Where Earth Meets Sky by Annie Murray

myself. Now—’ He leaped energetically from the car and turned on his heel to say, ‘We dine at seven-thirty, and you’ll join us, of course. Consider yourself one of the family while you’re here, eh? Now – let’s get someone to show you your quarters.’
    Sam made sure he was dressed and ready by seven-thirty. He’d brought his Sunday suit, thanks to Helen.
    ‘They’re bound to dress for dinner,’ she’d said. ‘You’ve got to look right. And there’ll be church on Sundays.’
    He felt pretty intimidated when he first went into the house. This was how the other half lived all right! Posh was hardly an adequate word to describe it. As for his quarters, he had never slept in a room like it before, although by their standards it was probably quite simple. There was a deep red carpet on the floor, a wide bed draped in mozzie netting and an array of dark, polished furniture and a long gilt-framed mirror, all of first-class quality. On the washstand stood a pitcher decorated with pink roses, all ready, full of warm water.
    Before leaving the room he checked his appearance. The suit was quite run-of-the-mill and he wondered if he would measure up. Pulling his shoulders back he was at least reassured by his strong, manly stature. Keen as mustard, that was the impression people had. And he didn’t come across as some office- wallah , that was for sure. Sam knew he was good-looking. Smooth dark brown hair, alert grey eyes, strong brows. And he knew he was good at his job. ‘Cocky sod, isn’t he?’ he’d heard himself described at the works. But he was going places – he knew it. And he wasn’t going to be intimidated by the wealth of the Fairford mansion.
    Opening the door, he jumped, startled by a small figure peering up at him outside. The corridor was rather dark and Sam was unnerved for a moment. It must be a girl, since she had long, dark hair and was wearing a white frock. And she had some sort of doll tucked under one arm. But she stood in a strange pose, knees and feet turned out and her face was . . . well, not normal : it was partly the way she stared at him, not smiling or speaking, that was disturbing.
    ‘Izzy? Isadora!’ It was a native voice calling along the passage, high pitched and exasperated. ‘Naughty girl, where are you? Come here, now!’
    At that moment a mellow-sounding gong ran through the house and the male servant appeared to take Sam to dinner, shooing the child away.
    ‘Who was that?’ Sam asked, carefully.
    ‘Mr and Mrs Fairford’s daughter,’ the man said. ‘Her name is Isadora.’
    ‘Is she . . . well, all right?’
    ‘She is a mongol, sir.’ He spoke with a slight inclination of his head, as if to acknowledge this as a personal sorrow.
    ‘I saw another child? How many are there?’
    ‘Only Miss Isadora and Master Cosmo, Sahib. Miss Isadora stays with her ayah – Master Cosmo is undertaking his education with Miss Waters.’
    Sam immediately thought of the dark-haired woman carrying the child. ‘I see. And the boy, Cosmo. Is he . . . ?’
    The servant’s face broke into a broad smile.
    ‘Master Cosmo is perfectly all right. Oh yes, very much so, thanking God.’
    The Fairfords were already in the dining room, standing each side of a long, shining table laid with silver and glass. A heavy chandelier cast a gentle pool of light on to the table, leaving the edges of the room in shadow. Sam knew he had not imagined that as he came in the two of them stopped talking abruptly. There’d been some disagreement, it was obvious. Sam was a married man, after all: he knew the sort of thing.
    After a second’s silence, they summoned smiles to their faces, but the atmosphere was strained. Captain Fairford seemed pleased to break away.
    ‘Ironside! Found your way all right? Fancy a Scotch?’
    ‘ Darling ,’ Mrs Fairford reproached him. ‘We haven’t been introduced.’ She had one of those pure, cut-glass voices which set Sam on edge to start with. And after all,