Tabitha in Moonlight. Betty Neels

other than that of polite interest. ‘Yes? In that case I daresay Fred and I shall give up about halfway. We are neither of us as young as we were.’ If he heard Tabitha’s sigh of relief he gave no sign, and now that the danger of arriving at Chidlake with him and being seen by a furious Lilith was averted, Tabitha became quite cheerful.

      They started to walk back along the Cobb with Fred lumbering beside them. They were halfway along its length when Mr van Beek said:

      ‘You should wear your hair like that more often.’

      Tabitha slowed her pace to look at him. ‘Like this?’ she asked in an amazed voice. ‘Just hanging—I’ve tied it back anyhow.’

      ‘And very nice too, although I do appreciate that it might not do under a sister’s cap.’

      ‘Oh, I couldn’t,’ her voice was matter-of-fact, ‘it took hours and I’d never have time in the morning.’

      He stooped and picked up a pebble and threw it for Fred, so that they had to stand and wait while he shuffled after it. ‘Yes, I daresay, but surely after a little practice you would be quicker?’

      She accepted Fred’s proffered pebble and gave him an affectionate pat before she replied: ‘I suppose I could try. But what’s the point?’

      ‘Why, to prove to yourself that you aren’t plain, of course.’

      Tabitha felt temper well up inside her. ‘Oh, don’t be ridiculous,’ she cried, ‘and stop patronizing me just because you’re sorry for me. You’ve got Lilith…’

      They were off the Cobb now, climbing the steep road to the footpath. She started to run, not looking back, and didn’t stop until she was almost at the end of the path, with Chidlake in sight across the fields.

      She went back before tea, pleading an interview with Matron which couldn’t be avoided. That Matron would wish to interview any of her staff on a Sunday was highly improbable, but it was the only excuse Tabitha had been able to think of and in any case neither of her listeners were sufficiently interested to want to know more. She said her goodbyes thankfully and drove the Fiat out of the gate and up the hill, away from the village and the sea. At the top she stopped and looked back. It was a very clear day, Chidlake stood out sharply against its panoramic background. She could see every window and every chimney, even the roses at the front door. She saw something else too—the Bentley gliding up the hill below the house, then turning in at its gate to stop before the door. She didn’t wait to see Mr van Beek get out, but started the little car’s engine with a savagery quite alien to her nature and drove, a great deal faster than was her habit, back to her own little flat.