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frantically. What's happening to me? And what am I doing to myself?
    And could find no answer that made any sense at all.
     
    CHAPTER THREE
     
    If I don't go back to the table soon, thought Chessie, comb¬ing her hair for the umpteenth time, Miles will be sending out a search party.
    Her skin no longer scorched her, but she was still shaking inside, and her hand felt too unsteady to renew her lipstick.
    The cloakroom door opened, and two girls came in, gig¬gling together. Chessie was aware of the curious glances they sent her as they passed by.
    She thought, I cannot go on hiding like this.
    As she walked reluctantly back towards the dining area, she was waylaid by Jim Fewston. 'Evening, Miss Lloyd. Hope you enjoyed your meal.'
    'The food was delicious,' she assured him. But as for enjoyment...
    'And how's that young sister of yours?' He shook his head. 'These days—they grow up before you know it.'
    'Yes,' Chessie said. 'I suppose they do.'
    'Sometimes,' he went on. 'They can be a little too grown¬up for their own good.'
    Suddenly, Chessie was uneasy. Up to then she'd thought Mr. Fewston was just being the jovial landlord. Now, she wasn't so sure.
    He lowered his voice confidentially. 'I hope she wasn't too put out the other night. In a strange pub, she might have got away with it, but I've known her all her life, as you might say, and I know she's not eighteen yet.'
    He paused. 'The local police are down on under-age drinking like a ton of bricks, and I'm not prepared to risk my licence. I don't care for the lad she was with either, so when she started pushing her luck, and asking for vodka and tonic, I had to ask them to leave.'
     
    He sighed. 'I'm sure you understand my position, and no hard feelings either way.'
    'I don't think I understand much at all.' Chessie shook her head. 'Are you saying that Jenny has been in here trying to buy alcohol? I'm sorry, but you must be mistaken.'
    'No mistake, Miss Lloyd.' His voice was kind, but firm. 'Why don't you ask her, my dear? Often a quiet word is all that's needed. I know it can't be easy raising a girl of that age when you're only a slip of a thing yourself, but this is something that wants nipping in the bud. And I'd keep an eye on her boyfriends, too,' he added with a touch of grimness.
    'But Jenny has no boyfriends.' Chessie's protest was be¬wildered. 'She doesn't even go out at night. She's in her room, studying.'
    'Not every night, Miss Lloyd, and other publicans will tell you the same. I suggest you make enquiries.' He gave her a polite nod, and went back into the bar.
     
    She stood for a moment, staring after him dazedly, trying to assimilate what he'd told her. To make some sense of it. Jenny, she thought. Jenny?
    As she made her way back to the table she saw that their waitress had brought the cafetière. But she didn't move away immediately. She was smiling and talking as she re¬arranged the cups and cream jug, bending over the table towards Miles as she did so. Fiddling with the collar of her blouse, Chessie realised, and pushing back her hair.
    My God, she thought incredulously. She's coming on to him. She really is. And he's not exactly brushing her off either. He's leaning back in his chair, amused, but taking the whole thing in his stride.
     
    It brought home to her once again just how little she really knew about the way in which Miles Hunter con¬ducted his private life. In fact the entire evening had
    awoken all kinds of uncertainties she could well have done without.
    She found herself moving forward more quickly, and the girl, noticing her approach, gave one last smile then hurried away.
    As Chessie sank into her seat Miles glanced across at her, his brows snapping together interrogatively. 'What's wrong?'
    'Not a thing.' Chessie summoned a smile of her own. 'I was just thinking how attentive the service is here.' She could hear the waspishness in her voice, and groaned in¬wardly. The last thing she wanted was to sound jealous or proprietorial in