Meyhew?'
'Once,' Marion said briefly. 'At a party given by a friend. . . We've so much news to catch up on,' she added unguardedly and, she knew, indiscreetly.
'My life has no news ,' Irene said wanly. 'Nothing's happened since we last saw you—only Adam.' She added, 'We call him Adam and he often comes here. I don't like some of the things he says, but I like him,' she repeated. 'Emma likes him, too,' she rushed on and gave a little laugh, 'but she wouldn't admit it.'
Marion was not unaware of the innuendo, but said easily, 'I think everyone likes him. . . Now, is there anything special I can do today?'
'Emma isn't going out for the whole day ,' Irene insisted. 'Ethel's husband is ill,' she explained, almost as though she would prefer the much-valued daily helper to keep her company, 'or she would have '
She stopped, embarrassed. Marion had been so good, so supportive, since the tragedy and given up much of her time until recently, that Irene seemed to be spurning her now, knowing that, deep down, she was afraid Marion would be instrumental in Emma's going back to spasmodic work, the thought of which was anathema to her.
Marion was very intuitive and understanding, and the implication of Irene's words was not lost on her. She rightly gauged the situation and Irene's reactions to it.
'Emma,' she said easily, 'can be as long as she likes. I'm free all day.'
Emma experienced a heavy, sick sensation in her stomach and a feeling of acute loneliness overwhelmed her, the realisation that recently she had become isolated from former friends who, while they telephoned sympathetically, had stopped visiting because Irene shrank from their presence and made them aware that there was no longer room for them in her world. Emma resented facing this fact, particularly as it gave weight to all that Adam had emphasised about the situation and proved the truth of his words. She knew also that while absence in no way endangered the bonds of friendship, this enforced schism withered it, leaving it with nothing on which to thrive because it was, in effect, discarded. But she said deliberately, risking repercussions, 'Then I might look in on Emily. It's months——'
Irene let out a little whimper, 'Emily talks about things that ' She stopped, arrested by Emma's firm expression. Emily was a nurse, and a special friend of Emma's.
'You will not be there to hear her,' Emma said quietly. 'She hasn't visited us for months.'
Tears gushed to Irene's eyes.
'I wish people didn't make me feel so—so dreadful, bringing back the memories of when we were all together. . . Anyway,' she added sharply, 'she's so often away on cases.'
Marion put in, wishing to avoid any emotional build-up, 'If you see her, give her my love.' Marion had always been in the Sinclair circle and felt deeply about Emma and Irene, seeing the whole picture in perspective and realising how untenable was Emma's position in particular. It struck her that Irene had deteriorated and was in a highly nervous state where compromise would be impossible. And she was not oblivious of the atmosphere that Dr Templar's name had created, or Emma's defensive attitude. She asked herself if an attractive man like Dr Templar could not prove to be a disruptive influence in the circumstances, rather than a soothing doctor. . .
Having parked the car, Emma went straight to Caley's in the High Street where, to her amazement, she saw Adam and a slim attractive woman standing in the entrance. A strange sensation passed over her. Surprise, conjecture and the immediate assessment that the two of them were very friendly. Obviously, she told herself, Adam must know a considerable number of women, but this one in particular, smiling broadly and looking very smart, conveyed a note of intimacy that negatived the ordinary patient.
Her first, and somewhat absurd, instinct was to hurry away unseen, not wanting any interruptions, but even as she prepared to slip away, Adam cried, 'Emma!' He gave her name
'Once,' Marion said briefly. 'At a party given by a friend. . . We've so much news to catch up on,' she added unguardedly and, she knew, indiscreetly.
'My life has no news ,' Irene said wanly. 'Nothing's happened since we last saw you—only Adam.' She added, 'We call him Adam and he often comes here. I don't like some of the things he says, but I like him,' she repeated. 'Emma likes him, too,' she rushed on and gave a little laugh, 'but she wouldn't admit it.'
Marion was not unaware of the innuendo, but said easily, 'I think everyone likes him. . . Now, is there anything special I can do today?'
'Emma isn't going out for the whole day ,' Irene insisted. 'Ethel's husband is ill,' she explained, almost as though she would prefer the much-valued daily helper to keep her company, 'or she would have '
She stopped, embarrassed. Marion had been so good, so supportive, since the tragedy and given up much of her time until recently, that Irene seemed to be spurning her now, knowing that, deep down, she was afraid Marion would be instrumental in Emma's going back to spasmodic work, the thought of which was anathema to her.
Marion was very intuitive and understanding, and the implication of Irene's words was not lost on her. She rightly gauged the situation and Irene's reactions to it.
'Emma,' she said easily, 'can be as long as she likes. I'm free all day.'
Emma experienced a heavy, sick sensation in her stomach and a feeling of acute loneliness overwhelmed her, the realisation that recently she had become isolated from former friends who, while they telephoned sympathetically, had stopped visiting because Irene shrank from their presence and made them aware that there was no longer room for them in her world. Emma resented facing this fact, particularly as it gave weight to all that Adam had emphasised about the situation and proved the truth of his words. She knew also that while absence in no way endangered the bonds of friendship, this enforced schism withered it, leaving it with nothing on which to thrive because it was, in effect, discarded. But she said deliberately, risking repercussions, 'Then I might look in on Emily. It's months——'
Irene let out a little whimper, 'Emily talks about things that ' She stopped, arrested by Emma's firm expression. Emily was a nurse, and a special friend of Emma's.
'You will not be there to hear her,' Emma said quietly. 'She hasn't visited us for months.'
Tears gushed to Irene's eyes.
'I wish people didn't make me feel so—so dreadful, bringing back the memories of when we were all together. . . Anyway,' she added sharply, 'she's so often away on cases.'
Marion put in, wishing to avoid any emotional build-up, 'If you see her, give her my love.' Marion had always been in the Sinclair circle and felt deeply about Emma and Irene, seeing the whole picture in perspective and realising how untenable was Emma's position in particular. It struck her that Irene had deteriorated and was in a highly nervous state where compromise would be impossible. And she was not oblivious of the atmosphere that Dr Templar's name had created, or Emma's defensive attitude. She asked herself if an attractive man like Dr Templar could not prove to be a disruptive influence in the circumstances, rather than a soothing doctor. . .
Having parked the car, Emma went straight to Caley's in the High Street where, to her amazement, she saw Adam and a slim attractive woman standing in the entrance. A strange sensation passed over her. Surprise, conjecture and the immediate assessment that the two of them were very friendly. Obviously, she told herself, Adam must know a considerable number of women, but this one in particular, smiling broadly and looking very smart, conveyed a note of intimacy that negatived the ordinary patient.
Her first, and somewhat absurd, instinct was to hurry away unseen, not wanting any interruptions, but even as she prepared to slip away, Adam cried, 'Emma!' He gave her name
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