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was like driving all the way to Hell, but after a while her back lost its rigidity and she found, if not complete enjoyment in a relaxation that had, in the past, given her many hours of pure pleasure, at least a measure of confidence.
    â€˜There,’ he said, from his slouched down position, almost as if he had a periscopic view of her mind. ‘Not so very bad, is it?’
    Her breath lumped in her throat and she said testily: ‘I hope you know I have just relived the second worst moment of my life.’
    He wondered what the worst moment was, but said: ‘The accident? Well, I hoped you would have. You have to relive something in order to conquer it. If I’d said, “There, there, forget the nasty hurt,” you might never have found the courage to drive again. Which would have been a pity. You are a competent driver.’
    She was stung to retort: ‘Please keep your compliments.’
    With lazy deliberation he said: ‘In all truth a compliment wasn’t intended. I merely stated a truth. Now, take the first left and pull in at Sharpe’s. It’s a restaurant that serves rather good lunches. And I happen to be starving.’
    But for all that he ordered spartanly for himself, though he gave her a free choice. She couldn’t help but wonder if it wasn’t his way of curtailing a first time after the event, ordeal.
    She relished her pork chop with good appetite, and ordered, to follow, a sweet consisting of meringue, fresh cream and icecream, with just a sprinkling of chopped nuts. Then coffee. Although she had been firmly convinced she wouldn’t be able to swallow a thing.
    He left her drinking her coffee and went to make a telephone call. A business call. Had he neglected his work to drive out to fetch her? And why? Surely, when contacted, all he had to say was, ‘I’m only a passing acquaintance.’ There had been no reason for him to get involved.
    She glanced out of the window. A car was pulling into the forecourt. A yellow car. She mustn’t let the sight of a yellow car upset her. There must be hundreds of yellow cars on the roads, and she would be in a fine state if she jumped whenever she saw one.
    But it was no good. Her mind had already jerked back and she was half way to Hell again. She was driving along the road and there seemed no way of avoiding collision with the yellow car; yet a tiny part of her mind rose above the agony, so that she could wonder what Ian would prescribe. A dozen yellow cars? Five hundred? A million?
    She crammed her fists to her mouth and gradually the hysteria receded, so that she was calmed when the car’s owner entered the dining room.
    She watched his entry with a detached eye. Ian was taking a long time over his phone call, and she was beginning to feel restless. Studying the new arrival was something to do. He was tall, though not as tall as Ian, and stiffer built. He would never order a spartan meal. Fair hair, nose slightly aquiline, blue eyes fringed with excessively long and really dark lashes. Why did Nature favour men in this unfair way? Very fair complexion, with a peppering of fine laughter lines, as if he found life good sport and worth any effort. He sauntered, rather than walked, with a nerveless elegance; always completely at ease, he would prefer feminine to masculine company. This summing up, oddly enough, made him no less male. A very fine specimen, concluded Karen as he drew abreast with her table.
    Instead of passing by, he stopped and greeted: ‘So we meet again. This time in happier circumstances.’
    Her hands gripped the edge of the tablecloth. ‘Are you . . .you . . . the . . . ?’
    â€˜Idiot driving the other car?’ His brow lifted in gentle amusement. ‘Yes, you were semiconscious when I reached you. I’m also a maniac driver, not fit to be let loose on a decent road. Shall I go on?’
    â€˜No.’
    â€˜Pity. The rest has a decidedly salty flavour. But