Anya's eyes widened. 'Gosh! Won't Daddy mind?'

Joanna sighed. 'If he does, he can take the cost for these things out of my wages,' she replied. 'Now, we need some underwear and some boots.'

Anya hesitated, looking at her doubtfully. 'Why should you do this for me?' she asked curiously. 'I mean, you're not my aunt or anything. You're not even related to me.'

Joanna bent her head, making a display of looking for her wallet.

'Let's say I'm willing to speculate on the future,' she said, not quite knowing what she meant by that, but Anya still lingered.

'You mean-my future?' she asked, frowning, and Joanna was forced to meet her gaze.

'What else?' she retorted, controlling her colour with difficulty.

'Now hurry and get changed. We still have quite a lot to do.'

By the time they met Paul in the b.u.t.tery of the Golden Lion they were loaded down with parcels and carrier bags. As well as the items Joanna had purchased at the first shop, there was underwear and nightwear, shirts and sweaters, socks and shoes, and a pair of knee-length leather boots, with a heel that delighted Anya. She was so excited, she spent the first ten minutes telling Paul about the things they had bought, and Joanna reflected, with a certain amount of satisfaction, how much more natural it was for her to chatter on in this way, instead of displaying the sullen insolence she had first encountered. Was it only attention Anya had been lacking?

Someone to listen to her and understand her problems? Or was it that since Mrs Harris had departed the atmosphere at Ravengarth had changed, and she had no longer any need to be on the defensive?

When the meal was eventually served and Anya was tucking in to scampi and chips, Paul took time out to ask Joanna how she had been. 'We've been rather concerned about you,' he said, and she hoped Anya wasn't paying him any attention. 'You haven't taken any more walks to the village.'

It was difficult to be frank with the child looking on, but Joanna tried anyway. 'There's been no need,' she explained, glancing at Anya's bent head. 'To go to the village, I mean. Mrs Parrish has her own car. But we have taken walks by the stream, and once we walked as far as Heronsfoot.'

Paul frowned. 'Mrs Parrish,' he mused. 'That's the new housekeeper, I presume. Is she satisfactory?'

'Very satisfactory,' Joanna nodded. 'She's very nice, actually.

She's a widow-from a village near here. She has a grown-up family of her own.'

'She makes super pies,' Anya put in at this point, dispelling any suspicion that she had not been listening to their conversation. 'Does your housekeeper make pies, Mr Trevor? If not, you ought to try Mrs Parrish's.'

Paul smiled. 'I don't have a housekeeper, Anya,' he explained.

'I live with my parents, and my mother does all the cooking in our house.

You'll have to get Miss Seton to bring you over to sample her cakes one afternoon.' He cast a challenging look in Joanna's direction. 'I'm sure she'll confirm that they're super, too.'

Anya had been listening with evident interest, and now she said: 'You have a farm, don't you? It's bigger than Ravengarth. Do you have horses?'

Joanna's spirits took a distinctive downward trend as Paul a.s.sured the girl that indeed they had. And what was more, his father had offered her the chance to ride one of them if she chose to do so.

'Didn't Miss Seton tell you?' he asked, feigning innocence, and it was left to Joanna to soothe Anya's indignant feelings.

'Your father wasn't enthusiastic,' she replied carefully. 'I suppose he was thinking of your welfare. Horses can be dangerous animals- believe me, I know.'

She remembered her father's death with sudden depression.

Her life had seemed so simple up to that point. Her mother's, too. Now she was the only breadwinner, and Mrs Seton had become little more than a helpless invalid. She had depended on her husband so much, they both had, and it was hard for Joanna to reconcile the love she had had for Martin Seton all his life with the feelings of helplessness she had experienced upon discovering his reckless disregard for his family's future. He had gambled, and he had lost, and Joanna was only now beginning to forgive him for leaving them to make the best of their lives. It wasn't so bad for her; she was young and resilient. But her mother had never expected to have to beg help from friends and relatives, and only Aunt Lydia's intervention had saved the situation.

'I know how to ride,' Anya was saying proudly. 'I used to have a pony of my own which Daddy kept stabled near town. I used to ride every weekend.' She spoke wistfully now, and then seemed to realise she was dropping her guard. 'Anyway, I'd like to borrow your horse, Mr Trevor. And I'm sure I can persuade Daddy to let me.'

Joanna wished she was as sure, but she refrained from arguing. She had enough on her mind with the more immediate problems of Anya's new wardrobe, and she wished she had been a little more circ.u.mspect in the extent of her purchases.

It was almost four o'clock when Paul dropped them at the gates of Ravengarth. He refused Joanna's offer of a cup of tea, much to her relief, and instead suggested he might call again towards the end of the week.

'I could drive you and Anya over to the farm, instead of leaving you to tramp through the woods,' he said, as an afterthought. 'You might even stay for lunch if you're not busy.'

'Oh, really-I'll let you know,' insisted Joanna firmly. 'That is-Mr Sheldon may not-be enthusiastic.'

'Don't you want to go, Miss Seton?' asked Anya pointedly, and with a slight deepening of colour in her cheeks, Joanna demurred.

'I'll let you know,' she said again, and with a polite wave of her hand urged Anya across die yard and into the house.

Mrs Parrish was in the kitchen, making herself and Matt a pot of tea.

She and the old gardener-c.u.m-handyman got along very well in the main, although he was apt to grumble about the amount of logs she had him saw sometimes, and her insistence that he always removed his boots before stepping across her neatly polished floor.

'Well now, what have you got there?' she asked with a twinkle, as Anya carried her parcels into the room and allowed them to tumble all over the table. 'Seems like you've bought up half of Penrith, by the looks of things. I hope your father isn't going to be bankrupt after this extravagance.'

Anya giggled, but Joanna found her own sense of humour somewhat lacking. Mrs Parrish had a habit of saying what she had only been thinking, and in this instance it was too close for comfort.

'Miss Seton paid for everything,' declared Anya, with the inconsequence of youth. 'She said if Daddy didn't want to pay, it didn't matter.'

Mrs Parrish raised her eyebrows at this, and even Matt looked a trifle doubtful, and Joanna hastened to correct the child's statement.

'I said-if Mr Sheldon objected, he could take the cost out of my wages,' she explained uncomfortably. Then, needing rea.s.surance, she added: 'But you don't think he will, do you? I mean, Anya needed these things.'

They were all still looking at one another, each of them searching for the right response, when Joanna heard footsteps approaching down the hall. It had to be Jake. Either he had been in the house all the time, or he had just come in, she wasn't sure which, but at least she was not to be kept in suspense over her reckless buying spree.

The door opened and he came into the room, his dark visage casting an immediate shadow on the proceedings- or so it seemed to Joanna's anxious mind. His eyes moved swiftly round the room, identifying the four people present, and then turned to Joanna in fleeting interrogation.

'Daddy!' Anya's excited cry broke the silence, and she danced towards him, wrapping her arms around his hips and pressing her small body against him. 'Daddy, we've had a marvellous time! We had lunch with Mr Trevor at a hotel, and we've done heaps of shopping. You're not cross, are you? You don't mind that Miss Seton spent all your money?'

Jake looked down at his daughter with wry cynicism. 'It seems to me it would be all the same if I did,' he remarked dryly, and Joanna tensed at the implied criticism. Then he lifted his head and fixed her with a piercing stare. 'I trust you had a pleasant day, Miss Seton. At least you appear to have succeeded in teaching Anya to appreciate her femininity at last.'

It was a half-hearted compliment at best, but Joanna refused to be intimidated. 'Anya's an easy child to buy for,' she said. 'All the current styles are suited to her size and shape.'

'Miss Seton says I'm not bony, just slim,' averred Anya eagerly. 'Do you think I'm pretty, Daddy? The lady in the shop said I was.'

'And so you are,' exclaimed Mrs Parrish, relieving the situation. 'It'l be a change to see you in something other than those old jeans.

You'll look like a proper little girl.'

Jake released himself from his daughter's clinging arms and went to examine the articles spread across the table for himself.

'Miss Seton has certainly been generous,' he remarked, his expression sardonic.

'I just wonder when you're going to wear all these things, Anya.

Unlike Miss Seton, the chances of you moving in social circles are decidedly doubtful.'

Joanna's lips tightened, and she wished she had the right to tell him to shut up. It was as if he was determined to belittle her efforts, but in so doing he was destroying his daughter's enthusiasm.

'Anya-Anya might like to spend a weekend with my mother and me,' she flung at him recklessly, ignoring the practicalities of such an invitation. 'When I have a weekend off, she-she could come home with me. It's only a small flat, but she could share my room -'

'I think that is most unlikely,' Jake overrode her harshly, and she knew she had succeeded in dispelling his patronising manner.

But in its place was something far more destructive. 'I don't propose to allow Anya to become a curiosity, a figure of fun, for your friends to treat with condescension!'

'And isn't that just what you're doing?' demanded Joanna, aware of Anya's startled gaze, but unable to prevent the instinctive need to defend herself. 'Why should anyone make fun of her? She's a perfectly normal little girl. There's nothing wrong with her that can't be mended, so long as she isn't corrupted by your distorted view of life!'

Matt muttered something about seeing to the milking then, and even Mrs Parrish made an excuse and disappeared into the pantry. It left Joanna alone to face Jake and his daughter, but her taste for the confrontation was rapidly dwindling. Once again, she realised, she had spoken without considering her words, and even Anya looked shocked at her manner of attack.

There was an uneasy silence while Joanna stood there, her face burning, feeling the weight of censure upon her, and then Jake said bleakly: 'I suggest this is neither the time nor the place to discuss Anya's future.' He paused, long fingers probing his scarred cheek-which did not make Joanna feel any better. 'Later this evening I'll speak to you in the library. Perhaps then we can clarify your position in this household, and consider what means I have at my disposal to- improve the situation.'

Joanna licked her dry lips, but she couldn't remain silent.

'You're going to dismiss me, is that it?' she burst out, wondering what she would do if it were so, and his tawny eyes glittered.

'As I say, we'll discuss these matters later,' he replied, with cold deliberation, and she knew he was not about to satisfy her anxiety.

Anya pursed her lips. 'Don't you like my clothes. Daddy?' she exclaimed, and Joanna realised that for all her maturity in some ways she was still only a child, concerned with more immediate matters. 'It wasn't my idea to spend so much money. But Miss Seton said if you couldn't afford them, you could take the money out of her wages.'

'Really?' Once again Joanna squirmed beneath that contemptuous appraisal. 'Well, I'd hazard a guess that Miss Seton's finances are in a worse state than mine, little one, and if anyone can't afford new clothes, it's Miss Seton.'

Anya looked confused. 'But -'

'The cost of the clothes is not in question,' her father retorted smoothly. 'And now I think it's time you went and washed your hands. You can take these things upstairs later.'

'Yes, Daddy.'

She cast a thoughtful look in Joanna's direction as she left the room, and Joanna wondered what she was thinking. It was obviously strange for her to hear anyone arguing with her father, but, she defended herself, someone had to do it. Someone had to convince Jake Sheldon that he couldn't cut himself off from the world completely. Sooner or later he had to face the future-and himself.

CHAPTER NINE.

MRS PARRISH'S ' reappearance saved Joanna from any further conversation with Jake at that point. The housekeeper exchanged a sympathetic look with the girl as Jake disappeared outside, but although Joanna was grateful, she guessed the older woman had been as shocked at her apparent insensitivity as anyone else.

In her room, Joanna viewed her future with a feeling of depression she could not shake off. It was useless telling herself that her motives had been good. The fact remained that she had spoken cra.s.sly in front of his other employees, and he had every right to resent her presumption.

She paced restlessly across the floor, wishing she could learn to hold her tongue. It wasn't the first time she had undermined his influence, and what justification did she have for disparaging his methods of bringing up his daughter?

Dragging a chair to the window, she draped her arm along its back, resting her chin on her knuckles and gazing out broodingly into the darkness. It was a crisp, moonlit evening, the sky already beginning to take on its starry mantle. Yet even so early in the evening she could hear the mournful cry of the barn owl that had made its home in the eaves, and the less eerie, but just as distinctive, barking of the dogs, as they guided Matt back to his cottage. They were nice sounds, homely sounds, sounds she had become accustomed to hearing, and sounds she would miss terribly if she had to go away.

She sighed. Who was she fooling? It wasn't just the cry of an owl, or the barking of dogs, or the bleeting of the sheep she would find so hard to forget. It wasn't even Anya, although the child had begun to find her place in Joanna's affections. It was Jake Sheldon, her employer, the man who had made it abundantly clear that he wanted nothing from her, not even her sympathy.

Yet in spite of everything-his moods and his silences, his cynicism and his anger-she had fallen in love with him, and her vulnerability had placed her in an impossible position. She wanted to talk with him, not fight with him, to share his anxieties, and lean on his strength. But instead they seemed bound on a collision course that no appeal on her part could prevent, with the spectre of his accident like a phantom in the wings. He simply wouldn't listen when she tried to reason with him, arid his obstinacy provoked her to say things she afterwards regretted bitterly. But her feelings made a mockery of his self-consciousness about his appearance, and she desperately wanted to convince him that people were not as obtuse as he seemed to think. She loved him. She would have him no other way. But would she ever be able to make him believe it, particularly as he regarded her as little more than an adolescent, with an adolescent's inexperience and immaturity?

By the time she went down for supper Joanna was in a high state of nerves, and they were not improved when Mrs Parrish confided that Matt had apparently gone on another of his drunken binges.

'Got a message from the pub, Mr Sheldon did,' she explained, ladling soup into three earthenware bowls. 'Does he do this often? I wouldn't have expected it of him myself.'

Joanna sighed, fingertips tapping uneasily against the scrubbed pine surface of the table. 'Oh, he-he-I think it happens about once a month,' she murmured absently, wondering whether this meant her interview with Jake would be postponed until tomorrow. 'Did Mr Sheldon say when he'd be back?'

'No. Just said he didn't expect to be long,' Mrs Parrish replied, putting the ladle back into the pan. 'Now, do you went to eat in the dining room as usual? Or will you and Anya just have it here with me?'

'Oh, here, I think,' affirmed Joanna eagerly, unwilling to leave the warmth and comfort of the kitchen for the doubtful heat of the dining room. Of late, she and Anya, and sometimes Jake, if he was at home, had taken supper together in the dining room, but as breakfast and lunch were invariably staggered meals, they were usually eaten in the kitchen. Besides, now that the weather was getting colder the dining room could be a chilly place, despite the generous fire Mrs Parrish always kept supplied.

Now, Joanna seated herself at the table, taking care not to snag her tights on the rough wooden chairs. She had taken particular care with her appearance, in antic.i.p.ation of her confrontation with her employer, but now it seemed the high-heeled sandals and pencil-slim jersey dress were more likely to go unnoticed. Still, it had been good to dress up for once, and she knew the honey-gold colour of the dress was becoming to the gold-streaked coil of brown silk that was wound like a coronet on top of her head. When she was a little girl her father had told her that one should always go down fighting, and in his own case that had certainly been true, however tragic.

Anya, when she came to join them, looked Joanna over with speculative eyes. 'Are you going out with Mr Trevor?' she enquired, perching on the corner of the table, and Mrs Parrish scooted her off as Joanna made her denial.

'I just felt like-wearing something different,' she said, trying to sound more casual than she felt. 'I thought you might have felt the same.'

'Oh, me?' Anya's lips jutted, as she surveyed the jeans and sweater she had worn to go to Penrith. 'I look all right, don't I?

Besides, I couldn't be bothered.'

Joanna sighed. She guessed Jake's att.i.tude had not helped Anya to adjust to her awakening femininity, and without his encouragement she would never become the normal child he expected.

'Where is Daddy?' Anya went on, addressing her question to Mrs Parrish, and the housekeeper explained once again where Jake had gone.

'Oh, Matt!' Anya hunched her shoulders. 'I wish he wouldn't get himself into trouble. Just because his wife died.' She shook her head.

'My daddy's wife died, but he doesn't get drunk all the time.'

Joanna frowned. 'You mean Mrs Coulston died recently?'

'About a year ago,' agreed Anya offhandedly. 'You'd think he'd have got over it by now, wouldn't you?' She grimaced. 'I didn't care when my mother died.' She paused. 'I was glad!'

'Anya!'

Both Joanna and Mrs Parrish spoke simultaneously, but the girl didn't flinch.

'Well,' she declared defensively, 'it's true. She didn't care about me, and I didn't care about her!'

Joanna exchanged an anxious look with the housekeeper, then, trying to adopt a soothing tone, she said: 'You don't know that, Anya. You were too young to understand -'

'She was getting a divorce!' a.s.serted Anya indignantly. 'She was going to leave me. You don't do that to people you care about.'

Joanna considered her argument. 'Anya, lots of people get divorced every year. That doesn't mean they don't care about their children. It just means they can't live together any more.'