Free The Tender Years by Anne Hampton

dinner Luke had to leave them for an hour as he had an appointment with the manager of the hotel, so to her dismay Christine found herself alone with Luke’s friend, a situation she had hitherto managed to avoid.
    ‘Shall we go for a stroll along the beach?’ she suggested, hoping that Clarice would oblige by saying she would rather go straight up to her bedroom. But she said yes, she would like a walk along the beach.
    They had not gone far when Clarice said, nothing in her voice to betray her dislike, ‘You’re lucky to be staying on for another few days. I wish I was.’
    ‘You couldn’t manage it, you said?’
    ‘I have a job. I took these few days of my annual holiday when Luke phoned to say he was here. I’d no idea he had anyone with him.’ She turned to look at Christine. ‘He thinks a lot of you. I feel he regards you as a daughter.’
    ‘He intimated that?’
    ‘In a way,’ answered Clarice, smiling. ‘He’s talked about you at various times and that’s the impression I had—that he has a fatherly feeling for you.’
    ‘He’s always been someone I could lean on. . . .’ Christine let her voice fade to silence, regretting the confidence.
    ‘You needed someone to lean upon, then?’
    ‘Everyone needs a friend,’ was Christine’s evasive answer. ‘Luke can always be relied on to be my very good friend.’
    ‘And that’s how you feel about him . . . nothing more?’
    ‘More?’ Suddenly she was living again that intimate experience when Luke had awakened—if only temporarily—emotions she had never known before.
    ‘Well, he is more than a little attractive, isn’t he— even with that scar which sometimes—to me anyway— is scarcely noticeable.’
    ‘Nor is it noticeable to me.’ A small pause and then, ‘How long have you known Luke?’
    ‘Not long—just over four months.’
    ‘I’ve known him for seven years.’ Christine didn’t know why she said that, unless she was being faintly patronising towards the other girl.
    ‘Long enough for the friendship to have gone rather stale,’ commented Clarice with a laugh that seemed to have no humour.
    ‘Our friendship will never grow stale.’ Christine was bored with the girl and would have done anything to be able to bid her good-bye and walk away. She wanted be alone, and as the beach was deserted that would have been possible had it not been for Clarice. A long curving stretch of talcum-soft sand, with trees backing the shore to provide welcome shade during the daytime from the intensely bright rays of the sun.
    ‘You sound very optimistic,’ commented Clarice, stooping to slip off her shoes.
    ‘I feel optimistic.’
    ‘What about when Luke marries?’ Slow the words and with an undercurrent that caused Christine’s blood to feel cold all at once. Yet why should she have any fears? Luke’s manner with Clarice was surely proof enough that he wasn’t at present contemplating marriage. Moreover, he had said quite firmly that he wasn’t.
    ‘I think that we might still be very good friends,’ she said at last.
    ‘Luke’s wife might not like it. Have you thought of that?’
    ‘Yes, of course.’ Christine injected a chill note into her voice because she had no wish to continue this sort of conversation. She felt that the other girl was playing with her.
    ‘If it were I, then I’d object. Strongly.’ Clarice straightened up and they walked on, Clarice swinging her shoes by their straps. Christine looked at her with a sidelong glance. A pretty dress of flowered cotton, low in the neck and without sleeves. A white kid bag over her shoulder, a diamante comb in her chestnut hair. Most attractive, Christine grudgingly owned. It was not beyond the bounds of possibility that Luke would one day fall for all these feminine attractions—yes, no matter how perfunctory his interest at the present time. A calculated technique on Clarice’s part, and given sufficient time and ample opportunity she could succeed in getting what she