“I can see she’s a marvellous housekeeper, looks after the house awfully well and cooks and everything, but I don’t really like her. I can’t think why, for I’m sure she’s a very good woman, but you can’t like people just because they’re good, can you?” She got up. “We’re nearly there.” She stretched up to the rack for her case. “I am glad I met you. I’ve a feeling we’re going to be friends.”

Worsingfold was a halt not a station. Sheila was sitting on its only bench. She was a beauty and never forgot it for a second. Now on an empty station she was nicely posed for the edification of everybody on the train. She was wearing a blue linen frock the exact colour of her eyes. She had moved to the end of the bench where the sun caught the gold in her fair curls. On the seat beside her was a straw hat with a ribbon round it that matched her frock. Her face and bare legs were becomingly tanned.

She knew she looked like the cover of the summer number of a magazine, and felt it was a treat for the people on the train to have a look at her. She did not get up too quickly to spoil the effect, but sauntered over to Janet enjoying the male eyes that gazed admiringly out of every window.

“Hullo, Janet.” Then she saw Barbara and her voice changed. “Good afternoon, Miss Haines.”

Barbara nodded, and said a cheerful “Hullo”. It seemed normal enough, but Janet had one of those fleeting thoughts, that you can’t pin down, that something was not quite right; then even before the thought had taken shape she had forgotten it in her pleasure at seeing Sheila, and after months of loneliness being in touch once more with home.

“I’ve managed to get the taxi,” Sheila announced.

“I wish I’d known your sister was coming,” said Barbara. “I put my car in the station garage and I could have driven you home.”

Sheila did not look grateful.

“Thank you, but I was able to get the taxi all right, and even if people can scrounge plenty of petrol one doesn’t like to use it.”

Barbara flushed.

“I’ve no more petrol than anybody else, but it wouldn’t have been out of my way to drop you.” She turned to Janet. “Goodbye. I hope you enjoy your holiday, and don’t forget your promise to come and see us.”

Sheila stared after Barbara, scowling.

“I could have driven you home,” she minced.

A very ancient taxi was standing outside, with a grey-haired, bent old driver at the wheel. When he saw Janet carrying her suitcase he began to move preparatory to getting out. She stopped him with a smile.

“Don’t bother, I can lift it in.”

The driver shook his head.