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Saturday there were not many people in the canteen. Most of the clientele came in the afternoons and evenings. A blonde girl came in and glanced round at the empty tables. Then she spotted Derek, and came towards them, swaying her hips.
    'Hi!' she said languidly. 'The place seems deserted. May I join you?'
    'Of course, if you want to,' Derek was reluctant but polite. 'How come you're on your own, Thomasina?'
    The girl laughed affectedly.
    'He didn't show up, the rotten heel,' she said scathingly. 'He'll get a bomb when he does appear. I don't like being stood up.'
    'Who does?' Sonya murmured sympathetically.
    Thomasina regarded her sourly.
    'No one with an ounce of savvy would ever stand you up,' she said nastily. 'Not with that rich father. Heiresses don't grow on every gooseberry bush.'
    She gave Derek a meaning look as if that accounted for his devotion to Sonya.
    Sonya flushed. She admired Thomasina Reed, who was considered the club beauty. She had looks and sophistication, being a vivacious blonde with a very white skin, round blue-grey eyes and a mass of golden hair, though gold was not its natural hue. She was tall and slim and curved in the right places. It pained Sonya that Thomasina was so inimical towards her, not realising she was jealous. The blonde had taken up skating because being a model girl, she foresaw the time when fashion shows might be given on ice. She could have been really good if she had not been too lazy to apply herself, but she resented what everyone knew, that Sonya was being groomed for stardom, believing she could surpass her if she had the same opportunities. She had no use for other girls, and had only joined them because Derek was the only presentable male in the room.
    'I wouldn't know,' Sonya said placatingly. 'You see, I never make dates.'
    She glanced at Derek for she had been forced to refuse all invitations from him for evening entertainments owing to her father's edict.
    The round blue eyes stared at her. 'You can't be human,' Thomasina observed, and turned to give her order to the waitress. 'Just coffee and a salad,' she told her, 'I have to preserve my figure.' Her glance returned to Sonya, who was eating a meringue. 'Some girls are lucky. If I ate that...' She shrugged expressively.
    'Sonya burns up calories with hard work,' Derek told her.
    'Slavery,' Thomasina declared. 'Thank God I don't aspire to be a champion. And talking of champions, do you know who's going to be here tonight?'
    'Sven Petersen,' Sonya said promptly.
    'Oh, who told you?' Thomasina looked disappointed at having her news forestalled.
    'Jan van Goort.'
    'Of course he would be in the know. What a shame you can't stay to watch him. You'll have to go home, won't you?'
    'Yes, but I don't mind.'
    Sonya had reason to dislike the name of Sven Petersen. At the early age of sixteen, with his sister Ingrid, he had electrified the skating world by winning the figure skating event at the Winter Olympics for the best competing pair. For two seasons this phenomenal couple had been considered invincible, then Ingrid vanished from the scene, but her brother continued on his own to become the finest solo skater in the world. Eliot Vincent had consistently rammed his triumphs down her throat. What Sven could do she, with her unique heritage, should be able to emulate. But at sixteen she was still struggling to master the 'school' figures. 'Late developer,' Jan had sought to excuse her, and Eliot was somewhat placated when she eventually reached championship status. She knew her father intended her to make her debut at the Canadian figure skating international next spring, and with his prestige and Jan's recommendation, for Jan was a much esteemed coach, she would probably be accepted, but if he expected a repeat of Sven's triumph, Sonya knew he was going to be bitterly disappointed.
    'I expect you've often seen him on television,' Derek remarked.
    'Well ... er ... not often,' Sonya said evasively, unwilling to have to confess