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Irene persisted, the words coming swiftly, 'That's what I'm asking you.' She added with childlike candour, 'You had a funny look on your face when you spoke to her and listened to Adam doing so.'

Emma gasped, 'Well,
really. .
. your imagination is running riot.'

Irene changed like a chameleon, crying, 'My imagination can't help running riot. . .why accuse me of that? I live with my imagination, seeing all the horrors, feeling all strange and depressed and I sense things. . . You don't know what it's like.' Her voice had risen.

Emma was torn and instantly contrite. She was arguing with Irene as though her reactions were those of a normal person and that was fatal, for she could not stand any form of disagreement or attack.

Irene's expression was suddenly curious, 'Why did Adam ring?' It was a suspicious interrogation.

Emma felt a sense of relief.

'To apologise for his hurried departure, and to say that he had intended seeing you again before he left.'

Irene persisted, 'That was no reason why your voice should have been so edgy. It was good of him to spare the time.' Her brows puckered, 'And what had you made quite clear?'

Emma felt a certain desperation. There had never been occasion for this type of conversation with Irene before, and it emphasised the difficulties that could build up in their relationship.

She shook her head. 'I can't repeat every word, or account for it,' she answered lightly.

'He was obviously going out! You at least wished him a good evening, but you hadn't the right note in your voice.' It was a persistent challenge.

Emma dared, 'Suppose we see if there's anything on television and forget Adam.'

'I don't feel like television. My head aches.' A sigh accompanied the statement. 'It hasn't been a good day.' There was a sad wistful note in the utterance.

Emma's nerves were raw. She thought of the agency and the job she had refused. She thought, too, of all Adam had said to her and of the curious intimacy that had momentarily insinuated itself between them. Irene's words rushed back: 'Is it because he attracts you and you don't want to admit it?' Even the possibility seemed ludicrous. She had never met a man who antagonised her in the way that Adam succeeded in doing. He had been so right in his assessment, and his voice echoed insistently in her ears as he'd exclaimed, 'If I were to say black, you'd say white.' It was a perfect summing-up.

In turn, Irene's thoughts were chaotic at that moment. On the one hand she wanted Emma and Adam to be friendly, but on the other she was antagonistic towards any suggestion that they might ever be more than friends. Emma was almost like a valued possession that she wanted to keep to herself always and never to share.

It was a fortnight later that Emma got Marion Foster to keep Irene company while she went shopping for a blouse and some essential supplies. Marion Foster was a friend, widowed at forty, who lived alone in College Crescent and, being financially provided for, spent her time helping those who needed it, the 'send for Marion' or 'ask Marion' being her reference. She had deeply loved her husband who had died of cancer and, while not averse to the idea of remarrying, had hot met anyone during the five years of her widowhood who had interested her in the prospect. She liked young people and Emma had met her due to illness, nursing her through a particularly bad pleurisy. They had struck up a friendship which came to include the Sinclair family and she had felt the death of Alec and Alice Sinclair deeply. She understood Irene and was careful never to intrude, or outstay her welcome, while always ready to 'babysit', happy in the thought that Emma thus had a few hours of freedom. It had not escaped her notice that the requests to keep Irene company had lessened recently and she could not allay the instinctive feeling that Irene subconsciously resented her 'pop in' visits, although they had always been discreet, the telephone having provided a substitute.

Emma was aware of all this as she greeted her that particular morning.

'It's been far too long since we saw you,' she said warmly, thinking that Marion was one of those ageless women who always looked just right. She was attractive, with dark straight hair and large blue eyes which smiled infectiously. Her smooth skin always appeared to be slightly tanned and she exuded good health in her slim supple body.

Marion smiled as she said, 'I'm glad to be here.' She thought that Emma had lost weight and had a troubled look, and she did not underestimate the exacting task she was called upon to shoulder when it came to Irene, whom she felt instinctively to be going through one of her more difficult phases.

This fact was made evident as Irene came to greet her with, 'I thought you'd deserted us. I hope you haven't been put out by today.'

'That's the last thing,' Marion murmured, thinking of the occasions when she had stayed in the house for various weeks while Emma had taken on agency cases. But that pattern had been broken recently and she wondered if Irene's condition had deteriorated. Her attitude at the moment had an inexplicable challenge about it, almost as though she secretly resented her, Marion's, presence.

There was an awkward pause, and for the first time Emma felt uncomfortable, wanting to explain how difficult the past weeks had been and apologise for Irene's subtle change of manner. Marion, thus far, had always been accepted as part of the family, her support greatly valued.

Irene announced disjointedly and with a touch of defiance, 'Dr Templar is looking after me now. . .I like him.'

Marion said with spontaneous enthusiasm, 'He's very popular. And so is Dr Meyhew. I saw them at the theatre a week or two ago.'

Emma's thoughts raced back to the evening when Adam had said he was going to the theatre. For a reason she couldn't define, or justify, she was irritated by the fact that he had not said, 'Dr Meyhew and I are going to the theatre.' Yet why should he tell her? His private life was none of her business, but obviously he and Dr Meyhew had a close association. That being so, why should he make an issue out of taking her, Emma, out to dinner? Or was he, in fact, the gay Lothario who made love to any woman who would encourage him? Colour mounted her cheeks. Dinner and the theatre were innocent enough pastimes and why should he live like a hermit? He was a bachelor and therefore free to associate with whom he chose.

Irene said darkly, wanting to emphasise the fact for Emma's benefit, 'I think he's very keen on Dr Meyhew. As I've told Emma, he always speaks as though he doesn't know what he would do without her.' Irene had deliberately distorted Adam's words, 'what the
practice
would do without her.'

Marion was aware that Irene seemed purposely to be making a point.

'Doctors,' she said lightly, 'make good subjects for conjecture.'

Emma asked involuntarily, annoyed with herself the moment the words were uttered, 'Have you met Dr Meyhew?'

'Once,' Marion said briefly. 'At a party given by a friend. . . We've so much news to catch up on,' she added unguardedly and, she knew, indiscreetly.

'My life has no
news
,' Irene said wanly. 'Nothing's happened since we last saw you—only Adam.' She added, 'We call him Adam and he often comes here. I don't like some of the things he says, but I like
him,'
she repeated. 'Emma likes him, too,' she rushed on and gave a little laugh, 'but she wouldn't admit it.'

Marion was not unaware of the innuendo, but said easily, 'I think everyone likes him. . . Now, is there anything special I can do today?'

'Emma
isn't going out for the whole
day
,' Irene
insisted.
'Ethel's husband is ill,' she explained, almost as
though
she would
prefer
the much-valued daily helper to keep her company, 'or she would have '

She
stopped, embarrassed. Marion had been so good, so supportive, since the tragedy and given up much of her time until recently, that Irene seemed to be spurning
her
now, knowing that, deep down, she was afraid Marion would be instrumental in Emma's going back to spasmodic work, the thought of which was anathema to her.

Marion was very intuitive and understanding, and the implication of Irene's words was not lost on her.
She
rightly gauged the situation and Irene's reactions to it.

'Emma,' she said easily, 'can be as long as she likes. I'm
free
all day.'

Emma experienced a heavy, sick sensation in her stomach and a feeling of acute loneliness overwhelmed her, the realisation that recently she had become isolated from former friends who, while they telephoned sympathetically, had stopped visiting because Irene shrank from their presence and made them aware that there was no longer room for them in her world. Emma resented facing this fact, particularly as it gave weight to all that Adam had emphasised about the situation and proved the truth of his words. She knew also that while absence in no way endangered the bonds of friendship, this enforced schism withered it, leaving it with nothing on which to thrive because it was, in effect, discarded. But she said deliberately, risking repercussions, 'Then I might look in on Emily. It's months——'

Irene let out a little whimper, 'Emily talks about things that ' She stopped, arrested by Emma's firm expression. Emily was a nurse, and a special friend of Emma's.

'You will not be there to hear her,' Emma said quietly. 'She hasn't visited us for months.'

Tears gushed to Irene's eyes.

'I wish people didn't make me feel so—so
dreadful,
bringing back the memories of when we were all together. . . Anyway,' she added sharply, 'she's so often away on cases.'

Marion put in, wishing to avoid any emotional build-up, 'If you see her, give her my love.' Marion had always been in the Sinclair circle and felt deeply about Emma and Irene, seeing the whole picture in perspective and realising how untenable was Emma's position in particular. It struck her that Irene had deteriorated and was in a highly nervous state where compromise would be impossible. And she was not oblivious of the atmosphere that Dr Templar's name had created, or Emma's defensive attitude. She asked herself if an attractive man like Dr Templar could not prove to be a disruptive influence in the circumstances, rather than a soothing doctor. . .

Having parked the car, Emma went straight to Caley's in the High Street where, to her amazement, she saw Adam and a slim attractive woman standing in the entrance. A strange sensation passed over her. Surprise, conjecture and the immediate assessment that the two of them were very friendly. Obviously, she told herself, Adam must know a considerable number of women, but this one in particular, smiling broadly and looking very smart, conveyed a note of intimacy that negatived the ordinary patient.

Her first, and somewhat absurd, instinct was to hurry away unseen, not wanting any interruptions, but even as she prepared to slip away, Adam cried, 'Emma!' He gave her name importance and her will-power weakened. She wondered what he was doing in that shopping area instead of being at work. She noticed that even as he spoke he put his hand on the elbow of the woman beside him in a little intimate gesture, and she felt a curious sense of resistance.

'This is my sister, Ruth,' he said, sounding pleased, even proud.

Emma looked into smiling, friendly grey eyes and realised the likeness. She could be two or three years older than he, but she shared -his strong, vibrant personality.

Emma felt a warmth steal over her and her greeting was enthusiastic. She knew that for one split-second a female figure beside Adam had suggested Dr Meyhew, distance defying recognition. She had not thought of his sister, and a faint tingle of emotion went over her which she was at a loss to comprehend.

'I'm so happy to meet you,' Ruth said as she extended her hand, refraining from adding, 'I've heard so much about you', since she felt the statement to be inappropriate. There was a touch of elusiveness about Emma as she stood there, despite the friendliness, and Ruth, ever observant, noticed a certain challenge in the way she looked at, and spoke to, Adam.

The formalities over, Emma allowed herself to say to Adam, 'I'm sure you don't often go shopping in the morning.'

'Is that a neat way of telling me I'm playing truant?' He held her gaze and, as ever, disturbed her.

'Only you would be able to assess that,' Emma quipped.

Ruth laughed. It was a lilting sound and Emma thought how attractive she looked in cream trousers and a tailored cornflower blue blouse.

'We're aiming to get a wedding present,' she volunteered, 'and are going to the Token House. I've just done a little shopping in here.' She indicated Caley's.

The Token House sold high quality glass and china and was much patronised by visitors to the town, particularly from overseas.

Adam held Emma's gaze, noticing her summery primrose and white dress which hinted at her perfect figure.

'I'm glad to see you out,' he said deliberately. 'How about joining us for lunch? We could go to the Castle Hotel. This is my day off.'

Ruth said instantly, 'That would be fine.' She looked at Emma in anticipation.

But Emma resisted the idea. For some unknown reason she didn't want to have lunch with Adam and his sister. She answered, 'Thank you all the same, but I've quite a bit to do.'

Adam looked immediately accusing. His voice was crisp as he said, 'I'm sure Irene is not alone.'

She cut back acidly, 'Our friend Marion Foster is with her.'

'Very well, then,' he said authoritatively.

Ruth stared at him, surprised by his tone.

'I am going to see a friend,' Emma said with finality. She met his gaze and tension mounted. 'Thank you all the same.'

'You must come to us,' Ruth said swiftly. 'We can fix it to suit your plans.' There was a welcome in her voice. She laughed. 'When doctors have a little free time they expect everyone else to be free also!'

'That,' said Adam, but he looked at Emma, 'was not what I meant.' He added, and there was a sudden
quietness that was compelling in his voice, 'I had intended looking in on you this afternoon.'