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when she thought, too, of her father. He had been older than Alison by fifteen years, and she remembered her mother ’ s anxiety after they had paid a visit to a heart specialist in Edinburgh just a few months before he died.
    David Lyall had been poor at following his doctor ’ s advice, and he had continued to lead a rich, full life. A few days before he died, he had hurried off to London on business, and had called in to see the Sheridans on his way back home. Catherine had taken a telephone call from Newcastle, and her father had sounded well and strong, and full of his usual enthusiasm for life. But the excitement of that trip must have cost him his life, because the following morning he had fallen as soon as he got out of bed, and Alison had shouted for Catherine to ring the doctor.
    It was too late. David Lyall died suddenly, and after Alison ’ s grief had subsided, she was glad it happened that way.
    ‘ He hated the thought of being an invalid ,’ she told Catherine. ‘ It ’ s better this way ... for him. ’
    Now there was only Catherine, and a large box full of old papers, boxes of old-fashioned trinkets which had belonged to both grandmothers, then her mother, old precious books and small pieces of silver which Catherine wanted to keep. Some furniture had stayed in the flat, and some had gone into store against the day when she might once again have her own home. Somehow that day seemed very far away. It was a day she might dream about, though the dream was too cloudy to seem anything like reality.
    In the meantime, she could only be grateful for the home which had been given to her.
    It was a few days before Catherine managed to exchange more than half a dozen words with Michael Rodgers. After the first warm handshake, he had treated her very formally in the shop, though she recognised that he seemed to be kept busy with his part of the business.
    New ranges of watches and clocks had been ordered, and he rearranged the window display to show off the best designs to greatest advantage. He and Elizabeth seemed to work well together, though occasionally there would be a difference of opinion, when Elizabeth ’ s eyes would flash and her chin lift a little. It seemed to be only in this particular field that she stood up to Michael. She knew her job, and although Catherine knew too little about the business to judge, she often felt that Elizabeth was in the right. It was then that Michael would often be the peacemaker.
    ‘ All right, all right, darling, don ’ t get het up. We ’ ll have it your way. ’
    Then Elizabeth would bite her lip.
    ‘ I know I ’ m right, Michael. ’
    ‘ All right. I ’ ve agreed you ’ re right. ’
    On Saturday Mrs. Sheridan asked Elizabeth if Michael would be coming home with them that evening for dinner.
    ‘I ... I think so, ’ she said, a trifle doubtfully.
    ‘ Won ’ t you be going out together, darling? ’
    ‘ Michael didn ’ t mention his plans. I ’ ll see what he wants to do. ’
    ‘ What about you, John, and Catherine? ’
    ‘ I rather think Catherine will be too tired to do more than crawl home, ’ said John, with one of his teasing smiles in Catherine ’ s direction. ‘ Or do you want to dance all night, Kate? ’
    ‘ No, thanks, ’ she laughed. ‘ If Saturdays are as busy as you say, then I shan ’ t want to go anywhere. ’
    ‘ Then we ’ ll come straight home, if we may, Mother. I ’ ll take Catherine out for a drive this Sunday. She ’ s more acclimatised now, and an outing to Housesteads would do her good. She can see something of the Roman Wall. ’
    ‘ Oh, but...’
    ‘ All you ’ ll have to do is sit in the car, and you must have a break of sorts. You ’ ll soon get your sea legs. ’
    ‘ Then thank you, John, ’ she accepted gratefully. ‘ It ’ s nice of you to bother about me. ’
    ‘ It ’ s a pleasure, ’ said John, and she saw that this time his eyes were serious, and he said it as though he meant it. He was really a