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involved with his writing that he's inclined to forget the existence of those around him."
    "Well, I can understand that—writing is his work," Lindsey pointed out, and was immediately surprised at herself for making any attempt to defend Simon Kirkby.
    "His work, yes, but it shouldn't be his whole life, and it is and always has been. Since Lucy went, he's been worse than ever—completely oblivious of anything going on around him, and behaves like a bear with a sore head if anyone does try to force him to be sociable for five minutes."
    "Yes, I had noticed," Lindsey said with feeling. "Was Lucy his wife?"
    "Yes, I find it hard to believe I'll never see her again. The Point seems so empty without her. She was such a vivacious girl —very attractive with masses of dark hair, large soulful brown eyes, creamy complexion, lovely figure. Yes, I could have fallen for my cousin-in-law quite easily at one time…Pity Sue hasn't inherited her looks, although she's got one or two of her mother's less commendable characteristics, unfortunately, such as prefabricating when it suits her own ends, but that's beside the point. Sue misses her mother dreadfully, and that's probably why she's so difficult these days."
    So Simon Kirkby was a widower. Miss Porlock at the agency had not been sure, and it was hardly the sort of question Lindsey could ask her employer. It was very sad for the children's sakes, and perhaps it accounted for Simon Kirkby's hardness, although it certainly did not excuse his boorishness.
    Lindsey stirred her coffee thoughtfully, disturbing the froth and staring into the little clear pools it revealed, like sky amongst the clouds.
    Andrew was studying her intently. "Now you might just be the very person to shake Simon from his apathy and bring him to his senses, who knows. You've got far more personality than any of those other housekeepers he's had, to say nothing of looks."
    Lindsey laughed. What a flatterer the man was. "Considering Tommy told me they all looked like the backs of buses and were practically in their dotage, that's rather a back-handed compliment!"
    Andrew laughed too. "Young monkey…Tommy loves to exaggerate. They were just older, that's all and of the Harris tweed and brogue shoes regime. The only thing they had in common with you, besides their uniform, was their hair-style."
    Lindsey was annoyed to feel herself colouring. "Oh, and what's wrong with my hair-style?"
    "I didn't say anything was, did I? Very neat and proper and, as a matter of fact, that uniform dress really suits your fair complexion. It looks a great deal better on you than it did on that poor Miss Pargiter…But I don't know what Sonia Vincent will say when she sees you, I'm sure. I'd like to be a fly on the wall."
    "Who's Sonia Vincent?" she asked, absently collecting pieces of froth from the rim of her cup onto her coffee spoon.
    "The only other woman who has ever been in Simon's life—Lucy's greatest pal and crony. She would do anything to get Simon to marry her…Go on, lick that spoon. I can see you're dying to. No need to stand on ceremony here, you know…It's not the Savoy!"
    But Lindsey ignored his witticism, and letting the spoon clink back into her saucer, she said, "You were telling me about Sonia Vincent."
    "So I was—Well, you'll meet her before long, I shouldn't wonder. Her mother lives locally, but Sonia works in London and is away a good part of the time. She's a model—very glam and doesn't she know it!"
    "Oh," said Lindsey in surprise. "And does Mr. Kirkby come out of hibernation when she's around?"
    "You bet he does—Sonia makes sure of that. She winkles him out of that study and forces him to notice her. It's quite amusing to watch."
    It sounded nauseating. Lindsey thought she knew Sonia Vincent's type, and found herself hoping that Simon Kirkby could recognise the difference between genuine and superficial charm. He needed someone understanding and patient, both for his sake and the children's. She was