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‘Oh, you’re up!’ she exclaimed, pushing open the door and entering the room to reveal a tray laden with fruit juice, ham and eggs, toast and marmalade. ‘I was going to give you breakfast in bed. You looked rather tired last night and I told your father you looked as though you could do with a rest.’
Sophie forced a smile. ‘I’m fine, really I am. But it was kind of you, Mummy.’
‘Well, why don’t you put on your dressing gown and pop back into bed?’ suggested Laura, making room on the bedside table for the tray. ‘It’s a dull morning and there’s absolutely nothing for you to get up for. Your father won’t be back from surgery for another half hour and then you can come down and have coffee with him.’
Sophie hesitated. She wasn’t hungry and the prospect of tackling all the food on the tray made her feel slightly sick. But perhaps it was better to hide her lack of appetite up here where she could always dispose of some of it down the lavatory.
‘All right,’ she agreed, pulling on the frilly flowersprigged white wrapper which matched the nightdress she had just shed. ‘I’ll be lazy for once.’
Laura settled the tray across her legs and then stood looking down at her thoughtfully while Sophie manfully swallowed the fruit juice. ‘Are you all right, darling?’ she asked unexpectedly.
Sophie coloured and almost choked on the grapefruit juice. ‘Why—of course,’ she managed, clearing her throat. ‘Shouldn’t I be?’
Laura shook her head. ‘Yes, of course.’ She paused. ‘Graham White came over here last week to enquire when you were due home. I think he’s looking forward to seeing you again.’
Sophie put down her glass. ‘Graham White? Oh, you mean that boy from Trefyddol.’
‘Yes. You know Graham. His father and yours play golf occasionally together.’
‘Oh, yes.’ Conscious of Laura’s gaze Sophie picked up the fork and lifted a tiny button mushroom into her mouth. ‘I don’t know him awfully well. He’s at college, isn’t he?’
‘Yes. He’s just completed his first year.’ Laura bit her lip. ‘I invited him over next weekend, as a matter of fact. I thought you and he might have a game of tennis together.’
‘Oh, Mummy!’ Sophie couldn’t hide her dismay now. ‘I can play tennis with Simon and—and Robert!’
‘I know that. And I’m sure Simon will be only too willing to give you a game, but Robert may be—rather busy.’
Sophie concentrated her attention on her plate. ‘That’s all right, I don’t mind. I can amuse myself.’
‘But you should have friends of your own age, Sophie!’ protested Laura. ‘You’ve spent too much time with Simon and Robert.’
Sophie looked up. ‘Honestly, Mummy, you don’t have to make plans for me. I’m quite capable of entertaining myself.’ She moved her shoulders awkwardly. ‘Actually, I’m thinking of getting a job.’
The idea had only just occurred to her, but Laura was not to know that, and her stepmother’s face assumed an anxious expression.
‘A job, Sophie? Oh, I don’t think your father would want you to do that.’
‘Why not?’ It wasn’t such a bad idea, after all.
‘Well——’ Laura spread her hands. ‘You’ve only just finished school. I think he hopes you’ll spend this year before you go to university with us.’
Sophie decided she might as well get hanged for a sheep as for a lamb. ‘I haven’t decided whether I want to go to university yet, Mummy,’ she said quietly.
‘What? Not go to university?’ Laura was horrified. ‘Oh, don’t be silly, Sophie, of course you’re going to university. Your father has great hopes for you. I’m sure you wouldn’t dream of letting him down like that!’
Sophie pursed her lips. ‘University isn’t everything,’ she insisted.
‘What do you mean?’
‘Well, I—I might want to do something else. Get—married, for example.’
‘Married?’ Laura shook her head impatiently. ‘Sophie, you’re talking nonsense, and you know it. Good heavens, you’re only seventeen! You can’t seriously be considering abandoning your studies for—for something as distant as marriage!’
Sophie sniffed. ‘As I said, I haven’t decided yet.’
‘Well, I’m pretty sure if you tell this to your father, he’ll be terribly hurt. Sophie, I know he loves the boys—I know he’s always treated them as his own sons, but they’re not—ultimately. You are his daughter. Surely that must mean something to you. Surely you’ll allow him to do for you what he has done for the boys?’
Sophie moved uncomfortably. Laura was right, of course. If she did decide not to go on with her education her father would be very disappointed. Hurt, too, if she was honest.
Sighing, she pushed the tray aside. ‘I’m sorry, Mummy, I’m not very hungry right now.’
Laura, who had taken a few steps towards the door, came back to the bed. She looked troubled. ‘And I’m sorry, too, Sophie,’ she said heavily. ‘It’s your first morning at home and already I’m upsetting you. I think we’d better leave things as they are for the time being. There’s no hurry, whatever you decide.’
Sophie felt suddenly terribly guilty. ‘Oh, Mummy!’ she exclaimed, and scrambling up on to her knees she hugged the older woman. ‘I didn’t mean to upset you either.’ She drew back to look into her face. ‘But I might get a job, you know. Lots of people do. Even—even if it’s just until I go to—to university.’
Laura’s expression cleared. She looked down at her stepdaughter affectionately. They had always had such a good relationship and she didn’t want to spoil that. There had never been any friction between them, any jealousy over Dr. Kemble or the boys. Nothing must change that.
‘All right, darling,’ she agreed with a smile. ‘We’ll talk about it. But not yet. Give your father a few days to get used to having you back again. He misses you, you know.’
Sophie sat back on her heels. ‘All right.’ She glanced round. ‘And now I think I’d better get dressed. I want to go outside and look around. I always enjoy my first few days at home getting used to things again.’
Laura picked up the tray and left her, apparently reassured by Sophie’s acquiescence. Sophie took off the frilly wrapper and rescued the denim jeans from the back of her wardrobe. Last summer she had taken a bath in them to shrink them to her body, but now she found they scarcely fitted. She had filled out in all the right places, but the jeans didn’t give in the way her skin did. She sighed. They were all she had and they would have to do until she had had time to do some shopping. With a grimace she pulled on a navy blue tee-shirt with a caricature of a once well-loved pop star on the front, and tugged a brush through her long, silvery fair hair.
She encountered Simon on the landing outside his bedroom, and when he saw her he fell back with assumed horror.
‘My God!’ he exclaimed humorously. ‘You don’t intend going outside these four walls in those things, do you?’
Sophie wrinkled her nose at him good-naturedly. ‘Don’t you like the way I look?’
Simon gave a mocking smile. ‘Oh, yes. I like it. But I don’t somehow think your father will.’
Sophie sighed and pulled impatiently at the tightfitting pants. ‘I can’t help it. I shrank them last year and now they’re too small.’
‘Get your coat and I’ll take you into Hereford to buy some more,’ suggested Simon reasonably. ‘I’m free this morning.’
Sophie was tempted, but she hadn’t been downstairs yet. She didn’t know what Robert might be doing. The only thing she could be certain of was that he would surely not ask her to join him.
‘I’m not sure …’ she began awkwardly, and Simon assumed a tolerant expression. ‘Rob’s not in,’ he commented laconically, and she started at the mention of his name. ‘He’s gone sailing with John. They arranged it last night.’
‘Oh! Oh, I see.’ Sophie managed to shrug and walked to the head of the stairs. ‘Is Daddy back yet?’ Simon frowned. ‘That sounds like his car now.’ He paused. ‘Shall we go to Hereford?’
Sophie looked back at him. ‘All right. If—if you like.’ She looked down the stairs as her father’s footsteps could be heard on the flags outside the front door. ‘But I promised I’d have coffee with Daddy first.’
‘Okay.’ Simon made her a mock bow and opened his bedroom door. ‘I’ll be ready in half an hour.’
Simon was right in his assumption that Dr. Kemble would not approve of the revealing jeans. ‘You can’t go out in those, Sophie,’ he exclaimed, as they sat together in his study, companionably sharing a pot of coffee. Laura had tactfully left them alone, and Sophie was almost happy sitting in the huge leather chair opposite her father in the book-lined room she had loved for most of her life.
‘Simon says he’ll take me to Hereford to buy some more,’ she replied, sipping the aromatic beverage with real enjoyment. ‘The only thing is …’
She paused and her father laughed. ‘I know. You’ve got no money.’
‘How did you guess?’ Sophie actually chuckled. ‘Actually, Mummy said she would buy me some clothes these holidays. All my things are getting too small for me.’
‘I’m not surprised,’ remarked Dr. Kemble dryly. ‘You’re growing up, Sophie. You’re quite a young woman now.’
‘Yes.’ His words had somehow reminded her of Robert’s rejection with painful clarity.
If her father noticed her sudden withdrawal, he chose to ignore it, and went on: ‘Go into Levinsons. Your mother has an account there. Buy anything you want.’
‘Thank you.’ Sophie summoned enthusiasm. ‘But I shan’t buy much today. I’ll wait until Mummy can come, too.’
‘All right, suit yourself.’ Her father was writing a cheque as he spoke. ‘Here.’ He passed the cheque over to her and she stared at the sum he had written in astonishment.
‘But, Daddy——’
‘Take it into the bank, deposit it in your own name. I don’t want you having to come to me every time you ladder your stockings or need a new lipstick.’
‘But, Daddy——’ Sophie pointed helplessly at the generous cheque, ‘this will keep me in tights and cosmetics for years!’
Dr. Kemble screwed the top on his pen with a smile. ‘All the better. But somehow I don’t think it will last as long as you imagine. Everything is becoming more expensive, and I don’t want my daughter reduced to shopping in discount stores.’
‘Oh, Daddy!’ Sophie slid off her chair and hugged him closely. ‘Oh, Daddy, I do love you!’
‘And I love you,’ he answered huskily, pulling her down on to his knee, and at once she stiffened. But only for a moment. It was too familiar. The same room—even the same chair! With a choking sob she wrapped her arms round her father’s neck and burst into tears.
He allowed her to cry for a few minutes and then he pushed his handkerchief into her hand and said: ‘I know all about it—Rob told me. He also told me that you—well, you’d taken it rather badly. Darling, it’s only natural. Rob is a very attractive man. Any girl would feel the same. But you’ve got to get things into perspective. Rob is twelve years older than you are. He has his own life to lead, and you have yours. Now, run along and wash your face and get ready to go with Simon. And—and Sophie——’ This as she halted rather stiffly by the door. ‘Sophie, don’t get any ideas about Simon either, will you, darling?’
Simon’s car was a Chrysler station wagon, a much more conventional vehicle than his brother’s Jensen, and more suitable to the sometimes rugged country roads. Sophie had changed into a plain short-skirted suit of cream wool, which had been bought for her the previous Easter and was therefore reasonably styled, and an olive green shirt. With her hair secured in a tortoiseshell clasp she looked much older, and Simon looked at her twice as she came to join him in the station wagon.
‘Nice,’ he commented, as she slid into the seat beside him. ‘Are you ready?’
‘Hmm.’ Sophie looked back at the house to wave at her father and stepmother who had come to see them off. ‘Yes, I’m ready. Let’s go.’
As Laura had said, it was a dull morning, but gradually the sun was breaking through the clouds, and although it hadn’t the humid heat of yesterday, the day was not cool. Simon drove smoothly and after a while Sophie felt her taut nerves relaxing. She brushed a hand across her cheeks. Had Simon noticed that she had been crying? If he had, he wouldn’t mention it. Not unless she did.
Hereford was busy with holidaymakers and they had difficulty finding somewhere to park. All the regular car-parks were full, but eventually they managed to squeeze into the kerb between a furniture wagon and a Mini. Simon locked the car and they walked back towards the main thoroughfare where Levinsons occupied a prominent position.
‘You don’t have to come into the teenage department with me,’ Sophie told him, as they rode up in the lift. Levinsons was of the older type of store where escalators were not in evidence.
Simon pushed his hands into the pockets of his denim jacket. ‘Don’t you want me to?’
Sophie sighed. ‘I thought you wouldn’t want to.’
‘What?’ Simon shook his head. ‘And have you come out with something like those jeans you were sporting earlier?’ he teased.
Sophie felt her lips twitching. ‘All right. Thanks, Simon.’
Looking up at him in the close confines of the lift she surprised a rather intense look in his eyes, but then it disappeared and he said lightly: ‘That’s okay. I’ll enjoy the floor-show.’
In the event, Sophie bought two pairs of jeans—one in denim like those she had discarded, and a second pair in yellow corduroy. She also chose a couple of shirts and cardigans and a long cotton skirt which was straight to the knee and then fell in layers of frills to her ankles. Simon approved all her purchases and after they were stowed in the station wagon suggested that they had lunch in town.
‘But won’t Mummy be expecting us back?’ asked Sophie doubtfully.
Simon shrugged. ‘I told her we might lunch out. It’s a cold meal at home and it won’t spoil if we’re not there.’
Sophie hesitated. ‘All right, she said. ‘I think I’d like that, Simon.’
‘Good.’ Simon took one hand out of his pocket and slid his fingers down over her wrist and between hers. ‘Where shall we go?’
They ate in a little Italian restaurant which Simon had discovered some weeks before in a side street just off the market place. There were muted lights and low banquettes beside red-clothed tables, and air-conditioning to keep the place cool. They had poached eggs with anchovies, veal cutlets coated in breadcrumbs and fried in butter, and stuffed peaches soaked in wine. Even Sophie could not resist such appetizing delicacies and she made quite a good meal. She sat back at last, unable to finish her peach, but feeling infinitely better. Simon viewed her warmer complexion with satisfaction and said:
‘Did you enjoy it?’
Sophie swallowed the last of her wine and nodded. ‘Mmm, it was marvellous!’
‘Well, it’s the first meal you’ve eaten since you arrived home,’ remarked Simon dryly. ‘You only picked at your dinner last night and I saw the breakfast tray that my mother brought downstairs this morning.’
Sophie looked pointedly round the restaurant. ‘Has this place been open very long? I don’t remember seeing it at Easter.’
‘Three months, I believe.’ Simon rested his elbows on the table, cupping his chin on his knuckles, watching her. ‘Did you know that the parents have arranged for us all to go to France in August?’
‘France?’ Sophie’s head jerked back and she looked at him in surprise. ‘No, I didn’t know.’ She frowned. ‘Who—who do you mean by all?’
‘You, me, Mum and Dad, the Pages——’
‘Oh, no!’ Sophie groaned. ‘Not Vicky Page!’
‘And her parents. Mum and Dad have rented a villa in Brittany.’ Simon grimaced. ‘You should worry. It’s me she’s after, and everyone knows it. In fact, I’m pretty sure the parents approve. After all, she is the vet’s daughter, and she’s a local girl. Entirely suitable. Unfortunately, she doesn’t suit me.’
Sophie watched sympathetically as he picked up his wine glass and swallowed its contents with the fatalistic confidence of a man about to face a firing squad.
‘I suppose they think it’s time you were considering settling down,’ she ventured comfortably.
Simon’s eyes were not grey like his brother’s but blue, and they darkened perceptibly as they rested on Sophie’s understanding face. ‘I think so, too,’ he said steadily. ‘But not with Vicky Page.’
Sophie could feel the colour flooding into her cheeks and was glad of the muted lights to hide her consternation. But no, she told herself fiercely. She must not imagine such things. Simon wasn’t—he couldn’t be interested in her! Surely her experience with Robert had warned her of the dangers of misinterpreting a situation.
‘I—I expect there are plenty of other girls in the village to choose from,’ she exclaimed hastily. ‘And I mean, Hereford is not far——’
‘Sophie!’ Simon’s hand had slid across the table and covered hers. ‘Stop talking nonsense. You know’ perfectly well what I mean. I’m not interested in the village girls or the Hereford girls or any other girls if it comes to that. It’s you I want, and I’m pretty sure you know it.’
‘Oh, Simon!’
Sophie withdrew her hand from under his and pressed both her hands together tightly in her lap.
Simon shrugged and lay back in his seat. ‘That’s okay. I know you don’t feel the same. But you’re too young yet to know what you want.’ He drew out a pack of cigarettes and put one between his lips. ‘I’m prepared to wait. Just don’t try to marry me off in the meantime.’
Sophie shook her head helplessly. ‘Oh, Simon,’ she said again. ‘Why did you tell me?’
