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it,’ I returned drily. ‘Most people have to pay through the nose for the privilege!’
    â€˜It wouldn’t be strictly a portrait, more a – representation, but I’ve often thought I’d like to capture her on canvas. She has a lovely face and perfect bone structure, but it’s that superb colouring I’m after.’
    â€˜I never knew you cared!’ I said with brittle flippancy.
    He laughed. ‘Don’t worry, it’s professional interest only. She’s not my type.’
    But nor am I, I thought achingly. And whether Stella was his type or not, I didn’t doubt that he was hers. Like most of my women friends, she played up to him almost unconsciously. I really couldn’t blame her. Lance must seem a romantic figure to them, tall and fair with steady, deep-set grey eyes and his slow smile, quite apart from the added ingredient of his considerable fame as an artist. I was fully aware of the envy I aroused. They weren’t to know that my own relationship with him was scarcely more intimate than theirs. I for my part passionately envied Stella the prospect of long hours ahead in this sweet-smelling seclusion with Lance.
    â€˜What do you want her to represent?’
    â€˜I’m not sure exactly. Woman through the ages type of thing the eternal female – earth mother. Anyway, I’ll see what she says. Oh, and before I forget, I met rather a pleasant chap at the golf club yesterday. Forrest, his name was. I told him if he and his family would like to come along on Sunday we’d be pleased to see them. They haven’t been here long and don’t know many people.’
    â€˜How many children has he?’
    â€˜Twin daughters, I believe. Briony probably knows them, they’ll be about her age.’
    â€˜So that’s the Pomfretts and ourselves – seven – and this new crowd, eleven – and Cynthia and Edgar are bound to come – thirteen, and of course Mark.’
    Lance frowned and drained his cup. ‘I’m not too keen on Briony seeing quite so much of that young man.’
    I smiled wryly. ‘And what’s wrong with this one?’
    He met my eyes defensively. ‘What do you mean?’
    â€˜Oh come on, Lance! You know you find faults with all of them. The fact is you don’t like Briony seeing much of anyone except –’ Somehow I managed to swallow back ‘you’ and substitute ‘us’.
    â€˜She’s too young to be tied up with boys,’ he said stubbornly.
    â€˜She’s nearly eighteen. What do you expect?’
    For the first time the thought flashed through my head: what will happen when Briony eventually gets married? Will our own marriage be able to withstand her loss, or will it simply crumble away to nothing? I looked down at Lance’s tanned slightly frowning face in sudden fear. Almost academically I wondered what his reaction would be if I took his head between my hands and kissed him hard on the mouth. Embarrassed surprise, probably. As far as he was concerned, our marriage was what he had always intended it to be – a pleasant enough way of keeping Briony at his side. In all fairness he had never pretended otherwise.
    I gave my head a quick little shake, picked up the empty cup and left him. He did not try to detain me. Across the garden the house stood waiting, gracious and dignified. As I regained the height of the terrace I could see over the stone wall which surrounded the pool and its sunbathing area, and caught sight of Dick, the younger gardener, busy with the filters. Fleetingly I wondered whether to have a swim before dinner and decided against it.
    Averting my eyes from the painting, I went swiftly back through the sitting-room to return the tray to Mrs Rose.

CHAPTER TWO
    I didn’t sleep well that night. Worries which could be forced beneath the surface during daylight hours emerged to fill my head with their buzzing possibilities. For some