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tell you she's going to spend the Christmas holidays in Antigua with me?'
    'No, she didn't. Oh, my dear, how exciting! It will do you the world of good, the best part of a month in the sun. You'll need some new dresses . . . sundresses. They won't be easy to find at this time of year.

    You must let me run up a couple for you. It doesn't take more than an evening, that sort of dress.'
    She chattered on, full of enthusiasm, while Christie sat, saying little, unable to feel any excitement at the thought of four weeks in Antigua because, at the end, she would have to come back on her own.
    After Margaret had said goodnight and returned to her own flat, Christie asked Ash, 'What time does your flight leave tomorrow?'
    'A little after ten, from Heathrow. I need to leave here about eight-thirty.'
    'Is that early enough? I thought one had to check in about an hour beforehand?'
    'So they say, but I never do. Flights are sometimes on time, sometimes late. I don't care for hanging about in airports, so I cut it as fine as I can. I've never missed a flight yet.'
    She could imagine him strolling unhurriedly into the terminal, knowing exactly where to go and what to do.
    He said, 'Although it's basically the same, this flat is much nicer than Margaret's. Are you responsible for the way it's decorated?'
    'Yes, I couldn't stand the existing decor, so I re-did it. The furniture is from my mother's family home. As possibly you know, it's mostly Regency. I'm lucky to have inherited it. Jenny and Paul didn't care for antiques, so Father left it all to me.'
    'Those are your parents, I presume?' He indicated a photograph of her father as a young subaltern with her mother in a white wedding dress in the style of the early 1950s.
    'Yes, and that's my sister on the bookcase. We weren't much alike.'

    'But no photograph of your husband, either here or in your bedroom?'
    She stiffened. 'No. I—I have some snaps, but no studio portrait,' she answered, in an expressionless voice.
    How like him to point out something which most people—anyone with an ounce of tact!—would not have mentioned.
    'I think, if you don't mind, I'll go to bed,' she said, rising.
    'By all means.' He stood up.
    Christie couldn't find fault with his manners.
    'Thank you for cooking that delicious dinner,' she said, with formal politeness, 'Goodnight.'
    'Goodnight, Christiana.'
    She had a feeling his eyes were amused as he watched her walk out of the room.

    She did not oversleep a second time, and it was she who cooked breakfast for him next morning.
    'Are the things which you'll need for this trip— suitcases, summer clothes and so on—going to strain your budget?' he asked her. 'If so I'll be pleased to contribute to your expenses in bringing John out to me.'
    'Thank you, but that won't be necessary. I already have several cases.'

    'As far as clothes are concerned, one light dress should be enough.
    You can buy the rest in Antigua where cotton dresses are worn all the year round.'
    When the time came to say goodbye, he swung John up in his arms and held the child perched on one forearm.
    'Goodbye, John. See you soon. Take good care of Aunt Christie till I see you again, won't you?'
    He kissed the boy's cheek, and John hugged him, plump arms round his uncle's strong neck. Then Ash lowered the boy to the floor and turned to take his leave of her.
    'See you at the end of next week. I'll be waiting to meet you at the airport. Goodbye, Christiana.'
    She forced a smile, but her silver-grey eyes were nervous. She had an uneasy feeling that, merely to tease, he might bend down and kiss her as well. But he only shook hands.
    The days which followed his visit were busy ones. Margaret ran up one dress for Christie; she herself made another.
    She completed her Christmas shopping, buying the little things to put in John's stocking, and two larger presents for him. At Margaret's suggestion she bought a gift to give to Ash. It would be merely a gesture. She could feel no liking for the