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together. “Hugh Kyle’s been. He’s just left.”
    â€œIs Tuppy worse?” Antony asked bluntly.
    â€œHe … he says she’s holding her own wonderfully. He says she’s as strong as an old heather root.” She tried to make it light-hearted, but her voice let her down woefully. She could not get out of her mind that deeply grave expression that she had caught on Hugh’s face. Had he really been telling her the truth? Had he been trying to spare her in some way? “He … he had a few words with Tuppy, though, and it seems that all she wants is to see you, and for you to bring Rose over. And I wondered if you’d heard from Rose—if she was back from America?”
    There was only silence from the other end of the line, and trying to fill it, Isobel rattled on.
    â€œI know how busy you always are, and I don’t want to worry you.…”
    â€œThat’s all right.” Antony spoke at last. “Yes. Yes, she is back in London. I had a letter from her this morning.”
    â€œIt means so much to Tuppy.”
    Another pause, and then steadily, Antony asked, “Is she going to die?”
    Isobel couldn’t help it. She dissolved into tears, furious with herself, but unable to check them. “I … I don’t know. Hugh tried to reassure me, but I’ve never seen him look so concerned. And it would be so dreadful, unthinkable really, if anything should happen to Tuppy and she had never seen you and Rose together. It meant so much to her, your getting engaged. If you could bring Rose, perhaps it would make all the difference. It would give her a reason…”
    She couldn’t go on. She hadn’t meant to say so much, and she could see nothing through the tears. She felt defeated, at the end of her tether, and as though she had been alone for too long. She blew her nose again and finished helplessly. “Do try, Antony.”
    It was a cry from the heart. He said, sounding almost as shaken as she did, “I didn’t realize…”
    â€œI think I’ve only just realized myself.”
    â€œI’ll get hold of Rose. Somehow, I’ll fix it. We’ll be over next weekend. I promise.”
    â€œOh, Antony.” Relief washed over her. They would come. If Antony said he would do something, he always kept his word, come hell or high water.
    â€œAnd don’t be too worried about Tuppy. If Hugh says she’s as tough as a heather root, she probably is. She’ll run rings round the lot of us, and most likely outlive us all.”
    Immensely comforted, Isobel raised a little laugh. “Well, it’s not beyond the bounds of possibility.”
    â€œNothing is,” said Antony. “Anything can happen. See you next weekend.”
    â€œBless you.”
    â€œThink nothing of it. And my love to Tuppy.”

2
    MARCIA
    Ronald Waring said, perhaps for the fifth time, “We should go home.”
    His daughter Flora, bemused with sun and sleepy from swimming, said, “I know,” also for the fifth time, and neither of them moved. She sat perched on a sloping face of granite, staring down into the jewel-blue depths of the immense rock pool in which they had had their evening swim. The sun, sliding down out of the sky, poured the last of its warmth onto her face. Her cheeks were still salty from the sea; wet hair clung to her neck. She sat with her arms wrapped around her legs, her chin on her knees, her eyes narrowed against the dazzle of the sea.
    It was a Wednesday, and the last of a perfect summer’s day. Or was September officially autumn? Flora couldn’t remember. She only knew that in Cornwall, the summer had a charming way of spinning itself out beyond the end of the season. Down here, sheltered by the cliffs, there was no breath of wind, and the rocks, soaked by a day’s sunshine, were still warm to the touch.
    The tide was coming in. The first trickle of water had slid