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him, Susan thought, with a small, wilful daughter to care for and only a housekeeper to share his responsibility in that direction, at least.
    After Fergus had gone she drove down to the mill, and the first batch of orders she lifted were from Elliott’s of Fetterburn.
    She gazed at the familiar heading on the business writing-paper for several minutes before she dealt with them, thinking about the friendly link between the two firms which any hostility on her part might so easily break. Fetterburn tweed and Denham knitwear had gone hand-in-hand for several years now to produce matching dyes for their yarns in order that their finished products would complement each other, but she searched through her colour charts for the particular blue she had seen that afternoon without result. She had been almost prepared for failure, because colour was her speciality and she had an excellent eye for it. The muted blues and blue-greys and near turquoise of last season had a washed-out look in comparison with that clear, bright, singing blue Maxwell Elliott’s companion had carried so naturally, and she remembered it as clearly as she remembered the girl who had worn it.
    When the factory closed at five o’clock she stayed behind for a couple of hours to catch up with her work, but it was difficult to concentrate on samples and new designs in her present restless state of mind. It was almost impossible to divorce her thoughts from her coming meeting with her stepmother, and even on her way to Edinburgh the following morning she found herself thinking about Evelyn to the exclusion of everything else.
    Whatever Evelyn decided to do would surely settle their future. She had mentioned selling out ‘at the right moment', and that moment, for Evelyn, might be now.
    Whatever her ‘great surprise’ turned out to be, the fate of Denham’s could scarcely be connected with it, unless she intended to marry again. In which case, Evelyn might want to sell immediately, severing her connection with her old life up here on the Border for a new beginning in the south.
    The idea was curiously repugnant to Susan at first until she told herself that her stepmother had every right to a second chance of happiness if she could find it, and if she had found it sooner rather than later nobody could really condemn her.
    Princes Street seemed busier than usual as she negotiated its magnificent length on her way to the airport. She could have taken the circular route round the city, but the heart of Edinburgh held a great fascination for her and she had given herself plenty of time. It was colder here, at the edge of the North Sea, than it had been when she left Yairborough, and she had no intention of spending longer than was necessary at Turnhouse.
    When she got there the London plane was coming in and she hurried through the reception lounge to greet her stepmother.
    Characteristically, Evelyn was not alone when she walked in. A tall, good-looking elderly man walked by her side carrying the numerous bits and pieces without which she found herself unable to travel more than a hundred yards, and they were laughing and talking together as if they were old friends.
    Her stepmother saw her immediately, but Susan felt as if she had been frozen to the spot. Evelyn’s ‘great surprise’ was obvious, even though the tweed coat she wore swung, tent-like, from her slim shoulders. She was pregnant. Six months pregnant, by anybody’s guess!
    Susan continued to gaze at her without believing until the elderly man had unburdened himself of all her belongings, raised his elegant bowler hat, and strode away.
    “Isn’t it wonderful?” Evelyn said. “My ‘great surprise’?”
    Susan bent to kiss her on the cheek.
    “Evelyn!” she exclaimed. “You’re a dreadful old fraud, keeping this to yourself for so long!”
    “Not so old!” her stepmother countered, returning her kiss. “Just thirty next birthday, and that won’t seem so ancient to you either, in a year