Free The Tender Years by Anne Hampton Page A

wanted, which was undoubtedly to win Luke for her husband.
    ‘It could be a long time before Luke marries.’ Christine spoke at last, remembering what he had said concerning the possibility of his marrying—one day.
    ‘You think so?’ There was the suspicion of a sneer about Clarice’s mouth when perceived in profile. ‘Perhaps the wish is father to the thought,’ she quoted.
    ‘It’s unprofitable to discuss it,’ said Christine coolly, ‘since it’s impossible to predict just how long it will be before he gets married.’
    ‘You’re not in love with him?’
    The forthright question took Christine aback but she answered without hesitation, ‘Of course not!’
    Clarice made no comment, and after they had walked a little while longer over the moonlit sands Christine suggested they turn back. ‘Luke might finish the interview early,’ she added, ‘and so I feel we ought to get back so as not to keep him waiting.’

Chapter Five
    Arthur Mead was sitting alone at the breakfast table when Christine went along to join him. He hadn’t been too well lately and it seemed wrong for his wife to go away on holiday at this particular time.
    ‘Are you feeling any better?’ asked Christine anxiously as she sat down opposite to him.
    ‘A little.’ He smiled at her and commented on her dress, saying it was pretty and that blue suited her. ‘Is it new?’ he added. ‘I don’t remember seeing it before.’ ‘It isn’t new. I’ve had it ages.’
    ‘I’ve had a letter from Greta,’ he said a short while later. ‘She and Steve are coming over for a visit next week.’
    ‘They . . . are?’ Steve—to see him again! ‘It’s just six months since they were married,’ she recollected. ‘Seems much less than that.’
    ‘How long will they be staying?’ Christine felt her pulses racing, her heart beating much too quickly. Steve . . .
    ‘Greta didn’t say. But it’ll be for a while, I think, judging by the gist of her letter.’
    ‘Did you write to tell her you weren’t well? Is that why they’re coming?’
    He shook his head. ‘I haven’t written for over a month.’
    ‘Did she say what day they’d be over?’ Christine helped herself to toast and marmalade while Arthur poured her a cup of coffee.
    ‘She thinks Thursday, but she’ll give me a ring before then.’
    Christine was suddenly puzzled by his manner and she was impelled to ask, ‘Is something wrong, Father?’
    He was frowning, but at her words his brow cleared. ‘No—er—what makes you ask that?’ He was not looking at her and her puzzlement increased.
    ‘I don’t really know. You seem—worried, sort of.’
    He shrugged his shoulders and lapsed into silence. After a while Christine asked if Loreen would be home for Greta’s visit.
    ‘I’ve no idea. I should think she’ll be back by then.’ His tone was flat, expressionless. ‘She’s been away ten days already,’ he added as if he had been mentally reckoning up the time.
    ‘Are you going to the office today?’ Christine felt the need of company and Luke was in Nassau. Her thoughts were all on Steve and would remain so unless she had some diversion. ‘Let’s go to the beach, just you and me, and have lunch at the Fisherman’s Reef—they do those delicious small sea fish marinated in lime juice, remember? They garnish them with herbs and garlic butter.’ Her voice was low and persuasive, her big violet eyes anxiously darkened by her plea. ‘We could swim first, then soak up the sun, have lunch, and afterwards have a little drive round the island. I want to buy some plants from Hydraflora—small palms and allamandas for my balcony.’ Eager and encouraging, she forgot her manners and leant her elbows on the table, cupping her chin in her hands. ‘You work too hard, love, so please take today off.’
    ‘It would be nice,’ he agreed, but—’ To her disappointment he shook his head, ‘I’ve a lot to do—some other time, dear.’
    Her body sagged. She wished she