In a moment they were whispering down the drive. Helen glanced back at the towering house and the little group on the steps. Then she sank back into the padded upholstery and suppressed a sudden giggle by staring hard at the back of Hobbs’s neck.

Follies, she thought. Follies dragged me into all this, and here I am.

The car turned out of the gates by the lodge and Helen saw a man in an overall taking the shutters down from the hut beside the turnstile.

Then Montcalm was out of sight and they were on the Oxford road.

HILARY TERM

SEVEN

Chloe tapped her fingers absently on her sheaf of notes. She tensed her neck muscles to stop herself looking round again to where the EXIT sign glowed over the curtained door.

Stephen was late. He had promised to be at this rehearsal and she had rushed to the theatre, too early, in her eagerness to see him. Chloe knew that she was coming to need Stephen more and more, and the knowledge disturbed her. Shrewdly, she hid her need from Stephen himself. When she was with him she managed to stay teasingly non-committal, provocative and amusing, but it was turning into a struggle and a pretence. She wanted more of him, the security of a real place in his life, but however closely she watched him she saw no sign that Stephen wanted anything more from her than he already had.

They saw each other often enough, stealing afternoons and evenings from Stephen’s teaching schedules and, she imagined, from Beatrice. They had even, in the Christmas vacation, managed four days away together when Stephen was supposed to be at a conference. But Stephen never spoke of his wife or his children and Chloe knew that he was deliberately not admitting her to his thoughts and feelings about them. She was nagged by a sense of being on the periphery of his life, in spite of the passion of their hours together, and she was at a loss to know what to do to change that. She knew quite well that to turn demanding and possessive could be fatal. But what then?

Perhaps she should try another tack. Be less the responsive and good-company Chloe that Stephen had come to enjoy as his right. Perhaps she should make herself less available. Perhaps even needle him a little with a little healthy jealousy. Jealous? she thought. Now, who could I … Chloe stared down the aisle towards the stage. Tom Hart was standing centre front, rubbing at his black hair with the towel draped round his neck. In his grey tracksuit he looked more like a dancer or an actor than the director of the show. He had been taking his cast through a movement workout before beginning the rehearsal and he had shown himself to be fitter than any of them.