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worried about you. My father said it relieved her to know you were coming here to live.’
    ‘Oh.’ Rachel didn’t quite know what else to say. She wished Richard would go, yet she wanted him to stay.
    ‘I hope you’ll be happy here.’
    ‘I’m sure I shall.’
    He looked at her for a moment as if he was going to say something else, but a car horn sounded on the drive below. ‘That’ll be Moira,’ he said instead. ‘She has some shopping to do in Glasgow, so I’m giving her a lift.’
    He left, and Rachel sat down in the nearest armchair, weak at the knees. If Richard Duncan was going to have this effect on her each time they met life was going to prove difficult. She must pull herself together and remember that Moira McLeod had laid claim to Richard, and if he married anyone it would be her, not Melanie’s governess. She got up from her chair and went over to the window. Moira had parked her car and was just getting in beside Richard. She was wearing a beautifully cut blue trouser suit and her make-up was immaculate. As the car door closed and Richard drove off her tinkling laugh floated up to Rachel. Sadly, she turned away from the window and went to unpack her things.
    When she had done this she went to look for Melanie. She was surprised to find as she stepped outside that the day, which had begun quite bright, had become overcast and thin drizzle was beginning to fall. Surely Melanie wouldn’t be playing in the woods in such weather. Then she heard the sound of an axe from a nearby barn. Perhaps she was with Ben.
    Ben was chopping logs with a rhythmic swinging movement which made it look deceptively easy. Melanie was playing with heaps of sawdust in a far corner.
    ‘I was looking for Melanie,’ said Rachel, pretending not to have seen her. ‘I suppose you can’t tell me where she is, Ben? You see, I’ve only just moved into Kilfinan House and I’m not sure where to find anything. I thought she might be able to help me. Nobody else seems to have time.’ Rachel had decided on this approach after much thought.
    Ben grinned, catching Rachel’s idea. ‘No, I’ve not seen her, Rachel, but if you'll wait a wee while till I finish these logs I’ll be happy to come round with you myself.’
    Immediately there was a scuffling noise from the corner and Melanie came and slipped her hand into Rachel's.
    ‘Oh, there you are. I was looking all over for you.’ Rachel feigned surprise. ‘Well, there are lots of things I need to know about. Will you help me?’
    Melanie nodded. She neither smiled nor lifted her eyes. It was going to be a long, slow business getting through to the little girl, Rachel realised, but, feeling the warm little hand in her own, she had no doubt that she would win in the end.
    The day passed quickly. When Melanie had taken her to see everything in the house that Rachel could think of they went to Melanie’s playroom and did jigsaws and cut out pictures. Rachel was saddened to see the brand-new, expensive toys that lined the room, mostly unused—bought, she guessed, mostly by Alistair as a sop to his conscience.
    The rain was coming down in torrents by now and the top of the mountain was completely hidden in the thick accompanying mist. This was something that never ceased to amaze Rachel; how a huge solid bulk that was a mountain could seem to disappear so utterly and completely, just as if it had been spirited away.
    She voiced these thoughts to Melanie. All day long she had talked to the child, telling her about her home in Suffolk, about the children she had taught and the funny things they did; she told her about Rose, that she had had an accident and been taken to hospital but that they hoped she would be better before long. Occasionally she threw in a question, hoping that perhaps in an unguarded moment Melanie might forget herself and answer. But she didn’t. A nod or brief shake of the head was the only indication that she had even heard what had been said to her.
    Patience,