“She isn’t, at least not today. She’s booked in for a second night.”

“And you agreed?”

“I could hardly refuse, not without an explanation, and there wasn’t one. The room was vacant. I phoned George and he didn’t seem worried.”

“He wouldn’t be. An extra day’s income and at no trouble to him.”

Helena said, “And no trouble for us either.”

She spoke without resentment. George Chandler-Powell was behaving reasonably. But she would find a time to have a word with him about these one-nighters. Was it really necessary to have to take a preliminary look at the facilities? She didn’t want the Manor degenerating into a bed-and-breakfast hotel. On second thoughts, perhaps it would be wiser not to raise the matter. He had always been adamant that patients should be given the opportunity to see in advance where their operation was to take place. He would see any interference with his clinical judgement as intolerable. Their relationship had never been clearly defined, but both knew how they stood. He never interfered with her domestic running of the Manor; she took no part in the clinic.

Candace said, “And she’s coming back?”

“I presume so, in just over two weeks’ time.” There was a silence. Helena said, “Why do you feel so strongly about it? She’s a patient much like the others. She’s booked in for a week’s convalescence after surgery, but I doubt whether she’ll stay the course, not in December. She’ll probably want to get back to town. Whether she does or not, I can’t see her being more of a nuisance than the other patients. Probably less.”

“It depends on what you mean by a nuisance. She’s an investigative journalist. She’ll always be on the lookout for a story. And if she wants material for a new article, she’ll find it, even if she does no more than write a diatribe about the vanity and silliness of some of our patients. After all, they’re guaranteed secrecy as well as security. I don’t see how you can hope for secrecy with an investigative journalist in residence, particularly this one.”

Helena said, “With only herself and Mrs. Skeffington in residence, she’s hardly likely to encounter more than one example of vanity and silliness to write about.”

She thought, But it’s more than that. Why should she worry whether the clinic flourishes or fails once her brother has gone? She said, “But with you it’s personal, isn’t it? It has to be.”

Candace turned away. Helena regretted the sudden impulse which had prompted the question. The two of them worked well together, respected each other, at least professionally. Now wasn’t the time to start exploring those private areas which she knew, like her own, were barred by a keep-out notice.

There was silence, then Helena said, “You said there were two things.”