The Bright One

But aside from that, she must give herself more time for thought, though not about opening up in Hebghyll. She was rock-solid certain about that and could hardly wait.

‘I thought of Graham on impulse,’ she admitted to George Soames. ‘There was a problem there, and it seemed to be the solution. Now I have to think about whether it was the right one. And it’s even more important for you, George. You must be happy with the idea before I breathe a word to Graham.’

‘I don’t see any obstacles,’ George said. ‘But you’re right. It bears thinking about. Anyway, we have a week before he’s back from Ireland. Do you intend to speak to Henry Prince first, or to Graham?’

‘Henry will expect me to put him first,’ Opal said. ‘But I shan’t do so. It’s Graham’s business. It’s up to him to tell his father when he’s made his own decision.’

‘There is one thing,’ George said. ‘If we agree Graham will be suitable, and if he agrees to go to Hebghyll, he must, right from the first, be seen as my deputy as well as my assistant. He must be given the authority he’ll need for the job. He mustn’t be seen as a trainee, even though you and I know quite well that he still has a lot to learn.’

‘Certainly,’ Opal agreed. ‘And whatever extra training he needs, it will be up to you to give him. But now let’s get down to other matters. When do you think we can open, for instance? We must fix a date and work towards it.’

Two days later Opal took a call from Henry Prince. He sounded tetchy, uncomfortable. ‘I wanted to speak to Graham,’ he said, ‘but his landlady isn’t on the telephone. Well it’s Miriam, really. I thought, still think, that the whole thing is best left to simmer down for a bit, but Miriam won’t have that. She wants him to come home for the weekend, preferably without the girl, but bringing her if he must.’

Opal kept silent in the pause which followed. For a supposedly clever man Henry, with language like that, was going the wrong way about things.

‘If you can’t bring him to the telephone, which I’d quite understand,’ Henry went on, ‘then will you tell him to call me at home, Opal?’

‘I’d gladly do either of those things,’ Opal said, ‘except that I can’t. Graham has gone to Kilbally – Breda’s home. They’ll be there for the rest of the week.’

She felt a stab of shame that she’d almost taken pleasure in giving Henry the news, but they were such a bombastic couple, Henry and Miriam. Such snobs.

‘Didn’t he tell you?’ she asked.

‘He did not!’ Henry’s voice was tight with anger. ‘He tells us precious little these days. Well, just you tell him from me he’s to phone home, the quicker the better! His mother’s going to be very upset about this.’

‘I’ll pass on your message when I see him.’ Opal’s voice was cool. She put down the telephone. If Henry Prince thought he could give her orders, he was mistaken. Any. sympathy she had had for him melted away. She now felt herself firmly on Graham’s side.

‘To think I will not be present at my daughter’s wedding,’ she said. ‘’Tis a terrible sadness!’

‘And your own fault, Mammy.’ Breda’s voice was gentle, but as firm as bedrock. ‘’Tis no great journey you would be making to England. Auntie Josie has been here several times, and she that much older than you. I’m certain sure Luke would be agreeable to your coming, even if he couldn’t leave the shop.’

‘The distance is not the only reason, and you know it, Breda.’

‘I do so,’ Breda said. ‘Why wouldn’t I? Have you not told me a dozen times in this past week, even though not when Graham was present? If only I was not marrying a Protestant! Well I am, Mammy. No two ways about it. ’Twill not be the same if my own Mammy is not at my wedding, but ’twill still happen.’

Breda was glad of two things. Graham had been treated with the courtesy and politeness due to a guest, though as a guest, not as a member of the family; also, Mammy had reluctantly agreed to give her legal consent to the marriage.

It had been easier in Dublin. If either Moira or Barry had any doubts, then they didn’t show them. In fact, Moira took to Graham at once. ‘He’s quite gorgeous!’ she said. ‘Isn’t he like a film star – though no doubt he’ll be the same as all the rest once you’re married. Men are after only one thing!’

Which I long to give to Graham, Breda thought. She wondered if Moira still gave it to Barry, for there was no sign of more children, which was surely not natural. ‘You know he is not Catholic?’ she said.

Moira shrugged. ‘So what?’

‘If Mammy heard you say that she would have a fit,’ Breda said. ‘It upsets her.’

‘Well, don’t let it upset you,’ Moira said.

Those were the nearest to kind words Moira had ever spoken to her, Breda thought. She felt an unusual rush of affection for her sister.

It was different again with Kathleen, whom Breda and Graham visited on the Sunday morning. Though Kathleen knew the circumstances which made their mother so unhappy, and to which Moira was indifferent, she gave Graham the loving welcome she would have given to a brother.

‘I shall be glad when we are well and truly married,’ Breda said to Graham later. They were sitting side by side on the ferry, crossing an unusually calm Irish Sea, only the smallest ripples disturbing the smooth surface of the water.

‘And so shall I,’ Graham said. ‘And for reasons other than your mother. But don’t be too hard on her, my darling. In any case it will happen in reverse with my family. Yours doesn’t like it because I’m not a Catholic, mine will be against it because you are.’

‘Graham,’ Breda said, ‘even if we can’t be married just yet, will you come with me to see Father Delaney at St Peter’s? He’s the nicest of men. Auntie Josie thinks the world of him. He will tell us what we should do.’

Graham put his arms around her, drew her close. ‘Of course I will. Whenever you like.’

He kissed her on the lips and she struggled to free herself. ‘Everyone will be watching!’ she protested.

‘I don’t mind in the least,’ he said. ‘Nor should you.’

‘Of course!’

‘So what do you think?’ Opal asked. ‘Oh, I’m not asking you for a definite answer on the spot, you can have a day or two to decide, but obviously I’ll need to know soon. There’s a lot to be done, especially between you and Mr Soames here.’

‘I don’t need a day or two, Miss Opal,’ Graham said. ‘All I need is the answer to one question.’

‘Which is?’

‘What about Breda? Will there be a job for Breda in Hebghyll?’

Opal and George Soames exchanged smiles.

‘Mr Soames and I have already thought about that,’ Opal said. ‘In fact we’d have been surprised had you not asked the question.’

‘And . . . ?’ But he knew by the expressions on their faces that the answer was the one he wanted.

‘Breda O’Connor can go to Hebghyll if she wishes to,’ Opal said. ‘She would be part of a small display team. Of course I must interview her about the job, not you. I must make sure it’s what she wants.’

‘Oh, it will be!’ Graham interrupted. ‘She’ll look forward to it as much as I do!’ He was all eagerness, all enthusiasm. He felt lifted up by the news, as if he had come into a fortune. He saw his whole future, and not least because it included Breda, in the brightest of bright colours.

‘Nevertheless I must speak to her directly,’ Opal said. ‘And I’ll do it soon. Her appointment will be quite separate from yours. It means I shall be going away from the usual practice of not having engaged couples working in my store – though I’ve never quite believed in it. But I shall require totally professional conduct from both of you. Your personal relationship must be kept outside your work. You do understand that?’

‘Of course,’ Graham said. ‘And may I ask one more question?’

‘You may.’

‘Then what is your attitude towards married couples working for you? When we’re first married Breda will probably need to have a job.’ Miss Opal had not offered him a princely salary in the new job, nor did he expect it.

‘We’ll meet that when we come to it,’ Opal said. Privately, though the occasion had never arisen, most new brides seeming to be only too happy to stay at home and keep house, she had never been against married couples in her store, providing they acted professionally. And if they didn’t, then she didn’t want either of them.

‘In the meantime,’ she said, ‘you should spend some time with Mr Soames. I’m sure he has a lot to discuss with you. But let me warn you again, all this is confidential.’

‘Does my father know?’ Graham asked.

‘No. I had thought of telling him but I changed my mind. I think the most you can say to your father is that you’ve been offered a job here. I’d like you to do that yourself but naturally I shall speak to him, as a matter of courtesy. But not before you’ve done so.’

When Graham had left the room Opal turned to George Soames.

‘I think I’d better see Breda O’Connor as soon as possible. Graham will burst if he can’t discuss it with her!’

‘Shouldn’t you have a word with Jim Sutcliffe first?’ George suggested.

‘You’re right,’ Opal agreed. ‘I can’t go around stealing his staff from under his nose, without a word. Anyway, we shall need Jim’s co-operation on several things, and he’s discreet enough. He’s been with me since I opened here.’

Breda was summoned to Opal’s office immediately after dinner. She had not eaten her midday meal with Graham. They did so less often now that they were free to meet at other times and in other places. Now she stood just inside Miss Opal’s office, close to the door, her feet sinking into the thick carpet which was that lady’s one touch of luxury.

She had no idea why she had been sent for. Jim Sutcliffe, without a word of explanation, had simply told her to report to Miss Opal. ‘At the double!’ he’d said. It was an unusual command. Miss Opal only saw junior staff herself on more serious matters. Breda had had no contact with her since the time of the shooting.

What have I done, she asked herself, waiting for Miss Opal to finish a telephone call with her secretary. Had something gone wrong with her work during her week’s absence in Kilbally?

‘Don’t stand in the doorway, Miss O’Connor,’ Opal said. ‘Please come and sit down.’ She sounded brisk and businesslike but not in the least angry.

Over the next few minutes Breda found herself listening with almost total disbelief to what Miss Opal had to say. Wasn’t it all quite incredible, and at the same time wasn’t it the answer to all those prayers she’d said? Not that she’d ever asked for anything as specific as this. Just, ‘Dear God, make it come out all right for me and Graham.’ Well, wasn’t this more than just all right?

‘So what do you think, Miss O’Connor?’

Breda knew by the tone of Miss Opal’s voice that she was repeating the question. She jerked herself back to reality from the daydreams into which the offer had propelled her.

‘I’m sorry, Miss Opal! ’Tis wonderful, which is all I can find words to say. And if you’re after offering me the job, then I’m accepting, and thank you very much indeed, and I’ll do my very best to please. And when do I start?’

‘That’s not certain. It might not be until December, or even the beginning of January. There’s a lot to be done. Which brings me to this: you mustn’t talk about this to anyone.’

‘Not Graham?’ Breda’s face fell.

‘Of course you can discuss it with Graham, though only away from the store. And Mr Sutcliffe knows, but not many others. It might seem unnecessary to you, all this secrecy, but it’s essential for several reasons. I shall announce the whole project as soon as I reasonably can, but in the meantime you are to say nothing.’

‘Please, Miss Opal . . . what about my aunt and uncle? You see, I live with them.’

‘I’m afraid not,’ Opal said. ‘I’m sure they wouldn’t gossip intentionally, but rumour flies around the West Riding as swiftly as a bird in flight. And with a good deal less accuracy.’

Father Delaney smiled. ‘I’m sure you do! But in a case like yours and Breda’s it’s not entirely straightforward. You wouldn’t expect it to be. There are obligations to consider, questions to be asked and answered, on your part as well as mine. We have to be as sure as we can, and this is for the sake of both of you and your life together, as well as for the Church.’

‘We’ve discussed it between ourselves,’ Graham said. ‘We’re sure of ourselves.’

‘And perhaps rightly so,’ Father Delaney said. ‘We shall see. In the first place I want you both to come to see me every week for at least four weeks, and not until this marriage preparation is over, Graham, shall I ask you to make any of the promises which will be required of you. And remember that these promises are not just for you, they are for the future of your marriage, and for the children you will have.’

‘I see,’ Graham said. ‘And after that?’

‘After that, if you have made your promises, and the Bishop sees no other impediment, then he will grant you a dispensation. You will be married in the Catholic Church, though since you are not a Catholic, it can’t take place in the Mass.’

‘How long . . . ?’ Graham began.

‘Let’s say between three and six months,’ Father Delaney said. ‘It sounds a long time, but it will soon pass.’

‘I never dreamt it would take so long,’ Graham said to Breda as they walked back to Waterloo Terrace. ‘I’m ready to make the promises here and now.’

‘I know,’ Breda said. ‘But perhaps Father Delaney was right and ’twill soon pass, especially with all the changes we’ll be going through between now and then.’

‘It can’t pass quickly enough for me,’ Graham said. ‘Oh, Breda, I want you so much. I can’t tell you how much.’

‘You don’t have to,’ Breda said. ‘Aren’t I made of flesh and blood, the same as you?’

‘Though it depends on whether Miss Opal will let me have Saturday off – and Breda, of course. And we’ll have to come back on Sunday.’

‘We’d have liked you for longer,’ Henry said.

Breda was dismayed at the prospect. ‘It’s so soon!’ she objected. She had vaguely hoped that it might be put off, though she knew it would have to happen eventually.

It was late on Saturday afternoon when they reached Reigate. Tompkins was at the station to meet them. Breda had never ridden in a chauffeur-driven car in all her life, hardly ever in any car, come to that. Nevertheless she smiled at Tompkins, took a deep breath and climbed into the back as to the manner born. It was the way, she decided, she’d meet the whole weekend. She would just do her best in every situation. Less than twenty-four hours, she reminded herself, as the car sped smoothly out of the town and in a mile or two along a tree-lined country lane.

‘Here we are, darling,’ Graham said.

There were high gateposts, surmounted by stone pineapples. As they turned into the short drive, the imposing house facing them, Graham held her hand tightly. ‘Chin up!’ he said.

As the car drew up, Henry and Miriam Prince came down from the terrace to greet them. When Tompkins sprang to open the door and Graham handed her down from the car Breda felt that this must be how royalty felt, but at the same time she wished the ground would open and swallow her up.

Henry Prince approached, hand held out to Breda. Miriam Prince kissed her son warmly on both cheeks. ‘So lovely to have you home again, darling!’

‘This is Breda, Mother,’ Graham said.

Miriam Prince extended a manicured hand on which rings shone and sparkled like miniature suns.

‘How do you do, Miss O’Connor,’ she said pleasantly.

‘I’m very well, thank you,’ Breda replied. ‘I hope you are.’ And wasn’t that the wrong thing to say, she asked herself? Had she not read in the magazines Auntie Josie bought that when someone said ‘How do you do,’ they didn’t actually want to know? ‘Please call me Breda,’ she said.

‘I suppose Breda is an Irish name?’ Miriam asked. And you couldn’t say she didn’t say everything graciously and politely, Breda thought. Oh no, you couldn’t say that!

‘Sure, ’tis very common in Ireland,’ she said.

‘Now why don’t we go in and I’ll show you to your room?’ Miriam said.

She accompanied Breda up the wide staircase which ran from the centre of the hall. How wonderful, Breda thought, to have a staircase on which two people could walk side by side!

Mrs Prince took her along a corridor and around a couple of corners, then showed her into a large, prettily furnished bedroom.

‘I’ll leave you to it, then,’ she said brightly. ‘I expect you’ll want to wash. You have your own bathroom. Tea on the terrace. Come down when you’re ready.’

Breda surveyed herself from all angles in the triple mirror over the large dressing-table. She had never seen so much of herself before. Where was Graham, she wondered? She had been whisked away while he was still talking to his father, and she doubted that he’d even seen the going of her. And now his parents would have him to themselves, which was no doubt what they wanted, and was fair enough. Well, she’d be glad to leave them be for a while, and then she’d go down if ever she could find the way.

She looked out of the window. The garden was large, immaculately kept, fringed by trees. It gave way to farmland, fields of gold and brown stubble where the corn had already been harvested, and beyond that, softly rounded green hills. There was nothing of the wildness of either Kilbally or Yorkshire. It was altogether more civilized. Also, she thought, it was where she might have ended up had Graham not been offered the job in Hebghyll. She wondered what his parents would say to that bit of news.

She remained there, staring out of the window, nervous about joining the others. What could she possibly have to say to Mr and Mrs Prince? She wished Graham would fetch her.

A minute later he did so. He took her in his arms and his kisses restored her. ‘I thought you must be lost!’ he said.

‘Have I been too long? I was looking out of the window. This is a large place – but very nice,’ she added quickly.

‘It’s much too large,’ Graham said, ‘now that we’ve all flown the nest. Which reminds me, both of my brothers and their wives will be here this evening, and a few friends my mother’s invited. But don’t look so worried. I’ll stick to you like a leech.’

‘Oh, I will not worry.’ Or at least she wouldn’t show it. It was only the one evening, after all. This time tomorrow it would be over. And Graham would be with her.

He took her hand and led her downstairs to where tea was laid on the terrace.

‘Do come and sit down,’ Mrs Prince said. ‘We wondered where you’d got to, Breda.’

She poured pale golden tea from a Wedgwood teapot into exquisitely fine cups. Breda sent up a swift prayer that she wouldn’t drop one.

‘It’s getting late in the year to be sitting outside, but I do so love tea in the garden, don’t you?’ Mrs Prince asked Breda.

‘Oh, indeed I do,’ Breda replied. ‘Sure, there is nothing I like better!’

‘And what do you do in Opal’s? Graham hasn’t told us. I’ve always thought it must be most amusing to work in a shop. I tell my husband he should let me have a go.’

‘I’m in Display,’ Breda said. ‘But I used to serve behind the counter in my stepfather’s store in Kilbally. That was amusing all right!’

‘Your stepfather has a store?’

‘A village store,’ Breda said. ‘You could get the whole of it on this terrace. But there’s little he doesn’t sell. Paraffin, sugar, candles, bacon, brushes . . . ’

She stopped suddenly, aware that nervousness was making her talk too much.

‘How very interesting,’ Mrs Prince murmured.

‘It’s very much the way my grandfather started,’ Henry Prince said. ‘Only in the East End of London, not in Ireland.’

‘But a long time ago, darling,’ his wife said. ‘Would you like another cup of tea, Breda?’

‘No thank you, Mrs Prince.’ What she craved was something to eat. There was nothing, not even a biscuit. They’d had sandwiches on the train to London, but that was ages ago.

‘Has Graham told you that Hugh and David, his brothers, will be here this evening? And a few old friends of Graham’s will drop in for a drink before dinner.’ She turned and smiled at Graham. ‘Everyone’s dying to see you, darling! You’ve been very much missed.’

A chill breeze sprang up from nowhere, shaking the petals from the roses, rustling through the trees. Breda, in her thin frock, shivered.

‘You’re cold, Breda love,’ Graham cried. ‘I think we should go in.’

‘Nearly time we went up and changed,’ Miriam said, rising to her feet. ‘Your dinner jacket is hanging in your wardrobe, Graham. I had it cleaned.’

‘I’m not wearing a dinner jacket, Mother,’ Graham said. ‘Not for an evening at home. All that nonsense went out with the war.’

‘But the war’s over, darling. I do think we ought to get back to civilized standards again, don’t you?’

‘Not if it means wearing a dinner jacket for an evening at home,’ Graham persisted.

‘You’re right, my boy!’ Henry Prince said. ‘I shan’t wear mine, either.’

Miriam Prince gave a deep sigh. ‘You’re very tiresome, both of you! Oh well, we ladies will just have to make up for you!’ She gave Breda a smile.

Thank the good Lord I packed my ribbon dress, Breda thought. It would do nicely.

Graham stood up. ‘Come along, Breda. I’m going to give you a conducted tour of the house before we go up.’

‘Be sure you’re down at seven. Don’t be late,’ Miriam cautioned.

At five minutes to seven, having had a warm, scented bath, done her hair – which obligingly for once went the way she wanted it – Breda carefully applied her make-up, put on her ribbon dress, and then her precious gold chain. She took a last, critical look at herself in the mirror. Yes, she would do. She wouldn’t disgrace Graham in front of his posh friends.

Waiting now for him to collect her, she looked out of the window again. The sun was low in the sky and any minute now it would sink out of sight and dusk would fall; time to draw the curtains. Darkness came earlier than in the north, and much earlier than in Kilbally.

‘Come in!’ she called, in answer to Graham’s knock on the door. She remained standing by the window.

‘I’m looking at the view,’ she said. ‘It’s very pretty.’

‘I’d rather look at you,’ Graham said. ‘Turn around and let me see you!’

She turned around slowly and faced him. For a moment Graham looked at her, saying nothing. It was only a moment, she supposed, but it seemed a long one. She was suddenly apprehensive. ‘Will I do?’ she asked anxiously.

‘You look absolutely lovely, my darling! Oh, I wish we could just stay here, the two of us; not go down at all!’

‘And don’t I wish the same?’ Breda said. ‘Aren’t I as nervous as a cat?’

‘Come here, my love,’ Graham said. ‘I want to hold you.’

He crushed her tightly against him, kissing her with passion, his hand stroking the length of her spine, moving over the curve of her hips. She stroked the back of his neck, ran her fingers through his hair, pressed against him, desperately wanted her body to be one with his. But when he began to propel her towards the bed she suddenly resisted.

‘No Graham! No! We have to go down. I’ll crease my dress! Everyone will notice. They’ll guess!’

By the time they went downstairs the drawing room, it seemed to Breda as she stood in the doorway clutching Graham’s arm, was filled with people, all chattering like magpies. She wanted to turn and run, though she would never allow herself to do so. In any case Mrs Prince was advancing towards them. There was no escape.

The girl looked very nice, Miriam thought. She was a pleasant enough child, but not what she would have chosen to be the wife of her favourite son. ‘There you are!’ she said. ‘Everyone’s arrived. So why don’t I take Breda around, Graham, and introduce her while you catch up with your friends?’

Graham felt Breda’s pressure on his arm. ‘Thank you, Mother,’ he replied. ‘I’ll introduce Breda. She is my fiancée.’ He took Breda firmly by the elbow and they moved away.

‘My brother David, his wife Laura; my other brother Hugh and his wife Elaine.’ Graham said, breaking into a group. ‘This is my fiancée, Breda.’

There was a swift moment of silence when they first looked at her, and after that they were pleasant enough, especially Laura. Breda took to her at once. The eldest brother, Hugh, she did not care for. He was tall and supercilious, looking down at her from his great height, speaking to her, though only occasionally, in a refined drawl.

When they left his family, Graham shepherded Breda from group to group, from person to person until, it seemed to her, she must have met everyone in the room. They were nice, or not so nice, in varying degrees, though it was uncanny the way they all stopped what they were saying and gave her their rapt attention for the first moments.

Why did they do this, Breda asked herself? Why did they stare?

‘Wait just here one moment,’ Graham said, ‘while I get us both a drink. Don’t move, now!’

The minute he left, Laura Prince came up to her. ‘How are you doing, Breda?’ she asked. ‘It’s a bit of an ordeal, isn’t it?’

‘Sure, I’ve never met as many people at once in all my life, unless at a céilidh or a funeral. Like as not then I knew them all. But what I don’t understand is why they stare at me. Have I got a smut on my face, or what?’

‘No smuts,’ Laura said. ‘And you have a very beautiful face.’

‘But not beautiful enough to stop the traffic,’ Breda said. ‘So what is it? Is it the way I sound? But it can’t be, because up to now I’ve hardly said a word.’

‘In the first place it’s because you’re the girl who’s captured Graham, when some of them have been after him for ages. They’ve been curious to see you ever since they heard!’

Breda looked round. The young women were so smart in their little black dresses and pearl earrings, their hair expertly coiffured. Why have I been the fortunate one, she asked herself?

‘And in the second place,’ Laura said, ‘I think simply because you’re worth looking at; you’re so lovely! I’m sure Graham must have told you that a hundred times! As for your Irish accent – don’t apologize for it. It’s most attractive, I assure you.’

Breda was suffused in one tremendous blush. ‘I wasn’t fishing for compliments!’

‘I know,’ Laura said. ‘And your dress is beautiful.’

Graham reappeared, carrying two drinks. He noticed Breda’s heightened colour and his eyes questioned her.

‘I’ve been telling Breda how lovely she looks,’ Laura said.

He could have hugged his sister-in-law. ‘I agree with you,’ he said.

A little later, people began to leave, all except family, who were staying to dinner.

‘What a peculiar arrangement,’ Breda whispered to Graham. ‘They all come, they have two drinks, then they go home again! In Kilbally wouldn’t we all be dancing ’til midnight?’

She was, all the same, thankful that there was now to be a meal. She was starving. ‘My front’s touching my back!’ she confided to Graham. There had been dishes of cheese straws and nuts, but Graham had been so busy introducing her that she’d not had a nibble of anything. And now the second drink was going to her head and if she didn’t eat something soon she’d pass out.

The meal was good. She ate every scrap on her plate, which was probably not ladylike, but she was so hungry. After dinner they moved into the drawing room, where Mrs Prince served strong coffee in ornate cups so small that it was difficult to take a hold of the handles.

‘There!’ Mrs Prince said when they were all settled down. ‘Now wasn’t it pleasant to catch up with your friends again, Graham?’

‘Very nice,’ Graham said.

‘So when are you coming back to us, dear?’ she asked. ‘When are you going to take up your place in Prince and Harper?’

Breda put down her coffee cup on the small mahogany table beside her. She found herself gripping it so hard that she felt in danger of breaking it. This was the moment she had been dreading. She looked across at Graham, but his face was expressionless.

‘So when do you think?’ Miriam Prince repeated.

‘In fact, Mother, I won’t be working in Prince and Harper.’ Graham’s voice was cool and decisive.

Henry Prince sat bolt upright. ‘What’s that you say?’

‘I said, I shan’t be working in Prince and Harper.’

Breda looked around at the circle of faces. On Mrs Prince’s was an expression of confused disbelief. The two brothers, Breda thought, though surprised, looked not displeased, their wives non-committal. Henry Prince was flushed with a rage he made no attempt to conceal.

‘It’s this painting nonsense! That’s what it is, isn’t it? You’re all set to starve in a garret! Well, it won’t work, and when it fails, don’t come to me for help!’

‘It’s nothing to do with painting, Father,’ Graham said. ‘The truth is, Opal Carson has offered me a job, and I’ve decided to take it.’

‘Opal?’ Henry spluttered. ‘She hasn’t said a word to me! Why hasn’t she consulted me?’

‘I imagine because the job was for me,’ Graham said. ‘But she’ll be in touch with you quite soon.’

‘I should damned well hope so,’ Henry thundered. ‘So what is this job that you’ll throw up a job in Prince and Harper for it?’

‘I’m afraid I can’t give you the details just yet,’ Graham said. ‘When you speak to Opal, perhaps she will.’

‘But darling, you can’t live in Akersfield!’ Miriam sounded shocked to the core.

‘Of course I can, Mother,’ Graham said gently. ‘I’ve never been happier than in Akersfield. And it’s not the end of the world, you know. And I’m not really needed in Prince and Harper. There’s quite enough family there already.’ He looked at Breda. His smile was so warm, so loving, that she felt as though he had touched her, embraced her. It gave her the strength she needed.

‘If you’ll all excuse me,’ she said. ‘I’ll be going to bed.’

Mrs Prince’s glance implored Breda. ‘Graham will never be happy in Yorkshire,’ she said. ‘It’s not what he’s used to.’

‘I hope to make him happy, Mrs Prince,’ Breda said. She felt surprisingly calm as she stood up and made for the door. Laura Prince caught hold of her hand as she went past. ‘Good-night, Breda! I’ve enjoyed meeting you.’

‘And haven’t I enjoyed meeting you?’ Breda said. ‘And when we are married and have a place of our own,’ she added, ‘I hope you’ll come up and stay with us.’

Graham had risen to his feet at the same time as Breda.

‘I’ll also say good-night.’

‘But we have matters to discuss,’ Henry protested. ‘You’ve hardly told us anything. Why are you doing this? I’m not at all sure that I agree with it.’

‘I’m sure you will when I’m able to tell you more about it,’ Graham said. ‘You’ll realize what a good chance it is for me. So no hard feelings, Father. And now if you don’t mind, I will go to bed. It’s been a long day. I’m quite tired, and I’m sure Breda is.’

He put his arm around her and they left together.

When they reached her bedroom he went in with her and closed the door behind them.

When Graham took her in his arms, Breda lifted a troubled face to his. ‘They think it’s me! They think I’m taking you away. I’m not, am I?’

‘Let’s put it this way, sweetheart,’ Graham said. ‘Wherever you were, that’s where I’d want to be. Yorkshire or the North Pole, it wouldn’t matter!’

He pushed her onto the bed, her head against the pillows, and began to kiss and caress her. ‘Shall I tell you what I’d like to do with this dress, lovely though it is? I’d like to take it off. Please, Breda!’

She offered no resistance while he undid the buttons and pulled it from her. Resistance was beyond her now, and in no time at all she was caught up, as he was, in a frenzy of passion. She had not imagined it could be as sweet as this.

Then suddenly, with no warning at all, she pushed him away from her and sat bolt upright.

‘What in the world . . . ?’

He tried to push her down again but she would have none of it. ‘No!’ she cried. ‘Not here! Not in your parents’ house. Not the first time ever!’

She left the bed, took her dressing-gown from the hook behind the door and wrapped it around her.

‘Oh Graham, please understand!’ she begged. ‘I couldn’t do it here.’

He was white faced. She thought he was angry, but when he spoke his voice was gentle. ‘I do understand.’

‘And forgive?’

‘There’s nothing to forgive,’ Graham said.

‘I’m very tired,’ Breda said. ‘I’d like to go to bed. I’d like to go to bed with you, my darling. You know that. And one day I will. But not now. We must say good-night.’

He looked at her long and uncertainly. Then he said, ‘You don’t know how hard it is, Breda. Nevertheless, good-night.’

Breda slept fitfully, longing for Graham, and was glad when morning came. They were to leave after breakfast.

‘I hope you know what you’re doing, my boy,’ Henry Prince said grimly.

‘I think I do, Father. And I’ll keep in touch.’

At the door, Miriam Prince bade a loving farewell to Graham. Her eyes were bright with tears she would not allow herself to shed. Then she turned to Breda. ‘We must all keep in touch,’ she said. ‘Please come again. You’ll be welcome.’

‘Thank you,’ Breda said. ‘I will. And I hope you’ll come to Yorkshire.’

‘I will,’ Miriam said.

She hesitated, as if she wanted to say something and couldn’t find the words. Then she said, ‘I’m sure you’re going to make Graham happy.’