his rescue of Samantha Silver from the icy seas of Antarctica.
Peter's eyes grew enormous as he listened, never leaving her face except
to demand of Nicholas, Is that true, Dad? And when the story was told,
he was silent for a long moment before announcing, I'm going to be a tug
captain when I'm big. Then he showed Samantha how to spread strawberry
jam on her muffins in the correct way, and chewing together heartily
with cream on their lips the two of them became fast friends, and
Nicholas joined their chatter more easily, smiling his thanks to
Samantha and reaching under the table to squeeze her hand.
He had to end it at last. Listen, Peter, if we are to make Lynwood by
five -'and the boy sobered instantly.
Dad, couldn't you telephone Mother? She might just let me spend the
weekend in London with you., I already tried that. Nick shook his head.
It didn't work,, and Peter stood up, his feeling choked by an expression
of stoic resignation.
From the back of Nick's Mercedes 450 Coupe the boy leaned forward into
the space between the two bucket seats, and the three of them were very
close in the snug interior of the speeding car, their laughter that of
old friends.
It was almost dark when Nicholas turned in through Lynwood's stone
gateway, and he glanced at the luminous dial of his Rolex. We'll just
make it. The drive climbed the hill in a series of broad even curves
through the carefully tended woods, and the three-storied Georgian
country house on the crest was ablaze with light in every window.
Nick never came here without that strange hollow feeling in the bottom
of his stomach. Once this had been his home, every room, every acre of
the grounds had its memories, and now, as he parked under the white
colummed portico, they came crowding back.
I have finished the model Spitfire you sent me for Christmas, Dad. Peter
was playing desperately for time now.
Won't you come up and see it? I don't think so - Nicholas began, and
Peter blurted out before he could finish.
It's all right, Uncle Duncan won't be here. He always comes down late
from London on Friday nights, and his Rolls isn't in the garage yet.
Then, in a tone that tore at Nick like thorns, Please.. . won't see you
again until Easter. Go/ said Samantha. I'll wait here. And Peter
turned on her, You come too, Sam, please. Samantha felt herself
infected by that fatal curiosity, the desire to see, to know more of
Nick's past life; she knew he was going to demur further, but she
forestalled him, slipping quickly out of the Mercedes.
Okay, Pete, let's go. Nick must follow them up the broad steps to the
double oaken doors, and he felt himself carried along on a tide of
events over which he had no control. It was a sensation that he never
relished.
In the entrance hall Samantha looked around her quickly, feeling herself
overcome by awe. It was so grand, there was no other word to describe
the house. The stair way reached up the full height of the three
storeys, and the broad staircase was in white marble with a marble
balustrade, while on each side of the hall, glass doors opened on to
