September

dignified old wreck of a book. Found a lustre cream jug, and wiped the dust from it, searching for chips or cracks. There were none.

She was joined by Dermot, finished with his telephone call.

'Hello, my dear.'

'Dermot. Hello.'

'Looking for something in particular?'

'A present for Katy Steynton.' She held up the lustre jug. 'This is sweet.'

'It's a pet, isn't it? The Garden of Eden. I love that dark gentian blue.' He was a rotund, smooth-faced man of mature years, but strangely ageless. His cheeks were pink, and his fluffy pale hair airy as dandelion down. He wore a faded green corduroy jacket, much adorned with drooping poachers' pockets, and had a red-spotted kerchief tied in a jaunty knot around his neck. 'You're the second person I've had in today looking for something for Katy.'

'Who else has been here?'

'Pandora Blair. Popped in this morning. Lovely to see her again. Couldn't believe it when she walked through the door. Just like old times. And after all these years!'

'We had lunch at Croy yesterday.' Virginia thought about yesterday, and knew that it had been a good day, the sort they would all remember when they were old and there was nothing much left to do but reminisce. It was the time when Pandora came home from Majorca, and Lucilla was there and some young Australian. Can't remember his name. And we played croquet. And Edmund and Pandora sat in the swing seat, and Pandora went to sleep, and we all teased Edmund for being such a boring companion. 'That's the first time I'd met Pandora.'

'Of course. Amazing. How the years fly by.'

'What did she buy for Katy? I mustn't get the same.'

'A lamp. Chinese porcelain, and I'd made the shade for it myself. White silk, lined in palest pink. Then we had a cup of coffee and caught up on all the news. She was ever so sad when I told her about Terence.'

'I'm sure.' Virginia was afraid that Dermot's eyes were about to swim with tears, and went on hurriedly, 'Dermot, I think I'll have this jug. Katy can use it either for cream or flowers, yet it's pretty enough on its own.'

'Don't think you could find anything nicer. But stay for a bit. Have a snoop around…'

'I'd love to, but I'm taking the dogs for a walk. I'll pick the jug up on my way home, and write you a cheque for it then.'

'Righty ho.' He took the jug from her and led the devious way back towards the door. 'Are you going to Vi's picnic on Thursday?'

'Yes. Alexa will be there too. She's bringing a friend up for the dance.'

'Oh, lovely. Haven't seen Alexa for months. I'm going to see if I can get someone to mind the shop for me that day. If I can't, I'll shut it up. Wouldn't miss Vi's picnic for anything.'

'I hope it's a good day.'

They emerged and stepped out into the sunshine. The dogs, spying them, wheaked blissfully and leaped to their feet, tangling the leads. 'How's Edmund?' asked Dermot.

'On his way to New York.'

'I don't believe it! What a thing! I wouldn't have his job for all the tea in China.'

'Don't waste your sympathy. He loves it.'

She rescued the dogs, waved goodbye to Dermot, walked on, leaving the last straggling cottages of Strathcroy behind her. Another half mile and she had come to the bridge that spanned the river at the west end of the village. The bridge was ancient, steeply humpbacked, and once used by cattle-drovers. On the far side, a winding, tree- shaded lane followed the convolutions of the river, and led the way back to Balnaid.

On the crest of the bridge she paused to loosen the dogs and let them run free. They shot off at once, noses enticed by the smell of rabbits, to plunge into a thicket of bracken and brambles. Every now and then, as though to prove they were not wasting their time, they made hunting calls, or bounced high out of the tall bracken, with ears flying like furry wings.

Virginia let them go. They were Edmund's gun dogs, patiently trained, intelligent and obedient. A single whistle and they would return to her. The old bridge was a pleasant spot to loiter. The stone wall felt warm in the sunshine, and she leaned her arms on this and gazed downwards at the flowing peat-brown water. Sometimes she and Henry played Pooh-sticks from this bridge, flinging sticks upstream and then racing back to watch for the first, the winning stick, to appear. Sometimes the sticks never did appear, having been caught up in some unseen obstruction.

Like Edmund.

Alone, with only the river for company, she felt strong enough to think about Edmund, by now probably winging his way over the Atlantic towards New York, drawn, as though by a magnet, away from his wife and his son, just at a time when he was most needed at home. The magnet was his work, and right now Virginia felt as jealous and resentful and lonely as if he were gone to keep an assignation with a mistress.

Which was strange because she had never been jealous of other women, never tortured herself with imaginings of infidelity during the long periods when Edmund was away from her, in far-flung cities on the other side of the world. Once, teasing, she had told him that she didn't care what he did, provided she wasn't expected to watch. All that mattered was that he always came home. But today, she had slammed down the telephone receiver and never said goodbye, and then forgotten, until too late, to give Henry his father's message. Experiencing a twinge of guilt, she gathered her hurt feelings about her. It's his own fault. Let him brood. Perhaps another time he'll-

'Out for a walk, are you?'

The voice came from nowhere. Virginia thought, oh, God, let a few seconds pass, and then slowly turned. Lottie stood only a few feet away. She had come up the slope of the bridge from the village, the way that Virginia had, soft-footed, unheard. Had she seen Virginia in the street, watching from Edie's window, reached for her horrible beret, her green cardigan, and followed? Had she been waiting while Virginia was with Dermot, ducking out of sight and then dogging

Virginia's footsteps, always just out of earshot? The very idea was spooky. What did she want? Why could she not leave people alone? And why, beyond Virginia's irritation, lurked, like a ghost, a sense of presentiment, a foreboding of fear?

Ridiculous. She pulled herself together. Imagination. It was only Edie's cousin, avid for company. With some effort, Virginia put a friendly expression on her face. 'What are you doing here, Lottie?'

'Fresh air belongs to everybody, I always say. Looking at the water?' She moved to Virginia's side, to lean over the wall as she had been doing. But she was not as tall as Virginia and had to stand tiptoe, and crane her neck. 'Seen any fish?'

'I wasn't looking for fish.'

'Been to Mr. Honeycombe's, haven't you? Lot of rubbish he's got in there. Most of it only fit for a bonfire. But then, there's no accounting for tastes. And as for what I'm doing, I'm out for a walk, same as you. On your own, Edie tells me over dinner. Edmund gone to America.'

'Just for a few days.'

'That's not so nice. On business, is he?'

'He wouldn't go for any other reason.'

'Oh, ho, ho, that's what you think. Saw Pandora Blair this morning. Thin, isn't she? Like a scarecrow. And that hair! Looks like dyed to me. Called out to her but she didn't see me. Had dark glasses on. Could have had a good old chin-wag about the old days. I was up at Croy, you know, resident housemaid. Old Lady Balmerino then. She was a lovely lady. Felt sorry for her, with a daughter no better than she should be. That was the time of the wedding. Lord and Lady Balmerino, but they were Archie and Isobel then. There was a dance at Croy the evening of the wedding. What a work. So many people staying you couldn't turn round. Course, Mrs. Harris was cook, old Lady Balmerino didn't have to cook. There were some fine goings-on, but no doubt you've been told.'

'Yes,' said Virginia, and tried to think of some way in which she could escape this unwelcome flood of words.

'Scarcely out of school she was, Pandora, but she knew a thing or two, I can tell you. Men. She'd eat them for breakfast, and leave them chewed. A right wee whore.'

She was smiling, her tones inconsequent and chatty, almost approving, so that the archaic word caught Virginia