Barbara Taylor Bradford’s 4-Book Collection. Barbara Taylor Bradford

tweed sports jacket and pulled it out.

      ‘You have mine,’ Francesca said, tapping Diana lightly on the shoulder.

      Diana nodded. ‘Yes, I do. They may not be needed, but it’s best to have them ready.’ She braked as the border guards came forward to meet the car. When they saw Diana, who was leaning out of the window, they smiled and nodded and waved her on. Within a few minutes she was sliding to a stop at the German frontier. Once again the border patrol seemed to know her and they chatted cordially, glanced indifferently at the passports, and signalled her to pass through the barrier which had just been raised.

      When they were over the border, and speeding down the road again, Victor said, ‘They didn’t seem particularly interested in us. Is that normal procedure?’

      ‘Not really, but I’m backwards and forwards to Salzburg all the time, and the guards at the German side live in and around the area. They’ve known me for many years,’ Diana explained. She slackened her speed. ‘Victor, do look around. Isn’t Bavaria beautiful?’

      He peered out of the windows with interest. Forests of pine rose majestically on either side of the road, the stately firs of a green so dark they were almost black, their branches weighted with frostings of snow that glistened in the brilliant sunshine. The wooded landscape stretched as far as the eye could see, its impressive sweep unbroken by any form of habitation or signs of civilization. And towering above these great coniferous forests were the glacial Alps, awesome in their grandeur and solitary beauty under a sky of dazzling azure.

      ‘It’s breathtaking,’ Victor pronounced. ‘I can’t wait to hit those slopes.’ He indicated the range of mountains on the far horizon.

      ‘I know what you mean,’ Diana said. ‘Francesca tells me you’re a champion skier.’

      ‘She said the same about you!’

      ‘Oh, I’m not too bad,’ Diana answered off-handedly. ‘And since you’re obviously an experienced skier, I’ve decided to take you up on the Jenner tomorrow. Then if you want a longer run, we can tackle the Rossfeld on Friday. The snow has been good this year. It’s lasted well. Conditions are ideal. You’ll get some good skiing, Victor.’

      ‘I hope so. I’ve been looking forward to this break for weeks on end.’

      Francesca said, ‘I don’t think I’ll be joining the two of you. At least not on the Jenner or the Rossfeld. They’re too difficult. To tell you the truth, even the nursery slopes seem a bit frightening to me this year. Perhaps I should skip the skiing entirely.’

      ‘That might be best. You’d better not tax yourself,’ Victor cautioned. ‘You’ve been sick, remember. I think it’s wiser and safer to do something less dangerous.’

      ‘I’ll potter around the Schloss and keep Christian company.’

      ‘Oh that will please him, Cheska,’ Diana smiled, affection ringing in her voice. She said to Victor, ‘I hear you usually go to Klosters. The skiing is certainly comparable here.’ She sighed lightly and shook her head. ‘When you’re up above six thousand feet everything down below seems so very petty, utterly sham, wherever the mountain is located. Up there, surrounded by such incredible beauty and purity, you feel closer to God, nearer to the truth, and you suddenly get a totally different perspective on the world, see it with clearer eyes. Isn’t that so, Victor?’

      Before he had the opportunity to respond, her laughter echoed around the small car. ‘Oh dear, I’m sounding much too serious and philosophical. The wrong mood entirely.’ Her eyes flicked to Victor and she smiled, brought her gaze back to the road. ‘Cheska and I decided last night that these next few days are going to be carefree, and lots of fun.’

      ‘That suits me,’ Victor said. ‘And I hope you’re going to let me take you all out to dinner one night …’ He stopped, remembering Diana had said he was conspicuous, and added, with a quirky smile, ‘I guess I’ll have to go incognito, wearing my skiing gear and goggles.’

      The girls laughed, and Diana said, ‘That’s an interesting thought. And thank you for your lovely invitation. As a matter of fact, there are some charming old taverns in the area, and also in Salzburg, which I know you’d enjoy. But … well, we’ll see,’ she finished on a noncommittal note.

      Francesca reached out and touched Victor’s shoulder. ‘It’s Diana’s birthday later this week. There’s going to be a small dinner party on Thursday evening. It was planned before she and Christian knew we were coming. You don’t mind meeting a few of their friends, do you?’

      ‘I’m entirely in your hands, kid. And the party sounds great.’ He made a mental note to talk to Francesca about a birthday present for her cousin, wondering absently if there were any good shops in the town.

      Diana and Francesca launched into a discussion about clothes and the outfits they would wear for the party, and Victor lit another cigarette, listening to them with half an ear, amused by their feminine chatter, as well as by the turn of events. You never know in life, old buddy, you just never know, he said to himself.

      Victor sank into his own thoughts for a few moments. Francesca’s cousin was unusually mature and sophisticated in the best sense of that word. Young as she was, she had undoubtedly experienced her own heartache. There had been a ring of conviction and truth and knowledge in her voice when she had mentioned the worthless, the petty, and the sham. The whole world was sham, wasn’t it? The question hung there and he pondered it, and found himself thinking about Francesca. There was nothing sham or shoddy about her. She was pure gold, and very real. The genuine thing, and then some. She’s also verboten, he reminded himself with a start. Unexpectedly, Victor was no longer able to push aside his feelings for her, nor ignore the attraction she held for him. And he was filled with disquiet, contemplating the five days ahead of him, and of living under the same roof with her. Oh Christ, he thought, what have I done?

      Victor glanced at his watch. They had been on the road for almost an hour now, and he was about to ask how much farther it was to Wittingenhof, when Diana announced, ‘Here we are, Victor.’

      She dropped her speed and came to a standstill, waiting for another car to pass, and then she drove across the highway and began to climb a dirt road, patched with ice in places and recently layered with cinders. It was narrow and twisting, and rose steeply through a dense wood of giant Scotch pines and drifting banks of frozen snow. They continued to climb for a good twenty minutes. The road began to widen and gradually it levelled off, became a wide flat plateau where the forest thinned out.

      Victor was staring ahead. He could see a stone gatehouse, its white-washed façade intersected with dark wood beams, small windows with wooden shutters and brass carriage lamps on either side of a great stone arch. This cut through the centre of the gatehouse like a tunnel, and from it swung massive black iron gates hanging wide open. Victor lifted his eyes as the Volkswagen rumbled over the cobblestones under the archway. He read the name, Schloss Wittingenhof, and the date, 1833, carved in the stonework above the entrance leading into an estate of some considerable size.

      Diana swung left and stopped in front of a complex of buildings adjoining the gatehouse, obviously stables and garages, and pulled on the brake. She jumped out of the car, calling to Victor, ‘Let’s release poor Cheska, shall we?’ and began tugging at the skis.

      ‘I’ll do that,’ he cried, also alighting, but she had already removed them when he came round to the other side of the Volkswagen. Francesca clambered out, stretched herself, and pulled a face. ‘God, I was just about ready to scream. I’m terribly cramped and stiff.’

      ‘Don’t blame me. I offered to get a taxi for the luggage,’ he reminded her. ‘Listen, swing your arms and touch your toes. That’ll work out the kinks.’ She did as he suggested, and he made a motion to lift his bag off the back seat.

      Diana hoisted his skis onto her shoulder. She said, ‘Don’t bother with your luggage, Victor. Manfred will bring it in later.’ She set off down a patch cut through a wide expanse of clean snow, her silver-gilt hair gleaming in the sunlight as she walked