triumphant, and it changed from amber to brightest purest white like the

sparkle from a paragon diamond, then it turned to the blue of sunlight

on a tropical ocean, to soft forest greens and desert golds, an endless

cavalcade of colours, changing, blending, fading, flaring in splendour

that held her captive.

Then the colours took shape, they spun like mighty Catherine wheels, and

soared and exploded, showered down in rivers of flame that burst again

into fresh cascades of light.

She was appalled by the dimensions of shape and colour that engulfed

her, bewildered by the beauty of it and at last she could bear it no

longer in silence and she cried out.

Instantly there was a hand in hers, a strong hard familiar hand, and his

voice, dearly beloved, reassuring and firm.

David, she cried with relief.

Quietly, my darling.  You must rest.

David.  David.  She heard the sob in her own voice as new torrents of

colour poured over her, insupportable in their richness and variety,

overwhelming in their depth and range.

I'm here, my darling.  I'm here.  What's happening to me, David? What's

happening?  'You are all right.  The operation was a success.  You are

just fine.

Colours, she cried.  Filling my whole head.  I've never known it like

this.  It's the result of the operation.  It shows that it was a

success.  They removed the growth.  'I'm frightened, David.  'No, my

darling.  There is nothing to be afraid of Hold me, David.  Hold me

safe.  And in the circle of his arms the fear abated, and slowly she

learned to ride the oceanic waves and washes of colour, came gradually

to accept and then at last to look upon them with wonder and with

intense pleasure.

It's beautiful, David.  I'm not frightened any more, not with you

holding me.  It's wonderful.  'Tell me what you see, he said.  I

couldn't.  It's impossible.  I couldn't find the words.  'Try!

he said.

David was alone in the suite, and it was after midnight when the call

that he had placed to New York came through.

This is Robert Dugan, to whom am I speaking?  Bobby's voice was crisp

and businesslike.  It's David Morgan.  'Who?  'Debra Mordecai's husband.

Well, hello there, David.  The agent's voice changed, becoming

expansive.  It's sure nice to talk to you.  How is Debra?  It was

obvious that Dugan's interest in David began and ended with his wife.

That's why I am calling.  She's had an operation and she's in hospital

at the moment.  'God!  Not serious, is it?  She's going to be fine.

She'll be up in a few days and ready for work in a couple of weeks.

'Glad to hear it, David.  That's great.  Loo ere, I want you to go ahead

and set up that script-writing contract for A Place of Our Own.  'She's

going to do it?

Dugan's pleasure carried six thousand miles with no diminution.  She'll

do it now.  'That's wonderful news, David.  'Write her a good contract.

Depend on it, boyo.  That little girl of yours is a hot property.

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