They ate a quiet, simple supper in the oak dining room. Mrs Maitland served it, correct and non-committal, and Helen kept her clenched fist out of sight in her pocket.

After their meal they sat over their coffee in Darcy’s little sitting room. The silences between them were beginning to draw out. ‘Helen,’ he said at last, ‘will you stay here with me tonight?’

She drew her breath in. She knew it was coming. Part of herself wanted to go to him, giving herself as the least she could offer in return for his wholeheartedness. But another, stronger part clamoured for time, and for a chance to think.

She said, gently, with her forehead against his and her eyes lowered, ‘I’d like to wait a little. Will you mind that?’

He smiled, but his face was wistful. ‘As long as you want. Until we’re married, if you need it to be like that between us.’

Unspoken, but acknowledged between them just the same, was the fact that she had slept with his brother.

He doesn’t deserve this, Helen thought, watching the tiny muscles move in his face, and his hands as they stroked hers. He’s good, and generous, and I’m not.

‘When will we be married?’ he asked.

‘After my Schools.’ She heard herself almost gabbling with anxiety. ‘When I’ve done my exams. Need we make any plans before then? It’s been three years of hard work you see, and I want to give them all my attention. Then after that …’

‘Of course. Of course you must do the exams first. Do you think I can’t wait until June? I love you and I want you, but I want you to be happy and sure, and I don’t want you to sacrifice anything for my sake.’

Darcy took her face between his hands and kissed her eyelids. ‘You look so tired. Tomorrow we’ll go to see your family, but now I’ll drive you home to Follies. Don’t worry any more. Don’t worry about anything.’

‘Are you happy, darling?’ Helen and her mother were washing up the tea things together. Darcy was in the front room of the little house watching a television football match with Graham. He had displayed an unguessed-at interest in the game that delighted Helen’s brother.

Helen stared out at the rectangular garden, less well kept now than when her father was alive. Her mind was blank. ‘Yes,’ she answered. ‘Yes, of course.’ It was so strange, Darcy being here, drinking tea out of the familiar cups and looking at the pictures of Graham and herself ranged on the piano.