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'You had every right. I behaved like a pompous ass!' He sighed. 'Poor little Katy. You're so mixed up, aren't you? I don't think you really know what you want, do you?'

She clamped her teeth over her lower lip to stop its trembling. 'I do, Sean—I do really. It's just that—' Before she could complete the sentence his lips closed over hers in a kiss that was slow and gentle and infinitely comforting. She relaxed against him, feeling that she would like to remain like this for ever, wrapped warmly and safely in his arms. But all too soon he was putting her gently from him.

'Katy—' He lifted her chin with one finger to look down into her eyes., 'Have that bath now and dress while I go and talk to Jake and Claire. Join us when you're ready, eh?' He smiled. 'Oh and by the way, I like the new hairstyle now that I've had time to get used to it—even if I do miss the marigold effect!'

Lying in the warm, scented bath Katy felt happier than she had for a long time. If Sean still treated her like a child, at least he seemed to have stopped despising her.

The appointment with Sean's friend, Dr John Marquand, was arranged for the following week. John lived and worked in York and when Sean told him about Toby he suggested that the three of them should meet at the Castle Museum on his day off. In showing Toby round he planned to get to know him in an informal atmosphere, then after lunch they could go back to his surgery for the consultation.

Sean put the idea to Jake and Claire, who agreed and the following Wednesday saw them setting off early in the morning, an excited Toby in the back of the car.

They arrived just after ten o'clock, a little earlier than planned, and to fill in the time until they were to meet John, Sean took them for a brief sightseeing tour round the city. Toby gazed in awe at the Minster with its twin towers, commanding the city like a great grey guardian, and at the city walls, high above their grassed banks, where one could walk and look down at the city and the river, broad and serene and silver. They went for a walk along the quaint cobbled street known as The Shambles and Toby peered, fascinated, into the little shops with their bottle-glass windows.

'Wait till you see inside the museum,' Sean told him. 'In there they've rebuilt the streets of York just as they used to be a hundred years ago—with the shops and everything. Then, down below, you can see the prison cells.'

Toby beamed in delighted anticipation.

Dr John Marquand was a slim, fair-haired man of about forty. He was waiting for them outside the museum entrance, dressed casually in a sports shirt and slacks. Toby took to him at once, especially when he learned that John had a son of about his own age.

'It's a pity he couldn't have come with us today,' he told them. 'But he and his mother have gone away for a holiday.'

The museum was an Alladin's cave to Toby. It had everything from ancient weaponry to Victorian valentines. But, for Toby, the most fascinating of all were the reconstructed streets, correct in every detail from the cobble-stones and gas lighting to the hansom cab and the barrel organ:

Afterwards John took them all to lunch at a place renowned for its ice-cream. Katy reflected that he certainly knew how to win a small boy's heart. John and Sean had already had a long discussion about Toby on the telephone and after the morning together they were almost like old friends.

John had decided that the best approach was a completely honest one. In his surgery the three of them sat down and John asked his receptionist to bring them some tea—orange juice for Toby. While they drank he explained carefully to Toby what he was about to try.

'Now—these nasty wheezy attacks of yours—I'm sure you'd like them to stop, wouldn't you?'

Toby nodded, looking at John over the rim of his glass. 'Arnold helps,' he said. 'I'm always better when I hold him.'

'And who might Arnold be?'

'He's my bear.' Toby looked at Katy. 'Well— Katy's bear really.'

John smiled. 'I see. And have you brought him with you today?'

Katy unzipped her bag and took Arnold out, banding him to Toby.

John looked at her approvingly. 'That's fine.

He's a handsome fellow, isn't he? Well, we need all the help we can get, so I'm going to sit him up there, on top of the cupboard, where you can see each other and I want you to keep an eye on him and watch that he doesn't sneak off.' John took Toby's glass from him gently. 'Now—you and Arnold are going to have a little rest because after all you've done this morning you're both rather tired.'

Toby settled himself trustingly back in the chair and Katy shot a glance towards Sean. He smiled reassuringly at her and under the cover of John's desk she felt his fingers twine round hers comfortingly.

'Just rest, Toby,' John was saying in a smooth restful voice. 'Notice how very heavy your arms and legs feel and how very comfy and warm that chair is. You've never felt so comfy and sleepy, have you, Toby. Watch Arnold. He's sleepy too. If your eyelids feel heavy just let them close. Uncle Sean and Katy and I don't mind at all.' John leaned forward towards him. 'I'm going to begin counting backwards now, Toby, starting at ten. By the time I get to one you'll be a very long way off but you will still be able to hear my voice and talk to me. Can you hear me now?' Toby nodded. He looked completely at ease. There was a smile on his face as though he were enjoying it. John began to count backwards.

'Three—two—one—Can you still hear me, Toby? You are going for a little trip now—back to when you were very small. You are three, Toby. Do you understand? How old are you?'

Toby opened his mouth, 'Three,' he whispered.

Katy bit her lip. It was uncanny, even Toby's voice had changed. He spoke with a baby lisp. Her fingers tightened involuntarily round Sean's. John continued.

'I want you to tell me about yourself, Toby. What are you doing?'

There was a long pause and for a while Katy thought it wasn't going to work, then suddenly Toby spoke.

'Daddy is taking me to the fair!' he said excitedly. 'We're having a ride on the roundabout—now we're playing the game with the little bouncy balls, Daddy says I can have a go—Ooh, I've won!'

'Well done, Toby. Did you get a prize?'

'Yes—
yes
—a shiny little fish in a plastic bag. Daddy says he'll buy me a bowl on the way home for him to live in and I can have him in my room.' Toby lapsed into silence and after a moment John asked him,

'Tell me about home, Toby—tell me about Mummy.'

Toby's eyelids flickered and he began to move restlessly in the chair. 'It's time for my piano lesson again,' he whispered. 'Mummy will be cross because I can't play the scales properly—I've tried but my hands won't reach.' His face began to crumple. 'I can't, Mummy!' he wailed pathetically. 'Please don't smack me again—
please!'
Another pause, then he began to cry loudly. 'No! Don't do that!
No
—No, please don't. I'll be good—I'll practice—'

'What is Mummy doing, Toby?' John probed gently.

'It's my fish—she's pouring him away—into the thing that grinds Up the rubbish. She's killing him! No! No!' Katy heard the familiar sound of wheezing and Toby's chest began to rise and fall rapidly. She half rose from her seat, a protest on her lips, then John said,

'Toby—it's all right. I won't let her do it. Your fish is quite safe now. No one can hurt it, or you either.' His voice was calm and firm. 'You're coming back now and your fish is safe and well. Do you understand?'

Toby's breathing eased, the wheezing faded. He nodded. 'Yes.'

'Rest quietly for a moment then. In a moment I shall start counting from one to ten and as I reach ten you will be eight years old again. You will be wide awake, feeling fit and well, and you won't remember anything at all about what just happened.' John allowed the boy to rest until his breathing was quiet and normal again, then he began counting—eight—nine—ten.'

Toby's eyes opened and he looked round at them. 'Have I been asleep?'

John laughed. 'I'll say you have—snoring like an old grampus too! Here, have another biscuit.' Toby took one and began to munch. 'I've just thought,' John continued. 'Next time you come and see me we'll have to go to the Railway Museum, there wasn't time today. And I bet you'd like to see my son David's train set. He keeps it here at the surgery, upstairs where we have a big attic. I'll get Janet to take you up.' He rang the bell for his receptionist. 'Your Uncle Sean, Katy and I will come up and join you in a minute.'

Toby trotted off happily and John turned to them with a smile. 'Well, I think that was pretty conclusive, don't you?' He smiled at Katy. 'Perceptive of you to spot the fish aversion. I'd say that getting a new stepmother—and one who could play the piano too—triggered off his asthma again. But as he liked her so much it wasn't exactly her
personally
who caused the attacks. What happened was that she awakened earlier traumas—ones his infant mind had blocked out—the fish episode being the most disturbing.'

'Will he be cured now?' Katy asked huskily, a lump in her throat.

John shook his head. 'It will take a few more sessions and of course he may still be prone to asthma attacks for other reasons. But, if his parents are willing, I can help there by teaching him to control the symptoms.'

'I'm sure they will agree.' Sean rose to shake hands with his friend. 'I can't tell you how grateful I am to you for giving up your one free day for us. And you've given me some fascinating material for my paper—providing of course that I have your permission to quote you?'

John nodded. 'I'm only too glad for you to do so. We're fighting a battle all the time to convince people that hypnosis is a science and not some kind of black magic.' His face broke into a mischievous smile. 'Well—shall we go upstairs now and join our young patient in a game with the train set?' He led the way, opening the door for them. 'You know I must admit to a weakness for the thing myself,' he confided. 'It wasn't altogether an accident that it came to be housed here at the surgery!'

From
Toby's first session with John Marquand he began to improve dramatically. His attacks were mild and the intervals between them grew longer and longer. Sean was fascinated by the treatment and, apart from the days on which they took Toby to York for his treatment, Katy hardly saw him at all. Every moment of his time seemed to be spent in collating his notes and working on his paper for the medical journal.

At Bridge House the talk was all of the coming tour of the United States. Jake was to be the guest of Dave Maskell who had urged him to bring Claire and Toby along too, and now that Toby's health had improved this began to be a distinct possibility. Katy developed the feeling that she was not earning her salary—although Toby obviously enjoyed her company, there was very little to do for him.

On their final visit to John Marquand the cure of Toby's fish aversion was proved conclusively. When they arrived John opened the door to them himself.

'Come into the surgery, Toby,' he invited. T have a surprise present for you.'

Toby ran in ahead of them and there on the desk stood a bowl containing two large goldfish.

'David has some and I thought you might like them,' John explained. 'They're very easy to look after and they don't have to be taken for walks!'

Katy glanced at Sean and held her breath. Toby stared at the fish, mesmerised, just as he had been that day at the dentist's, then he turned to John, his face wreathed in smiles.

'Gosh, they're super—thanks! I know just what I'm going to call them—Adam and Eve.'

John opened a drawer and took out a packet of fish food. 'Here, feed them, then they'll really be yours.'

Toby happily sprinkled the food into the bowl. Still there was no sign of any wheezing and the three adults exchanged smiles.

'I did have a fish once before—a long time ago,' Toby said, frowning slightly. 'But it died. These two won't die because I shall take special care of them.'

On the way home Sean was forced to drive carefully while Toby sat in the back, his bowl of fish carefully cradled in a large cardboard box, packed with crumpled newspapers.

'I think my job here is over,' Katy said quietly, glancing at Sean's profile.

He looked at her sharply. 'What makes you say that?'

'I
t's obvious. Toby doesn't really need me any longer and neither do you. You have all the material you need for your work. You must have almost finished it by now anyway.'

He was silent for a moment, then he said, 'What will you do?'

She swallowed hard. 'I don't really know.'

'Have you thought about going .back to St Anne's?' He looked at her. 'I'm sure they'd be happy to have you.'

She chewed her lip. 'It's rather a matter of Hobson's Choice, isn't it? Dad and Isobel won't want me and I suppose I'm too old to begin training for anything else.'

He grinned. 'Hardly, although your three years of training would be a sad waste—not to mention your undoubted skill. Anyway, I don't think you're being honest with yourself. Can you see yourself as anything other than a nurse?'

She shook her head. 'I suppose you're right.' Inwardly she was thinking that at St Anne's she would at least see Sean from time to time, even though it might only be from a distance. But the next moment even this hope was shattered.

'By the way, I've applied for a consultancy up here in Wensleydale,' he told her casually.

Her heart sank. 'Oh—when do you begin?' she asked.

'It isn't that definite—though I am on the shortlist.'

Katy stared out at the moorland scenery. Once more everything seemed to be coming to an end. These weeks at Bridge House had flown. She knew she could stay longer but she felt she really should leave. It wasn't fair to the Underwoods to hold them to the original agreement. Resides, the longer she stayed, the more painful the parting would be, when it came.

'I'll write to Mrs Bellamy tonight,' she said, referring to the St Anne's Senior Nursing Officer. 'I'll have to ask if there's a room for me at the nurses' hostel too, until I can find another flat.'