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it? As a matter of fact, I was going to ask you all to spend Christmas with me, but now it looks as though Biddy's saved me the trouble.’
    ‘Oh, Louise, I'm sorry. Now I feel I've let you down.’
    ‘Rubbish. Better for us all to have a bit of a change. Will Biddy's boy be there?’
    ‘Ned? Unfortunately, no. He's going to Zermatt to ski, with some of his term at Dartmouth.’
    Aunt Louise raised her eyebrows, not approving of expensive and extravagant gallivanting. But then, Biddy had always spoiled her only child quite appallingly, and could deny him no pleasure.
    ‘Pity,’ was all she said. ‘He would have been a companion for Judith.’
    ‘Aunt Louise, Ned's sixteen! He wouldn't take any notice of me at all. I expect I shall enjoy myself much more without him there…’
    ‘You're probably right. And knowing Biddy, you'll have a high old time. Haven't seen her for ages. When was she last here, Molly, staying with you?’
    ‘At the beginning of last summer. You remember. We had that lovely heat wave…’
    ‘Was that when she came to dinner with me in those extraordinary beach pyjamas?’
    ‘Yes, that's right.’
    ‘And I found her in your garden sunbathing in a two-piece bathing suit. Flesh-pink. She might just as well have been naked.’
    ‘She's always very up-to-date.’ Molly felt moved to stand up for her flighty sister, however feebly. ‘I suppose before very long we'll all be wearing beach pyjamas.’
    ‘Heaven forbid.’
    ‘What will you do for Christmas, Louise? I do hope you won't feel abandoned.’
    ‘Heavens, no. I shall rather enjoy being on my own. I'll maybe ask Billy Fawcett over for a drink, and then we'll go down to the club for lunch. They usually put on quite a good do.’ Judith had a mental picture of all the golfers, in their knickerbockers and stout shoes, pulling crackers and donning paper hats. ‘And then, perhaps, have a rubber or two of bridge.’
    Molly frowned. ‘Billy Fawcett? I don't think I know him.’
    ‘No. You wouldn't. Old friend from the Quetta days. Retired now, and thought he'd give Cornwall a try. So he's rented one of those new bungalows they've built down my road. I'm going to introduce him around. You must meet him before you go. Keen golfer as well, so I've put him up for the club.’
    ‘That's nice for you, Louise.’
    ‘What's nice?’
    ‘Well…having an old friend come to live nearby. And a golfer too. Not that you're ever short of a partner.’
    But Louise was not about to commit herself. She only played golf with the very best. ‘It depends,’ she said, forcefully stubbing out her cigarette, ‘on what sort of handicap he gets.’ She looked at her watch. ‘Heavens, is that the time? I must be on my way.’ She gathered up her handbag and pulled herself out of her chair, and Molly and Judith, as well, rose to their feet. ‘Tell Phyllis, a delicious tea. You'll miss that girl. Has she found another position yet?’
    ‘I don't think she's tried very hard.’
    ‘A treasure for some lucky person. No, don't ring for her. Judith can see me out. And if I don't see you before Christmas, Molly, have a ripping time. Give me a tinkle when you get back. Let me know when you want to move Judith's belongings up to Windyridge. And, Judith, we'll buy the bicycle at the beginning of the Easter holidays. You won't need it before then, anyway…’

1936
     

     
    T he black morning was so cold that, slowly waking, Judith was aware of her nose as a separate entity, frozen to her face. Last night, going to bed, the room had felt too icy even to open the window, but she had drawn back the curtains a bit, and now, beyond the frost-starred glass of the window, gleamed yellow light from the lamp in the street below. There was no sound. Perhaps it was still the middle of the night. And then she heard the clop of horses' hooves, the milk-delivery cart, and knew that it was not the middle of the night at all, but morning.
    It was now necessary to make a huge effort of