September

'Of course…'

He rose once more to his feet. 'Pandora, I must go.'

'Oh dear, what a shame.' She fixed her sandal and hopped down off the balustrade. 'Never mind, you've had time to meet my guests. We'll come and see you off.'

'Don't disturb everybody.'

'They've got to get their luggage anyway. They're dying to unpack and have a swim. Come…' She took his arm.

And so they all made their way back to where his car was waiting in the shade beneath the olive tree. Goodbyes were said, he sketched a kiss over the back of Pandora's hand, and then got in behind the wheel of the BMW.

He started up the engine, and Pandora stood back. But before he drove away, he said, 'Pandora.'

'Yes, Carlos?'

'You will let me know if you change your mind.'

She did not answer immediately, and then shook her head. 'I shan't change my mind,' she told him.

He smiled, shrugged resignedly, as though good-naturedly accepting her decision. He put the car into gear and, with a final wave, left them, driving away, through the gates, down the hill, out of sight. They stood waiting until the sound of the car could be heard no longer. Only the splash of water from that unseen fountain, the tinkle of sheep bells.

You will let me know if you change your mind.

What had Carlos been asking of Pandora? For an instant Lucilla toyed with the idea that he had been proposing marriage, but almost at once put this notion out of her head. It was too prosaic for such a sophisticated and glamorous pair. More likely, he had been trying to persuade her to join him on some romantic trip, to the Seychelles or the palm-fringed beaches of Tahiti. Or perhaps he had simply asked her out for dinner and she didn't feel like going.

Whatever, Pandora was not about to enlighten them. Carlos was gone and now she sprang into practical activity, giving a little clap with her hands. 'So. Down to business. Where's your luggage? Is that all? No suitcases or cabin trunks or hat-boxes? I take more than that if I go away for a single night. Now, come along…'

She started up the steps once more, going at a great pace, and yet again they followed her, Lucilla carrying her leather satchel, and Jeff lugging the two bulging backpacks.

'I've put you in the guest-house. You can make yourselves at home, and then be quite independent. And I'm not frightfully good in the mornings, so you'll have to get your own breakfast. The fridge is full of goodies, and there's coffee and stuff in the cupboard.' They were now back on the terrace. 'You'll be all right?'

'Of course.'

'And then I thought we'd have dinner about nine o'clock. Just something cold, because I can't cook to save my life, and Seraphina, my maid, goes home each evening. But she'll leave everything ready for us. Come over at half past eight and we'll have a drink. Now I'm going to have a little nap, so I'll leave you to find your own way and settle yourselves in. Later, I might swim before I change for dinner.'

The prospect of Pandora, dressed in an even grander outfit than the pink silk pyjamas, brought up the vexing question of clothes.

'Pandora, we haven't got anything to change into. Nearly everything's dirty. Jeff's got one clean shirt, but it hasn't been ironed.'

'Oh, darling, do you want to borrow something?'

'A clean T-shirt?'

'Of course, how stupid of me, I should have offered. Wait a moment.'

They waited. She disappeared through wide sliding glass doors into what was presumably her bedroom, and returned almost at once bearing a midnight-blue silk shirt splashed with a rocket-fall of sequins. 'Have this, it's frightfully vulgar but rather fun. You can keep it if you want, I never wear it.' She tossed it over and Lucilla caught it. 'And now, off you go and dig yourselves into your little nest. If you want anything, ring through on the house phone and Seraphina will bring it to you.' She blew a kiss. 'Half past eight. See you then.'

And she was gone, leaving Lucilla and Jeff to their own devices. But still Lucilla hesitated, savouring the anticipation of what was about to happen next.

'Jeff, I can't believe it. We've got a whole house to ourselves.'

'So what are we waiting for? If I don't get into that pool in two minutes flat, I'm going to explode.'

Lucilla went first, leading the way down the steps and along the length of the garden. The little house awaited them. They crossed the terrace and opened the door into a living-room. Curtains had been drawn, and Lucilla went to pull them back. Light streamed in and she saw the little patio on the far side, the sheltered scrap of garden.

'We've even got our own place to sunbathe!'

There was an open fireplace, stacked with logs. There were a few comfortable chairs, a tray of drinks and glasses, a coffee-table stacked neatly with magazines, and a wall shelved with books. Opening other doors, they found two double bedrooms, and a bathroom of marvellously spacious proportions.

'I think this is the nicest bedroom. It's certainly the biggest.' Jeff dumped the backpacks onto the tiled floor and Lucilla drew back more curtains. 'We can see the sea from here. Just a little scrap, a triangle, but still a view of the sea.' She opened cupboard doors, saw rows of padded hangers, smelled lavender. She put the borrowed shirt onto one of the hangers, where it hung in lonely style.

Jeff had toed off his trainers and was stripping off his T-shirt.

'You can play house as much as you like. I'm going to swim. You joining me?'

'I will in a moment.'

He departed. An instant later she heard the splash as he took his running dive, and imagined the silken bliss of the cool water. But later. Just now she wanted to explore.

On detailed inspection Pandora's guest-house proved to be quite perfectly complete, and Lucilla was filled with admiration for such meticulous thought and planning. Someone… and who else but Pandora?… had somehow thought of anything that a visitor might want or need, from fresh flowers and lovely new books right down to spare blankets for chilly nights and hot-water bottles for possibly unsettled tummies. The bathroom was supplied with every sort of soap, scent, shampoo, aftershave, body-lotion, and bath-oil. There were thick white bath towels and bath-mats, and, hanging from the back of the door, a pair of voluminous and snowy-white towelling bathrobes.

Leaving all this luxury, she crossed the sitting-room and went in search of the kitchen, and found it sparkling neat, and lined with dark wooden cupboards filled with Spanish pottery, shining saucepans, casseroles, and a complete batterie de cuisine. If one wanted- which Lucilla didn't-it would be quite possible to concoct a dinner party for ten. There were an electric cooker and a gas cooker and a dishwasher and a fridge. She opened the fridge and discovered there, along with all the fixings for a robust breakfast, two bottles of Perrier water and a bottle of champagne. A second door led out of the kitchen. She opened this and found… joy of joys… a compact laundry with clothes washer, drying-lines, an ironing-board, and an iron. The sight of these homely items gave her more satisfaction than all the other luxuries put together. Because now, at last, they could be clean.

She set to work, losing no time. Went back to the bathroom, stripped off her clothes, put on one of the towelling robes and then started in on the unpacking. Which consisted of emptying the contents of the backpacks onto the bedroom floor. At the bottom of her own backpack were her wash-bag, her brush and comb, her sketch- pad, a book or two, and the envelope from her father, which had contained his cheque, his letter, and the invitation to a dance from Verena Steynton. She took this out of the envelope and propped it on the empty dressing-table. By now it was a bit dog-eared but bestowed, she decided, a personal note to the room, as though Lucilla had put her name to it and claimed it as her own.

Lucilla Blair Mrs. Angus Steynton At Home For Katy

Why did it seem so ludicrous? She laughed. Another life, another world away. She gathered up armfuls of dirty socks, shorts, jeans, pants, and T-shirts and headed back to the laundry. Without bothering to sort any of these garments (her mother would have a fit if she could see red socks going in with white shirts, but her mother was not here to remonstrate so what did it matter?) Lucilla stuffed the open face of the washing-machine, poured in detergent, slammed the door, and switched it on. Water gushed and the drum revolved, and she stood back and observed this with as much delight as if it had been a longed-for programme on television.

Then she kicked aside the remainder of the dirty clothes, went to find her bikini, and joined Jeff in the