be going. Iâve a man coming to see me about some poultry feed at five.â
âThanks for meeting me, Mike. I needed to talk to someone.â
âA pleasure, always!â
We drove back in silence, and again he stopped outside the gates. He kissed me on the mouth.
âDonât worry your pretty head about the past, my love. The futureâs all that matters. See you tomorrow?â
âFine. What shall we do?â
âHow about dinner at the farm â youâve not been there yet. Derek and Sandra are coming too.â
My precarious happiness faded and my face must have shown it.
Mike said a trifle impatiently, âLook, Emily, theyâre my friends. Try to like them.â It sounded to me like an ultimatum â like them, or you kiss me goodbye. And I didnât want to do that. Theyâd a longer-standing claim on him than I had, I reminded myself, and if I wouldnât play ball on his terms, there were plenty of girls who would.
CHAPTER SEVEN
As I dressed for my date with Mike the next evening, I was determined to be good company. I would not let Derekâs suggestiveness or Sandraâs inanity get under my skin as I had on Saturday. Mike was worth the effort of being pleasant to his friends, whatever my private opinion of them.
I opened my bedroom door to come face to face with Matthew, on his way upstairs. His eyes took in the new lilac dress.
âMike again?â
âMike again.â
âWell, enjoy yourself. You make me feel old!â He nodded and went along the passage to his room.
This time, Mike was alone when he called for me.
âThe others will be along later â theyâre calling at the pub for a crate of beer.â His eyes went over me, warm, personal and admiring â quite different from Matthewâs non-committal gaze. âYou look good enough to eat!â
We drove down to the main road and turned left, away from the town. The road hugged the coast for a while and I guessed we must have come this way through the fog to the Flamingo. Now, it was a calm September evening, the sky washed with deep blue, pink and gold as though splashed by a careless paint brush. Tiny fragments of cloud trailed like purple chiffon, and the seagulls, soaring into the sunset, became birds of flame. I drew a deep breath. It was all so perfect that it hurt.
After a while the road left the coast to turn inland, passing scattered cottages and farms until we branched off it altogether up a steep, twisting lane with high hedges on either side. A wooden post announced âChapel Farm. Private Road.â
âVery imposing!â I said.
âWe have to keep the rabble out!â He drew up in front of a white, five-barred gate.
âIâll open it,â I said, and slipped out of the car. The gate swung easily and Mike edged the car through. We were in the farmyard, and I gave an involuntary exclamation of delight.
The farm buildings and the long, low house formed three sides of a square, all of them painted white, and glowing in the setting sun. In the centre of the yard was a patch of grass, smooth and emerald green, with a copper beech tree in the middle of it.
âOh Mike!â
He got out of the car and came to join me. I could see he was pleased by my delight. âYes, it is rather fine. Those are the byres and stables over there, and opposite us the pig and poultry sheds. This gate leads to the menâs cottages behind the farm house. Itâs quite a little colony, as you can see.â
âItâs lovely, and so spotless!â True enough, the cobbles underfoot looked as though theyâd been scrubbed.
ââSeven maids with seven mopsâ!â Mike laughed, taking my arm. âCome inside and meet Mrs Trehearn. Since youâre âcompanyâ weâll use the front door.â
We went through the low entrance into a tiny flagged passage. There was an oak door on either side and one straight