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beans.’
    He glanced at Amabel. ‘Your mother tells me you’re pretty handy around the house and garden. The two of us ought to be able to manage to get something started— I’ll hire a man with a rotavator who’ll do the rough digging; the lighter jobs you’ll be able to manage.’
    Amabel didn’t say anything. For one thing she was too surprised and shocked; for another, it was early days to be making such sweeping plans. And what about her mother’s suggestion that she might like to train for something? If her stepfather might be certain of his plans, but why washe so sure that she would agree to them? And she didn’t agree with them. The orchard had always been there, long before she was born. It still produced a good crop of apples and in the spring it was so beautiful with the blossom…
    She glanced at her mother, who looked happy and content and was nodding admiringly at her new husband.
    It was later, as she was getting the supper that he came into the kitchen.
    â€˜Have to get rid of that cat,’ he told her briskly. ‘Can’t abide them, and the dog’s getting on a bit, isn’t he? Animals don’t go well with market gardens. Not to my reckoning, anyway.’
    â€˜Oscar is no trouble at all,’ said Amabel, and tried hard to sound friendly. ‘And Cyril is a good guard dog; he never lets anyone near the house.’
    She had spoken quietly, but he looked at her face and said quickly, ‘Oh, well, no hurry about them. It’ll take a month or two to get things going how I want them.’
    He in his turn essayed friendliness. ‘We’ll make a success of it, too. Your mother can manage the house and you can work full-time in the garden. We might even take on casual labour after a bit—give you time to spend with your young friends.’
    He sounded as though he was conferring a favour upon her, and her dislike deepened, but she mustn’t allow it to show. He was a man who liked his own way and intended to have it. Probably he was a good husband to her mother, but he wasn’t going to be a good stepfather…
    Nothing much happened for a few days; there was a good deal of unpacking to do, letters to write and trips to the bank. Quite a substantial sum of money had been transferred from Canada and Mr Graham lost no time in making enquiries about local labour. He also went up to Londonto meet men who had been recommended as likely to give him financial backing, should he require it.
    In the meantime Amabel helped her mother around the house, and tried to discover if her mother had meant her to have training of some sort and then changed her mind at her husband’s insistence.
    Mrs Graham was a loving parent, but easily dominated by anyone with a stronger will than her own. What was the hurry? she wanted to know. A few more months at home were neither here nor there, and she would be such a help to Keith.
    â€˜He’s such a marvellous man, Amabel, he’s bound to make a success of whatever he does.’
    Amabel said cautiously, ‘It’s a pity he doesn’t like Cyril and Oscar…’
    Her mother laughed. ‘Oh, darling, he would never be unkind to them.’
    Perhaps not unkind, but as the weeks slipped by it was apparent that they were no longer to be regarded as pets around the house. Cyril spent a good deal of time outside, roaming the orchard, puzzled as to why the kitchen door was so often shut. As for Oscar, he only came in for his meals, looking carefully around to make sure that there was no one about.
    Amabel did what she could, but her days were full, and it was obvious that Mr Graham was a man who rode roughshod over anyone who stood in his way. For the sake of her mother’s happiness Amabel held her tongue; there was no denying that he was devoted to her mother, and she to him, but there was equally no denying that he found Amabel, Cyril and Oscar superfluous to his life.
    It