Platinum Coast. Lynne Pemberton

on.’ Stephen opened the door and Christina stepped inside. It was damp and musty-smelling.

      ‘This was Victoria’s den.’ He pointed to a heap of dusty toys piled in one corner. Rubbing a small pane in one window with the flat of his hand, he beckoned to Christina. ‘Look.’

      With her nose almost touching the glass, she peered out onto an enclosed patio where flowering plants poked through old flagstones and honeysuckle and clematis crawled up pale stone walls. A small swimming-pool was set in the centre. It looked unused. Dead insects and leaves floated on the surface.

      ‘Don’t you use the pool?’ Christina asked, staring at the stagnant water.

      ‘I do occasionally, but Victoria never does. She’s afraid of the water. She almost drowned when she was two years old and has never forgotten it.’

      ‘I love swimming,’ Christina said.

      ‘Well, swim you shall. I’ll get Jack the gardener to clean the pool out this afternoon, and if it’s warm enough we can go swimming together in the morning.’

      ‘How about skinny-dipping this evening?’ she said mischievously.

      ‘If we can manage it, I’m game.’

      They left the summer-house and walked hand in hand through several acres of woodland, completing the tour of the twenty acres of grounds at the stables, where Victoria was grooming her bay gelding in the yard as they approached.

      ‘Come and meet Mischief.’ Stephen pulled a reluctant Christina towards the fourteen-hand pony. She thought the name might be apt and approached the animal warily.

      Victoria continued grooming Mischief’s tail as Christina cautiously stroked his mane.

      ‘How long have you had her?’

      ‘Daddy bought him for my tenth birthday as a surprise present. Didn’t you, Daddy?’

      Stephen nodded and smiled.

      Victoria continued speaking just to him. ‘Do you remember how you tied his tail and mane with lots of big red ribbons, and what fun we had that day? I’ll never part with Mischief. Even when I get big I’ll still keep him.’

      Victoria finished grooming the horse’s tail, and put the brush on a bench by her feet. ‘Daddy always knows just what to buy me.’

      She stood next to her father, watching Christina stroke the pony’s neck.

      Stephen smiled. ‘I think he likes you, Christina.’

      ‘This pony has good taste,’ she said, and gave hisa neck a final pat.

      Victoria left her father’s side to stand in front of Mischief, saying, ‘Come on, boy, back you go.’ She pushed him back towards his stall, but he was enjoying the attention he was receiving from Christina and did not want to move.

      ‘Back, boy!’ Victoria slapped his hind quarters and Mischief bucked, landing heavily on Christina’s foot. She screamed and pulled away from the beast, who rolled his eyes at the noise and movement. Victoria did not spare her a glance but concentrated on calming her pony.

      ‘Are you okay, Christina?’ Concerned, Stephen bent over and examined her rapidly swelling foot.

      ‘She’ll be fine, Daddy, really. What a fuss. It happens to me all the time.’

      Victoria bolted the stable half-door and held out her hand to Mischief. In it were two Polo mints which the pony took and chomped with great relish.

      ‘See you tomorrow, my darling Mischief,’ she crooned. ‘I hope you’re going to win for me.’ Then she turned to Christina. ‘I really would think twice about coming to the gymkhana tomorrow. There’ll be lots of horses there and you could get trodden on again.’ Her voice was cold.

      Stephen took Christina’s arm and gave his daughter an angry glare. ‘Have you no sympathy, Victoria? Can’t you see Christina’s hurt?’

      ‘It’s not my fault if she’s not used to being around horses.’

      A petulant look appeared on Victoria’s face. She would have relented and said she was sorry, if only for her father’s sake, but could not bring herself to speak as she watched him supporting Christina and tenderly sympathizing with her as she limped out of the stable-yard.

      Victoria threw a spiteful look in Christina’s direction and muttered under her breath, though loud enough for them to hear, ‘Stupid girl! She’s just making a fuss to get attention.’ Before her father could rebuke her she ran past them and up the small service drive across the top paddock. They saw her round the back of the house and vanish from sight.

      ‘I’m sorry about her behaviour,’ Stephen apologized as he helped Christina back to the house. ‘She resents anyone in my life. That’s why I never bring women down here. You’re the first since Barbara’s death.’

      Christina winced in pain and thought: If this is the way Victoria’s going to act, I’ll probably be the last!

      She would have liked to have said so, but held back.

      ‘I’m sure she’ll get used to me in time.’

      She squeezed Stephen’s arm as a sharp pain shot through her ankle. She was positive that Victoria had engineered her accident and sincerely hoped that the wilful child would get used to her soon. If not, she might not survive the weekend.

      Within hours Christina’s foot had swelled to the size of a small balloon, and Stephen insisted on calling in his local doctor, who suggested the possibility of a hair-line fracture. There was certainly a very severe sprain. He advised an X-ray first thing Monday morning. Meanwhile he strapped her foot and ankle and gave her pain-killers, recommending lots of rest with her feet up.

      Stephen had planned to go to a local Italian restaurant for dinner, so had given Dorothy Barnes the night off.

      Christina insisted he should still take Victoria.

      ‘Really, Stephen, I’ll be fine if you make me a cheese sandwich and leave me here in front of the telly.’

      He hesitated. ‘I really don’t like to.’

      They were sitting in the living-room in front of a deep inglenook fireplace.

      ‘Would you like me to light the fire?’ Stephen pointed to the grate which was ready laid with logs and newspaper neatly arranged on the black, charred iron. A dog-chewed wicker basket full of extra logs stood on the hearth next to a highly polished brass fender.

      Christina shook her head. ‘I’m warm enough, thanks.’ She shifted herself into a more comfortable position on the royal-blue damask-covered three-seater sofa with its assortment of needlepoint cushions behind her back and neck. Her leg was resting on a small foot-stool.

      ‘Anyway, you mustn’t disappoint Victoria. She’s looking forward to it.’

      Christina watched Stephen’s reaction carefully, thinking how attractive he looked in a navy-blue sports jacket and a mint-green shirt that almost matched the colour of his eyes.

      She wanted him to say that Victoria could miss her treat for once, but was not at all surprised when he said, ‘I’ll be as quick as possible, I promise. We’ll be a couple of hours at the most.’

      He looked relieved as he said again, ‘Are you sure you’ll be okay?’

      Victoria walked into the room and stood in front of the sofa, unable to disguise the satisfied smirk on her face.

      ‘I’m really sorry about your foot, Christina. It’s such a shame you can’t come with us tonight. Mario makes the most fantastic lasagne.’ She smiled sweetly at her father.

      ‘My, my, you look very pretty. Is that a new jumper?’

      Victoria had changed into a soft pink angora short-sleeved sweater with the head of a white Persian kitten appliquéd on the front. It was tucked into faded