They were both standing now, looking one another straight in the face and for once Mrs Baines’s eyes did not waver. Their glances met and held in what, in almost any other circumstances, would have been an embarrassingly lengthy stare. And somewhere, deep down below all the defensive layers of Mrs Baines’s stubbornness and rejection, something stirred, struggled and broke to the surface.

‘Leave it alone,’ she said in a quiet voice. ‘You’ve no notion what you’re up against. It’s so . . .’ She broke off with a shudder.

‘It pleases me that you should care what happens to me,’ Miss Mayfield said. ‘And I’m grateful. Please don’t worry. I think I shall be all right.’

21

SATURDAY WAS A BRIGHT, COLD DAY IN LONDON, but as the train carried Miss Mayfield eastwards, it ran into rain; the slate-coloured clouds hung almost as low as the billows of smoke that came from the engine, and the raindrops slashed at the windows. She had chosen a slow train, one that stopped at every station, and it was almost dark when she alighted at the one immediately preceding Selbury. It was a sizeable village, just large enough to have a taxi waiting on the chance of picking up a customer.

‘I want to go to Renham,’ she told the driver.

‘Renham. Ooh, you done wrong, then, to get out here. You shoulda kept in the train far as Selbury. Still, whass done is done. Renham, now, would that be beyond the river, or this side? Because, to tell you the truth, I don’t much fancy that road in this rain. Might run into floods.’

‘Renham is this side of the river.’

To have driven in a taxi to Walwyk on this day would have been tantamount to entering with a brass band and banners.

She had chosen her destination carefully, marking it down on one of her trips to Selbury from Walwyk. It was an empty house and had been empty for some time, though it bore no sign that it was for sale. It stood just back from the road and was separated from it by a high wall, in which was set a gate, too narrow to admit a vehicle. In the space between the house and the wall, two tall fir trees grew. It seemed made for her purpose; even the most kindly and chivalrous driver must drop her at the gate and leave her to make her way to the door, and she would be spared the embarrassment of being watched knocking on the door of an unoccupied house.