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nothing more than to push her fist into his jowly, frowning face.
    'I'd like to see her surgeon, this Easter fellow; he's never here when I come.'
    'Well, he doesn't actually hang about, Mr Cotton, on the off-chance of seeing relatives, but I'll certainly tell him that you'd like to see him, then I'll ring you and let you know when.'
    'That's the best you can do, is it?'
    'At this stage, I'm afraid it is.'
    He rose from the chair, hitching up his trousers which—because of his acorn shape—had a tendency to slip to his scrotal region and have to be jerked up. He was considerably older than his wife, Anna thought, probably by twenty years, Which might account for his selfish rash to beget a child. Feeling a little sorry for him—but even more sorry for his wife—she watched him huff his way into the ward, looking up and down it in an overseeing kind of way before walking along to Fay's bed.
    Weatherwise, it was a mixed sort of day—the sun blazing out one minute, rain gushing down the next. By mid-afternoon it was mostly rain and Anna began to fear for her date with Alex next day at the Collingham County Show.
    He had rung her twice during the week to confirm starting times, and to reiterate how much he was looking forward to it all. He was the kind of man, Anna decided, who didn't like anything left to chance, and she could sympathise with this for she was tidy-minded herself, liking to plan ahead and look forward—not do things all in a rush.
    It was not only raining when she went off duty at a little after four but coming down in torrents, whilst thunder—as yet far off—clattered thinly over the Channel, which was streaked with violet-blue. Stepping out of the crowded lift, she spied Simon by the exit doors amongst little knots and groups of visitors waiting to take the plunge out. He was giving every indication of making a dash for it.
    Almost involuntarily seeking his company, Anna made for the doors as well—just as one of the hall porters thrust an umbrella into his hand. 'Might as well use this, sir, it's going spare.'
    'Oh... Thanks.' As he turned he saw Anna. 'You off home?' he asked.
    'Yes, I am.'
    'Then you'd better share this; no sense in getting drenched.' The doors parted as he approached them and kept wide as she passed them as well. He had the umbrella up with one quick thrust and drew Anna under its shelter, keeping his free hand under her elbow as they set off across the yard.
    It was a large, black, enveloping umbrella and it sheltered them like a roof, withstanding the hard pelt of the rain, affording privacy and inducing a kind of intimacy too—making Anna feel protected, and cared for and warmed right through to her bones. She wouldn't have minded if her car had been two miles away; she didn't notice the splash of rain round her legs, drenching her up to her knees.
    She was oblivious to all and everything but Simon— the clasp of his hand round her arm, the brush of his thigh against her own, and the up-and-down sound of his voice as they half walked, half jogged, towards the parking lot.
    'Good thing I saw you—' his breath came in jerks '—or you'd have got very wet.'
    'An act of pure gallantry.' She was breathless too.
    'Oh, so that's what it was!' His hand tightened on her aim, but now they had reached her car. Low, yellow, gleaming and washed, it seemed to stand out with annoying signalling brilliance, as though determined not to be missed.
    As she bent to unlock it and as she swung the door open, he stood there sheltering her. All she needed to do was dip down into the driving seat, switch on the engine and say goodbye—but she did none of these things. Instead she turned round to thank him, meeting his eyes head-on for a fleeting second before he bent forward and kissed her on the lips.
    Even without his arms around her it was a very positive kiss—a link, a message, a foretaste of bliss—and its swift, meaningful pressure was alive on her mouth, like a gentle madness, as she drove