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about that? Christabel Herri ck back at Lark Manor. Why on earth do you suppose she came back? After all these years?'
    'Perhaps she repented her wicked ways. Alternatively perhaps she missed the very comfortable gilded cage.' Jemima spoke lightly. As far as she was concerned, the events whic h had overtaken Christabel Cart wright, or had been provoked by her, lay in the past.
    While Jemima admitted to a healthy curiosity on the subject of Christabel's reappearance and the strange combination of graciousness and tensity which the atmosphere at Lark Manor presented, her main concern was with Megalith's seventy-five minute programme on the Lanninster Festival. Jemima could see in Christabel's dramatic return a possible obstacle to the successful execution of her endeavour. Already Gregory Rowan, one of the most prominent local residents and one who should certainly feature in the programme, had issued his appeal for cancellation. Now if everyone at Larminster was going to spend the summer discussing the concerns of Christabel Cartwright, it might be very difficult to film the Festival in a relaxed and spontaneous manner.
    Nat Fitzwilliam's next remark made her heart sink.
    'Do you suppose, since she is back, I could persuade her to take part in the Festival? Smashing television for you, of course, and smashing publicity for us. Absolutely transform the programme.' He paused. 'Wowee,' he exclaimed. 'I think The Sunday Times might take a piece from me now . .. they've turned me down once . .. now that I've got Christabel Herrick, the return of Christabel Herrick, to offer . . .'
    As Nat Fitzwilliam expatiated on these daydreams, Jemima took another look at his cherub's face, its look of candour and sweetness enhanced by the broad brow and wide-set trusting eyes. She realized with some alarm that the cherub's exterior only partially hid the ruthless and empire-building ambitions. Did he cultivate the look of youth to trap the unwary? But Nat had already passed on to the subject of the visit of the touring company, named after its famous theatre of origin, the King Charles at Bridesbury.
    'The Seagull and that hoary old favourite of Gregory's about Marie Antoinette in prison, showing how she came over all noble at the end,' he was muttering. 'Repertory companies always trot it out if they've got a talented leading actress. Two wonderful parts for her, anyway. I believe I could get Anna Maria to step down, she owes me a favour, or if she won't, the bitch, there's always blackmail, isn't there? Then I'll tell Boy Greville that he can't direct the second episode in my series unless he steps down—'
    The cherub's eves were gleaming.
    'Look here,' Jemima interrupted strongly, wrenching his attention away from the King Charles Company to his present situation. 'My dear boy, this is all moonshine. What on earth makes you think that Christabel
    Herrick wants to return to the stage? Isn't it rather the point that she's returned to her family and abandoned the stage? And I should add that Megalith Television is concentrating on Larminster as its typical homespun English festival, not as a major piece de scandale.' Jemima made her words as cold as possible, hoping to punctuate Nat Fitzwilliam's wishful thinking.
    'Oh right, right, absolutely. Sorry I got carried away. You're absolutely right. Look, here we are. Park on the left. Then you get a good view of the sea and the Watchtower, right in line. As it was meant to be seen.'
    Jemima gazed dutifully up at the extremely modern pentagonal building, constructed of blackish stone and darkened glass which loomed above them. Her appreciation was just turning to admiration - at first sight it was one of the most successful modern buildings she had seen - when she received an unpleasant inkling that Nat Fitzwilliam was one of those people who never wasted time in argument, merely proceeded with their plans underground when checked.
    'To think, she's never even been here!' he was exclaiming fervently