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Richard, to make sure you hadn’t forgotten that you’re taking me.’
    ‘I hadn’t forgotten.’ Richard peeled off two layers of sweater to reveal a navy sports shirt and ran a comb through his hair. ‘But who have you got lined up for David?’
    ‘Nobody, so far. By the time I’d exhausted his list of who not to ask I find there’s nobody much left.’ She turned to Rachel. ‘Perhaps you’d like to come?’
    Receiving such an offhand invitation Rachel’s first instinct was to refuse, but then she caught the look on Richard’s face. Clearly, this was just what he was expecting her to do so, perversely, she smiled at Moira and said quietly, ‘Thank you, I’ll be happy to come. It’s nice of you to ask me.’
    ‘Good. It’s a relief to get that settled. Mind you, you'll find David good company. He can be quite a charmer —when he chooses.’ Moira turned her attention to Richard and linked her arm possessively through his. ‘I’ve half an hour to spare, Rick. Have you time for some tea at Craig Lodge before we go our separate ways?’
    ‘I’m sorry, Moira.’ Richard extricated himself from her clasp and began sorting through the papers on his desk. ‘I have work to do back at the house; besides, I’ve arranged to give Rachel a lift back to Glencarrick. Some other time, maybe.’
    Moira sighed deeply. ‘You work far too hard, my dear.’ She picked up her bag and went to the door. ‘But don’t forget you’re dining with me next Thursday, work or no work.’
    ‘I shan’t forget,’ he replied, without looking up.
    When Moira had gone, leaving behind her a faint but distinctive waft of expensive perfume, totally out of place among the sea-boots and fishing tackle of Richard’s office, Rachel sat down and prepared to wait for Richard.
    ‘Moira is very beautiful,’ she remarked alter a few moments.
    ‘Mm? Yes, I suppose she is quite attractive.’ He spoke absently.
    Rachel stared at him. It was clear that he was completely oblivious of the fact that Moira McLeod was in love with him. What a wonderful person Celia, his wife, must have been if even now, two years after her death, he still had eyes for no other woman. But watch his dark head bent over the desk Rachel could well believe it might be so. He looked the kind of man who would not love lightly, but his love, once given, would be complete and would demand nothing less in return.
    An involuntary sigh escaped her and he looked up.
    ‘You’ve been very patient,’ he said. ‘I’ve finished now, so we’ll be on our way.’ As he spoke he smiled, a smile that transformed his habitually stern features. Suddenly it was not difficult to see why Moira McLeod was in love with him.
    Rachel followed him to the car and they drove off.
    ‘Ben tells me you’ve worked with ...' he hesitated, ‘... difficult children.’ His eyes were firmly on the road ahead as he spoke.
    ‘That’s right. Until ... recently I was teaching in a school for maladjusted children.'
    ‘Melanie’s not maladjusted,’ he said quickly. ‘She was perfectly all right until two years ago; a quiet child, but normal enough. She's only been like this since—since her mother died.'
    He spoke those last words roughly and Rachel noticed that his knuckles showed white on the steering wheel.
    ‘It was a shattering experience for her. And for you,’ she couldn’t help adding.
    His reply, if he made one, was drowned in the sound of his horn as he honked at a silly sheep that trotted across the path of the car and he didn’t speak again until he stopped the car outside Kilfinan Cottage.
    ‘I wonder....' He turned the engine off and shifted in his seat to look at her, his dark eyes troubled, ‘Maybe if you talked to Melanie. Maybe, in time ....' He passed his hand across his forehead. ‘Miss Botham, the speech therapist, doesn’t seem to be having any success at all.’ Rachel frowned. ‘I’ve so little time here. I’m only here for a holiday, you know. I have to go home