat carrying his remains sailed silently past the Castle of Miramare where Charlotte was left to wander in delirium.

Once the outline of the plot had been given the drama started. The r61es were acted by the place itself. Almost by a miracle the castle transformed itself into a fairy-tale vision. Swift rays of changing hues that seemed to originate in space struck its white bulk, making the battlemented contours stand out sharply in the dark in variegated colours. The windows, the galleries, the balconies, the garden pathways all suddenly came alive; while melodious music and mysterious voices rose above the steady murmur of the surf.

Watching breathlessly, Carol was swept away by a magic suggestion of reality. She actually felt as though she was re-living in that atmosphere the tragic events of a hundred years ago.

She wasn't sure how Gray's arm came to be around her. Perhaps she shivered again. Transported on a fantastic voyage into the world of the past, she had no idea she was nestled close to him until the last rumbles of war died away and the chorus of voices brought the play to a close.

Even then, though people were leaving their seats all around her, she couldn't stir. Her eyes bright with sadness, she could still see Charlotte roaming the rooms of the castle.

Close against her, Gray said softly, 'Time to go.'

She sighed dreamily and prepared to rise. In the darkness she knew that Stephanie was standing waiting for her and watching her. She could feel those dark eyes burning a hole through her as she stirred against Gray. She was struck by their unnatural brilliance before the younger girl turned abruptly and led the way out.

Everyone was glad to tumble back on to the coach which was waiting for them with revving engine in the car park. It had been a long day and there was nothing to do now except doze on the dark drive back to Venice. Soon they were under way and Carol, still dreamy, felt her head dropping occasionally towards Gray's shoulder as they sped along.

Stephanie had found herself a spare seat a little in front of them and sat with her gaze directed out of the window. Enrico, his work finished for the day, was as eager as everyone else to get back to the Lido and a late dinner at the hotel. A little worn, he stirred his flock into activity when the coach finally arrived back at the lagoon, checking that no one had been left dozing in their seat before he led the way over to the launch.

The coach on the Lido side had to drop several couples and groups off at various hotels on the way, so that it was after ten when the last small party arrived back at the Albany. Hurriedly they used the downstairs cloakrooms for freshening up, then filed in to dinner in an almost deserted restaurant.

Carol, lost in the romantic world of Maximilian and his bride, dined dreamily. When the meal was at an end she floated off sleepily with Stephanie up to their rooms and fell thankfully into bed.

She arose fresh but with a feeling of being keyed up in some way. As the girls washed and dressed ready to go downstairs Stephanie had nothing to say. Carol put her morose mood down to overtiredness and lightly overlooked it.

Over breakfast Gray told them that he would be leaving for Venice immediately afterwards. He didn't say so, but Carol knew that he was going to wind up his work affairs there. She clung to every moment that he sat with them in the late September sunshine on the dining terrace, knowing that when he returned they would be packing their bags for England.

CHAPTER ELEVEN

THEY were strange days, those while Gray was away. Carol spent the time aching to see him striding back into the Albany, yet dreading the sight of him because it meant the end of their stay in Italy. Stephanie's behaviour only served to make the atmosphere more strained. Her manner was moody and cold and if Carol spoke to her she could only expect a waspish remark in reply.

Nothing she said or did pleased and whatever she suggested they do to pass the time Stephanie chose something different.

A little tired of the carping tones, Carol said to her light-heartedly one afternoon when they were preparing' for the beach, 'What's got into you these days? You haven't had so much as a smile since we came back from Trieste.'

Once again she knew she had said the wrong thing, and there was no doubt that her mere presence was the chief source of irritation, for Stephanie turned on her with that odd brilliant light shining in her eyes and snatching up her towel snapped, 'You think just because you're part of a big family and you live in a house full of dotty women, you've got everything!'

Carol had long since given up trying to make any sense out of these kind of remarks, but she had to admit that Stephanie's brittle mood worried her. It filled the air with tension and made normal conversation between them impossible.

Gray's coming ought to have eased the situation, but it didn't. He arrived one afternoon just when the girls were leaving the restaurant after lunch. Carol saw him the moment he strode in from outside. As his gaze spotted her across the foyer she thought it held an eager light.

Perhaps Stephanie noticed something of this sort too, for she pushed herself in front of Carol and skipping over to him, she swung on his arm to plead, 'Gray! Will you come to the beach with me this afternoon?'

Though Carol was patently ignored in this request Gray's brown eyes rested on her as he said with a lazy gleam, 'Give me half an hour to unwind, then I'll race you to the water.'

Carol's heart leapt at his words. Obviously he didn't plan to leave Italy just yet. Upstairs as she changed she hummed a little tune to herself. She could hear Stephanie in the next room singing in a loud voice for her benefit.

Gray was in the foyer waiting for them when they went down. He had changed from his city suit and was as Carol liked to see him, in his big fleecy bathrobe with a towel turned round his neck.

On the way through the gardens Stephanie monopolised his time and his attention, chattering about nonsensical things and dancing in front of him. But Carol didn't mind. It was enough for her that Gray was here strolling alongside her.

There were no more than a dozen people on the hotel stretch of beach. The sun had that orange glow which heralds autumn. It gave a rather forlorn touch to the rows of empty sun beds and the deserted cafe tables. Emilio, the young boatman whom they had come £o know during the summer, still touted for customers along the stretch of shoreline. But it was doubtful whether he would find enough to make a trip in the picturesque old barque, floating out at sea, worth while.

Carol would have been content to lounge just where the three of them had dropped down, for the afternoon. And she knew that Gray, relaxing on his sun bed beside her, was settled. But Stephanie was not in the mood for lying unnoticed. Putting herself firmly in the picture, she kept on at Gray about his promise to race her to the water.

After half an hour or so Gray stirred himself reluctantly. As Stephanie eagerly grabbed his hand to pull him away with her, he turned to where Carol was lying beside him and with his lazy gleam drew her to her feet too.

Stephanie watched the action with eyes which seemed to Carol to shine like blades of steel. With an unnatural laugh she led the race to the sea.

The water was chilly as Carol had expected it would be. She shivered until Gray came to swing her up against him and around in the water to get the circulation going. Laughing, she was too bemused by his near ness to feel any inclination to swim.

Stephanie floundered in their tracks, ceasing a moment when Gray was catching his breath to fling herself at him. He spun her round good-naturedly before paddling off to have a word with Emilio who was watching them at the edge of the waves.

In his ragged shorts the young boatman was as tanned and weathered as an old tree with his outdoor existence. His teeth gleamed white in his brown face when he smiled, and his hair was coal-black and curly.

Carol was watching him and Gray talking in their pigeon-Italian together when she became aware that Stephanie was splashing and swimming gaily alongside her. Glad that the younger girl felt disposed to having a game with her, she joined in willingly.

They laughed and darted about, then Stephanie with her strangely lit eyes said suddenly, turning her face out to sea, 'Let's swim out to the boat.'

'Don't be silly,' Carol laughed breathlessly. 'It's much too far.'

'Oh, come on! Don't be such an old woman.' Stephanie started out, sending her a taunting look.

Carol's blood ran cold when she saw that the younger girl really intended to make for the boat.

'Stephanie!' she called sharply, treading water. 'Come back at once! We'll never swim that far today.' But the dark head was already lost amongst the wavelets whipped up by a cool breeze.

Teeth chattering, Carol struck out after her worriedly. 'Stephanie, don't be an idiot! Come back here!' Though she called with all her strength, her voice was but a puny sound on the heaving water.

She decided to save her energy and swam for all she was worth. She planned to shake some sense into the younger girl when she caught her'. If only she could get up some speed! Her limbs felt stiff and awkward. She was afraid she had let herself get too cold so that now just swimming at all was a terrific effort.

She began to have an awful feeling that Stephanie was finding it chilly too. The younger girl wasn't moving with anywhere near the speed with which she had started out, and they were still some distance away from the old barque.

Surrounded by the green swell, her heart banging from the effort of staying afloat, Carol was conscious now of one thing. She had to get to Stephanie. And she had to get to her quick. She was only a child and even less capable of making it to the boat than Carol was herself.

No sooner had she had these thoughts than she saw the dark-headed figure, just a few yards in front of her, begin to flounder dreadfully. Carol's fear made her lose her own sense of rhythm and she was hit by a wave which made her cough agonisingly.

She struggled on with the desperate feeling that she was making no headway at all. And then it came—the sound .she had been dreading. A terrible cry rang out over the water, and before Carol's horrified gaze Stephanie disappeared beneath the surface.

The shock seemed to freeze her own limbs. When she should have been going like the wind she could do nothing except choke and fight weakly in the powerful grip of the swell. The water was all around her, in her eyes. She couldn't see through it now. There was a thunderous singing in her ears. And suddenly she was tired of fighting…

It seemed that she had spent all her life in caverns of swirling green mist, floating with a terrible weight strapped to her. Her chest ached, her head was bursting, her whole body felt as though it was being squeezed in a giant hand.

In the dark distant tunnels she spun through she forgot the colour of the sky, until quite unexpectedly she caught a glimmer of its blueness through the wet blur of her lashes.

Unbelievingly she opened her eyes and found herself lying on the deck of what must be the boat that she and Stephanie had been trying so hard to reach.

The memory of those terrifying moments shooting through her, she sat up with a painful gasp. It was only then that she saw Gray, dripping and white-faced, bending over her. As she began to cough violently he held her against him and said shakily, 'You little fool! You almost drowned!'

Carol leaned blissfully against him. As she did so she saw Stephanie. The younger girl was sitting up a little distance away, a dripping Emilio still supporting her. Pale, but recovered, she had a wild look which had nothing to do with her recent experience in the sea. Her eyes which were fixed on Gray, dripping and holding Carol's bedraggled frame close to him, held a look of shocked incredulity as though they refused to believe what they saw. Carol couldn't make out whether the brittle glitter in them was of sea water or tears.

Two of Emilio's boatmen friends, who had obviously witnessed the rescues, came hurrying up the hatches with blankets. Gray took one and threw it around Carol as she tottered to her feet. He gripped her and assisted her to a deck seat where she sat down, teeth chattering. Another request from him and she had a warming drink in her shaking hands.

Emilio went over the side to bring his little powered boat alongside. Carol was feeling slightly more recovered by the time he returned. She managed to get down to the craft swathed in her blanket with Gray's assistance. He turned to swing Stephanie in after her, then Emilio was speeding them back to the shore.

Luckily the hotel stretch of beach was deserted by this time. The sun had lost its warmth and no one had bothered to stay in the cool breezes of late afternoon. The girls were able to step out of the boat, shivering and dishevelled, with no one to notice them.

The salt water drying on him, his face still pale and taut, Gray shook Emilio's hand warmly. The young boatman, none the worse for his dip, gave Stephanie a comforting hug to coax a smile out of her, before handing her over to her uncle. He told them he would pick up the blankets later at the hotel, then sailed away with his engaging grin.

Gray turned an arm around Carol's shoulders as she swayed on the sand and asked, 'Do you think you can make it to the hotel?'

'Of course I can,' she smiled through chattering teeth. 'I'm perfectly all right now.' It wasn't quite the truth, but something in the haggard way Gray looked at her made her want to reassure him.

He collected their things from the sun beds, cold now in the shadows, and guided her towards the gardens. Stephanie, a dripping, forlorn figure, scuffed silently alongside them.

At the hotel Gray escorted them upstairs to their apartment. 'Get into bed and stay there until morning,' he ordered, depositing them inside. 'I'll have a meal sent up to you later.'

Carol, her lids heavy with fatigue, didn't need telling twice. As the door closed behind them she swayed off to her room and sank down into a chair in her damp blanket.

After a few moments she stirred herself to rise and strip off. She could hear Stephanie sluicing down in the bathroom. Lacking the strength and the will to do the same herself, she dried off, pulled on a nightgown and dropped into bed. Utterly spent, she closed her eyes and after a few moments listening to the pounding inside her head, she knew no more.

How long she slept she had no idea. It was dark when she finally stirred. She lay as though drugged for several minutes before switching on the bedside light to peer at her watch. It was ten to eleven.

She rose and slipped on a dressing gown. The apartment was all in darkness. Stephanie must still be asleep. She switched on a small table lamp and crept about so as not to disturb her. On a chair beside the outside door someone had placed a covered tray. Carol carried it over to the table and found plates of salad, glasses of milk and fruit jellies. The sight of food reminded her how hungry she was.

Quietly she dined listening to the distant surf falling on the beach. It was possible to hear it now that the clamour of summer with its noisy, laughing holiday- makers, had come to an end. Way down below the balcony windows there was no clatter of crockery and chink of wine glasses. The evenings were too cool now for what guests there were to dine out on the terrace. The only other murmur besides that of the waves breaking was the swish and flutter of chestnut leaves being tugged from the trees by the autumn breezes.

It was a depressing sound and it made Carol all the more aware of the deep silence inside the apartment. She wasn't at all sure that it was good for Stephanie to sleep right through until morning. She ought to have a meal. The tick of the little travelling clock over on a wall shelf seemed to dominate the stillness.

Carol rose dabbing her lips and feeling an odd stab of apprehension. Everything was too quiet. What if Stephanie were ill? She had seemed none the worse after her foolish prank this afternoon, but she was only a child. She might have developed a fever, be unconscious ... anything!

Carol worked herself into quite a state on the way to Stephanie's bedroom, so that when she opened the door, what she found inside was a shock of another kind.

The bed was empty; neatly made up, just as the hotel maid had left it this morning.

Carol stared at it blankly for some moments before the fact registered that Stephanie, far from being ill as she had expected, was not even here.

She looked around the room. Everything was normal. So normal she felt the icy cold finger of fear trailing down her spine. Why hadn't Stephanie gone to bed as she had been told to do this afternoon? Where was she now?

Carol looked at her watch. It was almost eleven- thirty. Her heart banging against her ribs, she dressed quickly. Her hands trembled so badly she could hardly turn the key in the lock when she went out.

The lift downstairs had never gone so slow. She drummed her fingers on the door waiting for it to come to a stop. All was silent in the dimly lit foyer. She went through the deserted lounge and even out to the pool, now all in darkness.

White-faced, she retraced her steps, her mind racing back over their near-disastrous swim this afternoon, and later when they had been recovering on the deck. She had noticed the way Stephanie had looked at her as Gray had held her dripping against him. The odd wild light in that dark brown gaze had troubled Carol then, and she had felt a deep unease at it even in her sleep. Now the memory of it flooded back to fill her with an all-consuming dread.

She practically ran the rest of the way to the reception desk. It was a simple matter to get Gray's room number once she had dug the night receptionist out of his little back office. She hurried to the lift on the other side of the foyer and took it up to the appropriate floor. She found the right door after a panic-stricken hunt along several wrong turnings. She pushed the bell with all her strength.

Gray came to the door. Her pounding heart jolted slightly at the sight of him in silk dressing gown tied loosely over open-necked shirt and slacks. His brow knitted in surprise when he saw her. His brown gaze searching her white working features, he asked harshly, 'What's wrong?'

'It's Stephanie.' Carol pushed past him inside the room. She had a blurred impression of a small lounge with papers scattered around and an open briefcase on a chair. She turned and said in strangled tones, 'She's not in bed. I can't find her anywhere.'

Gray closed the door watching her. 'She's probably in the hotel somewhere,' he said with a shrug.

'She isn't. I've looked.' Carol wrung her hands and paced, then swung on him with a tear-starred gaze. 'Oh, don't you see? She's gone! Run away! And it's all my fault... and yours,' she flung at him, too overwrought to care what she was saying. 'All your niece wanted was a little of your time. But you're always so busy,' she waved an arm disparagingly at his papers, 'you don't even know she exists. You've spent all summer dragging her round the sights of Italy when all she needs is a little love. But what do you know about love?" she sobbed at him. 'You're just a machine!'

His own face ashen, Gray gripped her by the shoulders. 'Carol, calm down,' he said gently.

Carol tried to shake free, filled with her own guilt. She had allowed herself to fall steadily in love with Gray, not caring that Stephanie had been watching it happen. Knowing something now of the younger girl's misery, she flung her tear-filled glance at Gray and in high-pitched tones quivered at him again, 'Don't you see? You're all she has. That mad swim of hers this afternoon was a last frantic bid to spotlight your neglect of her. She was willing to go that far to gain your attention, and you had to save me.'

'You were drowning, child,' Gray said quietly. "What did you expect me to do?'

Stopping her struggles for a moment, Carol looked at him as he held her. In his eyes she read something which she had hardly dared to believe, something which made her whole body tremble with delight. But instead of rejoicing she recoiled from him and said in anguished tones, 'Oh no! That makes it worse.'

Gray drew her close, but Carol could only think of Stephanie. 'We'll find her,' he said soothingly, his face haggard. 'Now come and sit down.'

He led her to a chair and poured her a drink. 'Sip it slowly. It'll pull you together a bit.' He handed her the glass. 'I'll go and get dressed.'

He appeared a few minutes later in a light suit. Carol jumped up and they went to the door. Outside he gave her directions along the corridors and told her, 'You go to your room and see if you can find any clues as to where Stephanie might have gone. I'll go downstairs and do what I can.'

Carol found her way back to the apartment and opened the door, hoping with all her heart that she would find a pert little dark-haired figure there. But the rooms were empty and silent, just as she had left them.

She^-wandered around Stephanie's bedroom, not knowing what she was looking for. Everything was the same as she had always known it, slightly cluttered but with a modicum of tidiness.

Aftet some minutes had passed the bell rang. She went to let Gray in, her gaze searching his face anxiously. She told him on the way to Stephanie's room, 'All her clothes are here. Nothing is any different. The only thing that appears to be missing is her handbag, so presumably she's taken money with her.'

Gray nodded and glanced around the room, his face grim with concern. He turned back out into the lounge to say, 'I've had a word with some of the staff downstairs. Old Luigi, one of the night porters, knows her. He said he saw her at the landing stage when he came in, catching a launch for Venice.'

'Venice?' The blood drained from Carol's face. Her mind working horribly, she stumbled blindly to her room. 'We must go and find her.'

As she snatched up her handbag Gray stood behind her swaying figure and asked levelly, 'Do you think you're fit to go out tonight?'

'Oh, how can I worry about me?' She whirled on him in angry exasperation.

He glanced around the room, picked up a garment, looking at it to make sure it was what he thought it was, then throwing the fleecy cardigan round her shoulders, he told her, 'You look like death. Put this on.'

Impatiently she struggled into it and hurried to the door. Gray reached it before her to open it. He strode alongside her towards the lift. Downstairs they walked quickly across the silent foyer. The night air was cold. She was glad now that Gray had had the sense to think of the cardigan.

They took a taxi to the landing stage. It was almost deserted. But for a handful of Italian fishermen, she and Gray had the launch to themselves. In the darkness, a sharp salty tang heavy on the breeze, Gray stood staring out towards the lights of the city. Carol, watching his flexing jaw, knew that like her, he was gravely worried. It was now almost one o'clock. Stephanie was only fifteen, and in a city the size of Venice.... Quickly she shut off her thoughts and willed the boat to go faster.

From the Riva Schiavoni landing stage, they went straight to St Mark's Square. The crowds were as thick as ever in the tourist section, late-night visitors, the usual nocturnal Venetians, and uniformed personnel.

As Carol merged and raked every face that passed by, Gray strolled close beside her. Occasionally when a pair of dark eyes appeared a little too friendly he dropped an arm negligently across her shoulders.

He left it to her to know where to look. She chose the route the girls had taken on the night that Stephanie had made that other wild trip to Venice. Outside the restaurants and places of entertainment she searched the crowds, looking for a pathetically painted little face, a pile of dark hair pinned up rakishly on top of a small head, all to no avail. Stephanie was nowhere to be seen.

Her quest led her eventually to the garish ballroom, beside the canal. It looked more tawdry than ever with its open front and couples shaking to the sound of shrieking brass trumpets.

As they approached Gray took Carol's arm and led her to the grillework screen at the entrance. 'You wait here,' he said firmly. 'I'll look inside.'

He said something at the pay desk, then walked in. Carol used the time straining her gaze to search the faces of the couples on the dance floor. She waited eagerly for Gray, willing him to return with Stephanie in tow.

So intent was she in trying to pick out that small familiar face that a strange arm had slid round her waist before she knew what was happening, and a deep voice, heavily accented, said close to her ear, 'All alone? Now that is a shame!'

Startled, Carol turned to find herself gazing into the somewhat flabby features of a dark-eyed Italian. She could smell the perfumed pomade on his hair and felt the heat from his paunchy frame. She didn't like him, but she was too polite to show her distaste. She preferred, if she could, to sidle away from him without hurting his feelings. However, she was given no opportunity to try, for in that moment Gray appeared.

His eyes showing their steely light, he strode in and taking a grip on Carol's shoulder under the Italian's nose, he said tersely, 'Sorry, we're just leaving.'

The paunchy man in his tight-fitting suit bowed and with a leering smile replied smoothly, 'My mistake, signore.'

Gray ushered her outside. 'No luck,' he told her when they were walking away. He added grimly, 'We'd better get back to the hotel. There's nothing more we can do tonight.'

Though Carol was loath to give up trying she knew that he was right. It was senseless this trudging around the city and she was almost too exhausted to care any more.

His arm supporting her, Gray took over on the route back. He used public transport where it was possible and got them back to the launch in a matter of minutes.

They were both silent on the journey across to the Lido. Carol knew that, like her, Gray was fully occupied with the gnawing worry inside.

She prayed silently that they would find Stephanie back at the hotel apartment; that this was just another of her foolish games. But when they arrived at the Albany, and Gray escorted her from the lift upstairs to open the door for her, all was in darkness, and Stephanie's room was empty.

'Get some sleep,' Gray told Carol, grey-faced. 'You're worn out. I'll take over from here.' He left her swaying off to her bedroom, closing the door after him as he went out.

Numb with fatigue, Carol undressed. She felt a strong urge to burst into tears at the empty room next door, but she knew it would do no good. And besides, Stephanie would be all right wherever she was. She had, to be all right. Sure she wouldn't sleep, Carol sank into bed and lay thinking, her mind raw with worry. But after a while she fell into an uneasy doze. She slept fitfully until morning.

She went down to breakfast at the usual time. Gray was waiting for her in the foyer. His face drawn from lack of sleep, he told her as they walked into the restaurant, 'I've got everyone out looking for her. We can do nothing now but wait.'

Wait! If Carol lived to be a hundred she would never forget those days. She rose mechanically each morning, ate mechanically opposite Gray at meal-times and fell into bed drained at night. During the rest of her waking hours she paced the apartment, hurrying to the balcony windows every few moments in the hope of spotting a familiar dark-haired little figure down below.

There was no news of Stephanie. No one had seen her after she had taken the launch to Venice. She had disappeared as surely as if she had never been.

Carol became a thin shadow of herself. She found it difficult to eat. Although careworn himself, Gray made her tackle some of every course when they dined in the lightly populated restaurant. 'Your cracking up is not going to help anything,' he told her tightly.

A week after the nightmare had begun he was badgering her as usual at the lunch table when a sudden thought made him stop in mid-sentence and snap his fingers, 'Aniello! If anyone can find Stephanie, he can. He knows Venice inside out.'

'But he's finished doing the guide trips now, surely.' Carol didn't dare let her spirits rise.

'The hotel will know where he is.' Gray rose and went off at once.

The little guide didn't take much locating. He arrived dtiring the afternoon. Carol and Gray were waiting for him in the hotel lounge. Having heard briefly what the trouble was he marched up to them, his smiling face creased with concern.

He sat in an armchair and listened to all that Gray had to say. When he had finished Aniello rose to his diminutive height and said with that dynamic assurance of his, 'I will do what I can.' But his sympathetic smile was a way of saying gently, 'Don't expect too much.'

He left them to return immediately to Venice.

Carol spent the rest of the afternoon drifting round the apartment. It was impossible to settle to anything. She went into Stephanie's bedroom for the hundredth time and fingered over her possessions. Any sound from below sent her flying immediately to the balcony windows, but it was always just the trickle of guests wandering in the grounds.

The clientele of the Albany was now mainly elderly couples and tired business men and their wives, taking an autumn break, or escaping for a few days from the rigours of the city. Carol was used to seeing Gray, looking harassed, passing the time of day with one or another of the guests down there on the terrace.

On one of her vigilant trips out on to the balcony towards the end of the afternoon, she spotted him standing in the fading sunshine, beside a tall thick-set man and a smaller attractive woman. Watching his earnest conversation, Carol swung away impatiently and went back to her pacing inside. How could he just stand there talking? she asked herself, bursting with tearful frustration. They ought to be out looking for Stephanie, or at least doing something.

Another night drew in. Wearily she went down to eat. Every time she looked at Gray across the table during dinner, she told herself it was their fault. If they hadn't been so wrapped up in each other they would have sensed Stephanie's loneliness. They were the ones who had driven her away.

Carol convinced herself of this almost to the point of breaking up. She knew that Gray too was feeling the strain keenly.

CHAPTER TWELVE

CAROL dragged herself off to her room after dinner and lay until the early hours staring wet-eyed into the darkness.

At breakfast there was the usual scattering of guests at the tables. Afterwards Carol went back upstairs. Full of despair, she was drifting round the apartment, preparing herself for another day of waiting when the bell rang.

She went and opened the door to find Gray there. He strode into the room and looked at her in her light dress. 'Get a coat,' he said briskly. 'Aniello's on to something. He's just rung up.'

Her heart leaping into her eyes, Carol looked at him to ask tremblingly, 'Is it good news?'

'He wouldn't say.' Gray strode into her bedroom and came back with a white summer coat. He threw it round her shoulders and scooped her towards the door, telling her as they went out, 'He wants us to meet him in Venice.'

Carol's legs were almost too weak to carry her as the ' two of them made for the lift. Downstairs, Gray hurried her across the foyer and out to a waiting taxi.

The wind was cold at the landing stage. The crossing on the launch was the longest she had ever known. Her heart pumped out a rhythm to the swish of the engines. Her mouth was dry as she tried to guess what they would find across the water. Both hope and fear rose within her.

On the Venice side Gray scooped her along through St Mark's Square. They had quite a way to go from there. They did part of the journey by water-bus and the rest on foot.

Eventually they arrived at the corner of some back streets where Aniello was waiting for them. His face inscrutable, he said, waving a hand, 'Come with me, please.'

Carol threw a scared look at Gray. She couldn't have gone on without his support.

Aniello took them towards a dilapidated building set amongst shabby dwellings and tenement blocks. The exterior was carved and ornate like many of the rundown palaces in Venice, but with its high arched windows and plain wooden doors it looked like a school or an institute of some kind.

'The Bonvecchiati Mission,' Aniello enlightened them with the glimmer of a smile.

He led them round to the back and up to one of the tall dusty windows which looked out on to a strip of waste ground. 'See,' he invited, rubbing a patch of dust away from the window for their benefit.

Her head close to Gray's, Carol looked inside. She saw a huge stone-floored interior lit mainly by fanlights in the roof. Small children ran up and down noisily, and one or two older boys were hammering at a bench.

Down at the far end were the kitchens with huge steaming vats on the boil and white scrubbed tables. There were several female figures about, but one in particular, carefully filling salt-cellars over a tray, made Carol's heart spiral up into her throat.

Neat in a striped overall which was slightly too big for her, her face scrubbed, her hair piled up to give her the look of a mature little eighteen-year-old, was an unmistakable figure.

'It's Stephanie!' Carol gasped, half laughing.

'It is indeed,' Gray said with a worn smile, his relief matching hers.

Radiantly Carol swung round on the little guide and almost grabbed him. 'Aniello! I could kiss you!' she sparkled.

With a twinkle the guide gave her his cheek and said with sly humour, 'Please do so quickly. My wife has many friends in the neighbourhood.'

Gray, watching as he was smothered in a hug, said with a dry gleam, 'You've come off better than me in this, Aniello.'

'Perhaps you should live in Venice, signore,' the little guide replied with an amused light.

When he had straightened himself out he beckoned them, 'Come.'

They went round to the front and in through huge double doors. Inside there was a kind of tiled anteroom with chairs against the wall beneath rows of pictures, and one or two trailing green plants on tall pedestals.

Aniello spoke in rapid Italian to the teenage boy who was cleaning the brass knobs on doors leading into a chequered hallway. As he hurried off, the guide told them, 'Signor Cassiano, who runs the mission, is a good friend of mine. He knows you are coming.'

Presently a man in a dark smock came along the hall. Though he was elderly he walked with an upright step. He and Aniello greeted each other in the effusive way that Italians do, then the guide introduced Gray and Carol to him and presumably explained the business of Stephanie.

Signor Cassiano nodded. His English was more hesitant than Aniello's, but he spoke it well as he explained, 'We found her roaming the streets alone. She wouldn't tell us her name or where she belonged.' He shrugged his shoulders with a kindly light. 'Many people come to us. They don't want to be known. We respect their wishes. Although,' he smiled, 'if we had known your niece was so young I don't think we would have kept silent.'

Gray accepted his explanation. He shook his hand warmly and thanked him for all he had done.

Signor Cassiano shrugged again as though it was as natural as breathing to him to give shelter to those who needed it. He turned towards the hall and suggested, 'Shall we go to her?'

Carol started to follow him. Before he joined her Gray said something to Aniello, who nodded and went out into the street.

They walked along the hall and across a cluttered courtyard to rough paint-peeling doors. The noise was quite deafening when Signor Cassiano stepped inside and invited them to follow. Carol saw that they were in the large enclosed space they had peeped at from outside. As she walked with Gray down towards the kitchen section, children raced and tumbled about, their voices echoing up to the fanlight roof.

Her gaze searched eagerly for the little overalled figure she had seen earlier. Her heart beat unevenly when she couldn't find it. Then she spotted her coming through an open doorway from outside, an empty bowl in her hand.

She had put down the bowl and was just turning when her lacklustre gaze caught sight of the visitors. Her pale face became suffused with colour. Her eyes shone with a new brightness as Carol hurried towards her.

'Stephanie!' She threw her arms round her as if she had been one of her own younger sisters.

For several seconds they hugged, laughed and gulped tears. Gray stood over them saying to his niece with flinty humour, 'Remind me to put you over my knee some time, young woman!'

Carol didn't know what to say. The moment was too charged with emotion to do anything but to cling to each other. She was just about to find her tongue when Stephanie looked past her. Her brown eyes had widened unbelievingly.

Carol followed her gaze and was startled to see the same couple whom Gray had been talking to yesterday on the terrace at the Albany coming in the door at the far end. She was even more flabbergasted when she heard Stephanie say, floating away from her in a dream, 'It's my mother!'

The younger girl was soon running as fast as her flapping overall would allow. 'Mummy!'

The dark-haired, attractive woman came forward, her arms outstretched. 'Stephanie darling!'

The hugs, laughter and tears, plus delighted chatter, started all over again.

Gray dropped an arm round Carol's shoulder and said, guiding her towards the door nearest to them, 'I don't think we're needed here any more.'

Carol allowed him to lead her out and across a strip of waste ground into the street, saying with a dazed smile as they went, 'Was that really Stephanie's mother and father?'

Gray nodded. 'I got in touch with them soon after she disappeared.' He gave Carol his flinty gleam. 'I laid it on the line to them in the same way you sounded off at me. I think I made them see they've got a daughter who needs a home.'

'How did they know we were here?' Carol asked.

'They booked in at my hotel in Venice to conduct their own search for Stephanie,' Gray said. 'When I got the tip from Aniello I gave them a ring and told them where he had asked us to meet him. They're not very familiar with the city, so they probably had a job finding the place. I sent Aniello out from the mission to keep a look-out for them.'

'And now they're all together again.' Carol walked close to Gray and gave a happy sigh at the world in general. 'Isn't life wonderful?'

Gray slanted her a jaded smile and said with feeling, 'What we both need is a drink.'

He guided her back the way they had come and through the city until they came to the little canal-side hotel where she had stayed once before.

In the velvet-draped corner lounge, he ordered her a coffee and something stronger for himself.

As they sat soaking up the peace Carol began to feel the reaction of more than a week of tension. A heavy lethargy overtook her limbs. Her eyelids became weighty with the warmth of the room. From far away she heard Gray say, 'You'd better rest here before we go back to the Albany.'

As he drew her to her feet she said with a washed-out sigh, 'All I want to do is just sleep and sleep.'

He booked her a room, and she was led away up the carpeted stairs towards the back of the building. The porter opened the door on a single white-counterpaned bed and a window looking across the rooftops. Carol didn't notice any more. She closed the door, stripped to her underslip and slid between the cool sheets. Nothing had ever felt more wonderful than the soft pillow beneath her head. She closed her eyes and remembered no more.

It seemed days later when she stirred drowsily to the sound of someone opening and closing the door softly. Then she heard a voice whispering close to her ear, 'Carol! It's me—Stephanie.' Carol opened her eyes to see a radiant little face above her. 'I'm going back to the Albany now to pack,' Stephanie told her as she stretched luxuriously. 'Then I'm going to Beirut with my parents.' She sat on the bed bursting with news. 'Daddy's going to start a business in London. He's going to buy somewhere close to Rowan House for us to live, so I'll be able to come and see you all the time when you and Gray get married.'

Carol laughed, 'He hasn't asked me yet!'

'But he's going to. He told me,' Stephanie said with the indiscretion of youth.

All warm and glowing, Carol asked, 'Are your mother and father downstairs?'

'Yes. They wanted to meet you,' Stephanie nodded, 'but Gray said you weren't to be disturbed. He only let me come up to say goodbye.' She dropped a kiss on her cheek. 'Bye, Carol. I expect I'll be seeing you soon.' She made her way to the door saying with shining eyes, 'I've got to go now. Mummy's waiting for me.'

Carol blew her a kiss as she went out, then drifted back off to sleep.

*

The light was fading from the sky when she finally awoke, refreshed. After a few moments to accustom herself to the idea she rose and slipped on her dress. She found the bathroom and braved a cold shower, returning to her bedroom feeling better than she had done for a week. It was a simple matter to run a comb through her hair. When it was smooth on her shoulders she picked up her coat and went downstairs.

Gray lowered his paper and rose when she walked in the lounge. Her heart swelled with love at the sight of him. Shyly her eyes held his as they met. He took her arm and said deeply, 'Let's eat.'

The restaurant was a circular room with curving windows looking out on to the canal. The dark waters danced under the dappled lights of the wall lamps. Most of the tables were full. From where they sat with a view of the little bridge spanning the canal, Carol glanced down at herself. She was still wearing the dress she had rushed out from the Albany in this morning. Gray was in one of his business suits which had a tendency to make him look severe, only his face wasn't severe tonight when he looked at her.

The courses weren't as numerous as those at the Albany, but each Venetian dish was superbly cooked. Watching Gray as he partly filled her glass with red liquid, Carol asked with an innocent twinkle, 'Am I allowed wine tonight, sir?'

'Tonight you are allowed a little wine,' he reiterated with a tight grin, 'to celebrate.'

They, drank, gazing at the rippling waters beyond the windows.

After dinner Gray rose and taking her coat, dropped it around her shoulders. 'Let's go out,' he said.

The night air was like more wine after the overpowering central heating of the hotel. 'Warm enough?' Gray asked as she buttoned on her coat.

'Wonderful!' she smiled. He turned an arm around her and they walked.

Eventually Gray found what he appeared to have been looking for, a row of gondolas bobbing on the dark waters, waiting to be hired. He chose one decorated in red and gold, with a carved stern and prow and a curtained sedan garlanded with fresh flowers. The gondolier bowed them into the cushioned interior, then he lit candles in the little lanterns and pushed off into the night.

As they lay back listening to the gentle lapping of the water Gray said, 'I've been wanting to do this ever since that other gondola ride, when I couldn't get near you.'

After a while Carol felt Gray draw her close. His lips on hers were all the sweetness she had known they would be. She drank in their warmth which it seemed now she had waited a lifetime for.

A long time afterwards she lay back in the curve of his arm and asked, 'I expect Stephanie will be on her way to Beirut by now?'

Gray nodded, his lips against her ear. 'They caught the four o'clock plane.'

'Are they really going to live in England, all three of them?' she asked unbelievingly.

'Mmm,' Gray affirmed lazily. 'It'll take Scott, Stephanie's father, a while to clear up his affairs in Beirut. She'll miss a few weeks of school, but that won't do her any harm.'

'It will do her the world of good,' Carol said with feeling. She mused for a while, then jerked up. 'Aniello! We forgot to thank him.'

Gray drew her back into his arms. 'I didn't.' He brushed his lips over hers. 'I saw him this afternoon. I've invited him to the wedding.'

'With his wife?' Carol asked, starry-eyed.

'Of course. I'm no fool,' Gray said with a dark gleam. 'He's already had one passionate embrace from you.'

'He's a charming little man,' Carol teased, tugging at a dark curl near Gray's ear. 'But you're the one I love.'

Gray wasted no time in demanding that she prove it.

Later, in their cushioned seats, Carol said dreamily, 'Talking of guests at the wedding, we Lindleys are quite a clan. There's seven of us, without my mother and father.'

Gray trailed his lips through her hair. 'I suppose I'll get to know them all in time,' he drawled absently.

Carol said with an amused light, 'I can just imagine them running wild around the staid and respectable Rowan House.'

'Who cares?' Gray said close to her. 'They'll be company for the Barrett clan when they arrive.'

Carol looked at him with her blue twinkle. 'I thought you didn't like big families?'

'A fellow can change his mind, can't he?' Gray gleamed back.

'I'm going to make some changes too,' she gave him a warning smile. 'When I get to Rowan House I'm going to throw open all the windows and put flowers in every room.'

'It'll be freezing cold when we get back,' Gray said drily against her.

'Well then, I'll put log fires in every room,' Carol said, not to be put off.

'You and a log fire and Rowan House sounds a great idea to me,' Gray said deeply.

Carol lay in his arms feeling a contented glow. It did to her too.

Table of Contents

ACROSS THE LAGOON

CHAPTER ONE

CHAPTER TWO

CHAPTER THREE

CHAPTER FOUR

CHAPTER FIVE

CHAPTER SIX

CHAPTER SEVEN

CHAPTER EIGHT

CHAPTER NINE

CHAPTER TEN

CHAPTER ELEVEN

CHAPTER TWELVE