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those of the salmon . . .
    It was getting dark and wintry outside, but in here it was very warm. Mother could not bear to be too cold. ‘I’m afraid I’m rather a chilly mortal,’ she said when everyone else was scarlet-cheeked from the blast of the heating. ‘I have to be watchful of my health.’ It was disloyal to think that Mother made sure that everyone else was watchful of it as well. Imogen did think it, and then felt guilty all over again.
    The ivy that grew outside was tapping against the window, as if it might be twining itself over the panes of glass. It was normally rather a friendly sound, but this afternoon, with darkness closing down, it was vaguely threatening. Like something trying to get in. Like something tapping out Morse. Let me in, my dear, let me in . . .
    Imogen’s eyelids were growing heavy, a great weight was pressing down on her, and her heart was beating in exact time with the let-me-in tapping. It was necessary to stay awake to avoid meeting Edmund in a nightmare, and it was necessary to stay aware in case the let-me-in creature got in . . . Or was it in already?
    It was necessary to fight the sedative and stay alert in order to work out why everyone had treated her so oddly after that appalling event at lunch.

Chapter Four
    D r John Shilling thought he had handled matters rather well on the whole. It had been a nasty business – how on earth had Imogen managed it? – and it had been a delicate business as well. But he thought he had dealt with everything pretty well.
    Royston was resting in bed – this was his third or fourth attack of angina pectoris and John had given propranolol along with a mild sedative. There was no undue cause for alarm, and no indications of any myocardial infarction. But just to be sure he would arrange for an angiograph.
    Eloise, whose constitution was so exceedingly fragile, had taken a double measure of the phenobarbital John had prescribed last month for her insomnia. He had himself shaken out two of the tablets from the prescription bottle, and Thalia had gone down to the kitchen for the mineral water Eloise preferred for swallowing pills. John had seen Thalia’s slightly curled lip at the request. Of course, none of the family really understood how extremely delicate Eloise was. John had never discussed it with the Ingrams; he liked to think of it as a small but perfectly permissible bond between himself and Eloise. Any bond of a more substantial nature was naturally unthinkable, even though it did not stop him thinking about it from time to time. He hoped he would never actually do anything about it and he thought he would not because he did not really want to spoil his vision of Eloise as a pale, untouchable creature. Also, the GMC were inclined to be severe about that kind of thing.
    He allowed himself another brandy; he was not on call this evening, and someone could drive him home later or he could call a taxi. It had been suggested that he might stay on to supper and he dwelled pleasurably on this. It was likely that the family would all have left by then, and if Eloise had slept off the phenobarbital, which was probable, she might join him in the dining room. Just the two of them together . . . There was a scenario to fuel a man’s fantasies. John Shilling’s view of Eloise as delicate and fragile did not prevent some of his fantasies about her from becoming extremely explicit.
    It was very warm here in the sitting room – Eloise could not bear the cold, poor darling – and his eyelids were feeling heavy. As well as the brandy there had been an excellent Traminer at lunch; he remembered that he had accounted for at least a bottle of it. His thoughts roamed silkily in certain forbidden realms.
    On the outer rim of consciousness he could hear the murmur of voices from the study. The family in conclave, presumably. It was nice of them to rally round Thalia so staunchly. They would probably close ranks