September

enterprise and a lot of determination.'

'And a lot of money.'

'Archie'-she spoke quite crossly-'whether you have one leg or two, you can't just shed responsibility.'

'Are you speaking from experience?'

'Touche.' Pandora laughed and shook her head. 'No. I'm the last to preach. Just talking off the top of my head.' Abruptly, she abandoned the argument, yawned and stretched, reached upwards, spreading her fingers. 'I'm tired. I came to say good night. I'm going to bed.'

'I hope you have sweet dreams.'

'What about you?'

'I want to get this finished and done with. Then, every spare moment I have I shall be able to spend with you.'

'Dear man.' On her feet, she stooped to kiss him. 'I'm glad I came home.'

'Me too.'

She went to the door, opened it, hesitated, and turned back.

'Archie?'

'What is it?'

'I've often wondered. Did you get that letter I sent you in Berlin?'

'Yes.'

'You never replied.'

'By the time I'd decided what I was going to say, you'd gone to America and it was too late.'

'Did you tell Isobel?'

'No.'

'Did you… speak to anybody?'

'No.'

'I see.' She smiled. 'The Airds are coming for lunch tomorrow.'

'I know. I asked them.'

'Good night, Archie.'

'Good night.'

The evening slipped into night. The house settled as the momentum of another busy day wound itself down. Hamish watched television for a bit and then made his way upstairs. Isobel, in the kitchen, laid the table for breakfast-the last chore of the day-and then let the dogs out for their last sniff around the dark garden, alert for scents of marauding rabbit. Lights were turned off, and she too headed for bed. Later still Jeff and Lucilla returned from the village. They let themselves in through the back door. Archie heard their voices above him in the hall. And then silence.

Past midnight, and he was finally finished. Another day and the enamel would be dry. He tidied up, put lids on small paint-pots, cleaned his brushes, turned off the light and closed the door. Slowly he made his way down the shadowy passage and up the stairs to do his nightly rounds, which he called putting the house to bed. He checked locks on doors and snibs on windows, fire-guards and electrical plugs. In the kitchen, he found the dogs asleep. He filled a tumbler with water and drank it. Finally he trod up the stairs.

But he did not go immediately to his own bedroom. Instead he walked down the passage and saw the shaft of light, still burning, beneath the door of Lucilla's room. He tapped and opened the door and found her in bed, reading by lamplight.

'Lucilla.'

She looked up, marked her page and laid her book aside. 'I thought you'd gone to bed hours ago.'

'No. I've been working.' He came to sit on the edge of her bed. 'Did you have a good evening?'

'Yes, it was fun. Toddy Buchanan in his usual good form.'

'I wanted to say good night, and I wanted to say thank you.'

'What for?'

'Coming home. Bringing Pandora.'

His hand lay on her eiderdown. She laid her own on top of it. Isobel's night-gowns were white lawn trimmed with lace, but Lucilla slept in a green T-shirt with 'Save the Rain Forests' printed across the chest. Her long dark hair was spread like silk on her pillow, and he was filled with love for her.

'You're not disappointed?' she asked him.

'Why should I be disappointed?'

'Often when you've looked forward to something for years, you feel a bit let down when it actually happens.'

'I don't feel let down.'

'She is beautiful.'

'But dreadfully thin, don't you think?'

'I know. There's nothing of her. But she's so hyper that she burns everything up.'

'What do you mean?'

'Just that. She sleeps a lot, but when she's awake she's charging on every cylinder. Super-charging, 1 would say. Being with her all the time is really quite exhausting. And then she passes out as though sleep is the only thing that's going to top up her batteries.'

'She was always like that. Mrs. Harris used to say, 'That Pandora. Either up in the clouds or doon in the midden.' '

'Manic-depressive.'

'Surely not as bad as that.'

'Tending that way.'

He frowned. And then asked the question that had been niggling around at the back of his mind all evening. 'You don't think she's on drugs?'

'Oh, Dad.'

He immediately wished that he had not mentioned his fears. 'I only ask you because I imagine you know more about these things than I do.'

'She's certainly not a junkie. But perhaps she does take something to bubble her along. A lot of people do.'

'But she's not addicted?'

'Oh, Dad, I don't know. But worrying about Pandora isn't going to do any good. You've just got to accept her for what she is. The person she's turned into. Have fun with her. Lots of laughs.'

'In Majorca… do you think she's happy?'

'She seems to be. And why not? A heavenly house, a garden, a pool, lots of money…'

'Does she have friends?'

'She has Seraphina and Mario, who take care of her…'

'That wasn't what I meant.'

'I know. No, we didn't meet her friends, so I don't know if she has any or not. We didn't really meet anybody. Except one man. He was there the day we arrived, but after that we never saw him again.'

'I thought she would have a resident lover.'

'I think probably he was her lover and the reason he didn't come back was because we were there.' He said nothing to this, and Lucilla smiled. 'It's a different world out there, Dad.'

'I know that. I know.'

She put her arms around his neck and pulled him down and kissed him. She said, 'You mustn't worry.'

'I won't.'

'Good night, Dad.'

'Good night, my darling. God bless you.'

5