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little white Mini.
    She bought two of Duncan Keld’s paperbacks on her way home. She never had read any of his books, but she had seen some of the TV adaptations and he could tell a story. The characters lived and the action raced, she would give him that, and if the weather stayed this cold she would be sitting by the hotel fire rather than wandering around the streets and lanes of the small town. She would need some reading matter.
    She had missed the post this morning. Sometimes it arrived just before she left, often afterwards, and there was an airmail from her mother lying on the mat when she opened the door. She turned on a bar of the electric fire, and sat down in front of it to read her letter. Everything was all right. Her mother was leading the pleasant life that suited her, and described a few outings and a new silk suit she had bought the day before she wrote the letter. She sent her love, and the love of Pattie’s stepfather. ‘And give my love to Michael,' wrote Pattie’s mother, who had spoken to Michael on the phone and learned about him through Pattie’s letters. ‘And when are you going to get around to thinking about marrying him, because he sounds just perfect for you. So don’t let him get away.’
    Her mother would like her married. She and her husband would fly over for the ceremony, although he was a busy doctor, and the ones who hadn’t met her before would be astonished when they saw Pattie’s mother. ‘She’s got to be your sister,’ they’d say. She did look young, but she didn’t look like Pattie. Michael was the one who looked like Pattie, and one day soon they were going to think about getting married. They had discussed it. He hadn’t proposed exactly, but they talked about a future together, and he had dropped hints about Pattie having an engagement ring for her birthday at the beginning of May'
    It was the end of January now and if Michael did produce a ring she supposed she would accept it. She packed her mother’s letter, not to show Michael but to answer during the next few days, and then the clothes she would need for her little holiday. Packing didn’t take long. Her clothes were always bandbox fresh, and she rang the paper shop to cancel her paper, and switched off switches, then got out of London on to the M40 heading for Gloucestershire.
    At this time of year she was sure she would be able to book into the hotel where Michael was staying. He might have booked for her anyway, he’d thought there was a chance she~ might come. She would be arriving several hours late but before dinner, so that should be all right, and she found the hotel without having to ask directions, in the main road opposite the church.
    She didn’t know why she didn’t mention Michael’s name. She had meant to ask, ‘Has Mr Ames arrived?’ He should have done, unless he’d called on a client first, but instead she asked, ‘Have you a single room?’ and booked herself in, signing the register several lines beneath Michael’s neat sloping writing.
    The single room was warm, impersonal but adequate, and Pattie unpacked and changed into a dress in soft blue jersey. She wore very small pearl ear-studs and a medallion on a long chain. The surround of white onyx was inset with gold filigree and Chinese symbols representing health and happiness. All her jewellery was genuine, and usually small and neat, but this medallion was her favourite. She would have traded all the rest in for this. It was the only piece that really mattered.
    She would go down to the lounge fifteen minutes or so before dinner and see if Michael was there. He would be pleased to see her. If he was late she would try to get a table in the restaurant where she could watch the door, and she smiled and told herself what fun the surprise would be. That was why she hadn’t identified herself, because she wanted to surprise him. ‘Serve you right,’ Roz would have said, ‘if he’s brought another woman,’ but Pattie had no