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I'll return him to you on Sunday
    evening.'
    'Very well,' she agreed dully. It was the beginning of the end, she
    knew. He wouldn't snatch Nicky away as she'd first thought, but
    detach the child from her by degrees. And there wasn't a thing she
    could do about it.
    He said, 'Until tomorrow, then.' He put out a hand and ruffled Nicky's
    curls, then ran a finger down his cheek. For a shocked moment,
    Harriet wondered if he was going to try the same caress on her,
    because she wasn't at all confident that her reaction would have the
    necessary cool, but he made no attempt to touch her again.
    He said, ' Herete,' and walked out of the room, closing the door behind
    him.
    Harriet stood holding Nicky, her arms tightening round him until he
    wriggled in protest, demanding to be set down and given his tea.
    Toast, he wanted, and Marmite and 'ronge'.
    'Yes, darling,' she promised penitently, because usually he'd been fed
    by now at Manda's. But she didn't put him down at once. She carried
    him over to the window and pulled back the shrouding net curtain,
    looking into the street below.
    Alex Marcos was just about to get into the car. As she watched, he
    turned and looked up at the window, lifting a hand in mocking
    acknowledgment of her presence. Furious with herself, Harriet let the
    curtain fall hurriedly into place, and moved away, wishing that she'd
    been strong-minded enough to ignore his departure—and wondering
    why she had failed.. ..

    Friday was a miserable day. Harriet had phoned the personnel officer
    at work first thing and received a sympathetic response when she
    gave family troubles as the reason for her hasty departure the
    previous day, and for her continued absence. Then she phoned Manda
    and told her what had happened, or at least an edited version.
    She still found it hard to believe that she had behaved as she did. She
    had let a man who was almost a stranger, and certainly her enemy,
    kiss her and arouse feelings within her which had kept her awake and
    restless most of the night. The warm, airless atmosphere of the room
    hadn't helped either, and more than once Harriet had found herself
    wishing wryly for the cliche comfort of a cold shower. But it was only
    people with money and private bathrooms who could afford such
    luxuries, she thought regretfully. The bathroom she shared had
    nothing so sophisticated as a shower in any temperature, and the
    old-fashioned plumbing made such an infernal din that except in
    cases of emergency the residents tried to use it as little as possible at
    night.
    Manda heard her explanation of why Nicky would not be spending
    the day with her without much comment. When Harriet had finished
    she merely asked, 'And what's he like—Alex Marcos?'
    Even in her own ears, Harriet's laugh sounded artificial and she hoped
    fervently that Manda would assume it was some distortion on the
    line. 'Oh—just as you'd imagine, I suppose. The answer to the
    maiden's prayer.'
    'Depending, of course,' Manda said gravely, 'on what the maiden
    happened to be praying for. See you, love. Take care now.'
    As she replaced the receiver, Harriet pondered on the real note of
    warning in Manda's voice, and reflected rather despondently that it
    was no use trying to fool her, even at a distance.
    She tidied and cleaned the flat again almost compulsively, then
    tucked Nicky into the buggy and took him to the nearby shops which
    he loved. The sun was shining, and the Italian greengrocer gave him
    an orange, and Harriet, in a moment of weakness, bought him some
    sweets. While she was in the newsagents' she treated herself to a daily
    paper, and some magazines, because she had a whole weekend to fill
    for once.
    Of course she didn't have to stay in the flat, she told herself robustly.
    She had always promised herself that one day she would do the whole
    tourist bit—go to the British Museum, or the Zoo, or take a boat down
    to Greenwich—but she had always put the idea to the back of her
    mind, telling herself