and he swung the hand that had been hanging by his side as he spoke, and deposited a dead chicken on the kitchen table. Joanna had never seen anything so repulsive before. The chickens she had cooked had all been plucked and ready for the table, whereas this creature was barely cold, and still covered in its feathery coat.

'Did-did Mrs Harris ask for this, Mr Coulston?' she got out eventually, and he nodded.

'Wanted it for supper this evening,' he declared, pushing the limp body across to her. 'That's Gloria, that is. One of my best layers, in her time. Getting lazy, she was. Must be getting old, Miss ... er ...

Anyway, she's done for now. Comes to all of us eventually, doesn't it?'

Joanna licked her dry lips. 'I've never plucked a chicken before,' she murmured, half to herself. Then: 'Well- thank you, Mr Coulston.

I-er-I'll do what I can.'

His dark eyes narrowed as he looked at her, and then, almost inconsequently, he said: 'I thought you came here to governess that young rip Anya. I didn't know you was a housekeeper.'

'I'm not.' Joanna sighed, realising he probably deserved an explanation. 'I am here to teach Anya. But until Mr Sheldon gets someone else...'

'I see,' the old man nodded. 'And what's a young la.s.sie like you doing in a place like this? From London, ain't you?

Don't the young fellers down there have any eyes?'

Joanna smiled at that. 'That's a nice compliment, Mr Coulston, but I'm not that keen to get married. Besides, no one asked me.'

'No?' He looked sceptical, and she gave a soft laugh.

'Well, no one I wanted to accept,' she conceded, and he chuckled in response.

'So you're going to try and teach some manners to young Anya?'

'That is my intention.'

He grimaced. 'Well, the best of luck! She's not going to be an easy target. Run wild for too long, she has, with only a couple of helpless old biddies to chase after her.'

Joanna laughed again-she couldn't help it. It didn't seem to matter that he was saying virtually the same thing as Mrs Harris had told her. It was the way he said them that mattered, and she sensed that unlike the housekeeper, he had some affection for the girl.

'And your name's Miss-what?' he asked gruffly. 'Can't go on saying you-know-who all the time, can I?'

'It's Seton, actually,' replied Joanna easily. 'Joanna Seton.

How do you do, Mr Coulston?'

'The name's Matt,' he told her, moving towards the door again. 'No need for all that formal stuff.' He looked down at the chicken and then after a moment picked it up again. 'And I'll pluck old Gloria for you, and clean her out. Seeing as how you got shot of old Mother Harris.'

'But I didn't,' protested Joanna, and found she was speaking to a closed door.

She had decided she would have to walk to the village that afternoon for some bread and flour, and was busily whipping up some eggs for lunch, when Anya came into the room. It was the first time Joanna had seen her with her face clean, and the transformation was quite amazing. With her hair decently cut, and wearing something other than those disreputable jeans, she would look quite attractive, Joanna reflected thoughtfully; the contrast of blue eyes- her mother's?-and dark hair-her father's-could be quite a combination.

Nevertheless, the improvement in her appearance did not make Joanna less wary of her. On the contrary, she was actively prepared for a resumption of hostilities, and Anya's first words did nothing to allay her suspicions.

'Where's Mrs Harris?' she asked, standing just inside the door from the hall. 'This is Mrs Harris's kitchen, not yours. You shouldn't be in here.'

Joanna sighed, and put down the bowl of eggs she had been beating.

'I'm sure your father told you, Mrs Harris has left,' she said carefully. 'Now, do you want an omelette for your lunch, or will you get what you want yourself?'

'So long as you're making them, I'll have an omelette,' the girl declared insolently, moving further into the room and straddling a chair at the table. 'Daddy didn't tell me you were going to be the new housekeeper. Why do we have to have you? I want Mrs Harris.'

Joanna steeled herself not to respond as Anya wanted her to do. She would enjoy telling her father how Miss Seton had abused her while he was away, and while Joanna felt reasonably sure that he was not duped by his daughter's behaviour, nevertheless she knew he would not approve of her resorting to a child's methods of retaliation a second time.

Instead she smiled sweetly and said: 'You really are the most obnoxious child, Antonia. And I like you no more than you like me.

But we're going to get along together, one way or the other, and you might as well get used to the fact.'

'My name's Anya,' snapped the girl angrily, springing to hey feet.

'And I'll never get along with you. The others were bad enough, but you're worse. They never got Daddy to get rid of Mrs Harris, and they never made eyes at him every chance they got!'

Joanna gasped-she couldn't help it. The last thing she had done was make eyes at Jake Sheldon, and for a minute she felt so angry she could have slapped Anya's face.

It took all her self-control to pick up the bowl of eggs again and expunge her frustration on them as she answered: 'I did not ask your father to dismiss Mrs Harris, and as for being interested in him, that's ludicrous! I hardly know him, and besides, he's not my type.'

'Because of his face?'

Anya's question was unexpectedly anxious, and Joanna quickly shook her head. 'Of course not. That has nothing to do with it.'

'Doesn't it?' Anya sounded disbelieving now. 'He says no woman would want to look at a gargoyle every day of her life.'

Joanna sighed, reluctantly stirred by the child's involuntary confidence. 'Your father is far too sensitive about his appearance,'

she said firmly. 'You don't mind looking at him, do you?'

'Me?' Anya sat down again almost unthinkingly. 'Of course not! I love him. And I don't care how he looks.'

'There you are, then.' Joanna lifted a heavy frying pan down from a shelf and put it on the top of the cooker. 'When you love someone, you don't judge them on appearance. You care for them for who they are, what they are, what they mean to you.'

Anya was silent for a few minutes, and Joanna added fat to the pan with a feeling almost of disbelief. Who would have believed that only seconds ago she would have been saying such things to this little termagant, who even now was probably thinking of some new mischief to perform.

The omelettes didn't take long to cook, and she heated the tin of mixed vegetables at the same time. It wasn't really a satisfying meal to give a hungry eleven-year-old, she thought ruefully, but until she could get to the shops and stock up on some essential foods, it would have to do.

Anya tucked into her omelette with gusto, and remembering that she had had nothing since the night before, Joanna wasn't altogether surprised. On impulse she opened a can of sliced peaches to give her for dessert, and watched the whole lot disappear while she enjoyed a decent cup of instant coffee.

When the meal was over, Anya rose from the table at once, but Joanna was not about to let her get away like that. 'You can help me with the dishes,' she said briskly, pushing back her chair.

'And then you can show me the way to the village.'

Anya's protests at the former request were stifled by her curiosity at the latter. 'Why do you want to know the way to the village?' she exclaimed, looking suspicious. 'You won't be welcome there.

Ravensmere people don't like us. They think we're-peculiar.'

A thought seemed to occur to her at this, and she hunched her shoulders in a menacing pose. 'Perhaps we are.'

'I expect even monsters have to eat sometimes,' responded Joanna matter-of-factly, carrying their dirty dishes to die sink. 'I want to do some shopping, that's all. I doubt if anyone will refuse my money.'

Anya frowned. 'You can't go shopping in Ravensmere -we never do. Daddy always takes Mrs Harris into Penrith, and she goes to the supermarket there.'

'Well, for once it won't matter,' Joanna retorted blandly.

'Hurry up, bring those plates here. I want to get down to the village and back again before your father gets home.'

Anya looked as though she was going to argue and then thought better of it, shrugging her thin shoulders as she carried the crockery to the sink. If only she could get through to her, thought Joanna hopefully. How much simpler her task would be!

Matt returned with the plucked chicken as she was putting the clean dishes away, and Joanna smiled at him gratefully as he put the bird on the table. 'It really was kind of you,' she murmured, wishing there was some way that she could repay him, but he only winked at her before turning his attention to the child.

'And don't you go giving Miss Seton a lot of bother, young 'un,' he declared, taking her pointed chin in his gnarled hand and tipping her face up to his. 'About time someone took you in hand, it is, and I'm putting my money on Miss Seton to be the one to do it.'

'Oh, are you?'

Anya jerked her chin away, her mouth a.s.suming a rebellious curve, and Joanna couldn't help wishing he had not made such a statement.

It was tantamount to provocation, and Anya was not likely to let it go unchallenged.

'What time did Jake say he'd be back, Miss Seton?' Matt continued, now turning to Joanna, and with one eye on Anya, she shrugged her slim shoulders.

'He didn't. But he was taking Mrs Harris to her sister's in Lancaster, so perhaps you'd know how long that would take.'

Matt tugged thoughtfully at his chin. 'Left about eleven o'clock, you said, didn't you? Should be there soon after one. I reckon he might be back before four.' He frowned. 'Seems like we might as well leave those ditches till tomorrow.'

Joanna hesitated. 'You mean-you and Mr Sheldon were going to- work on these ditches together?'

'That's what I said.'

Joanna nodded, uneasily remembering what had happened the day before. What would Jake have said in these circ.u.mstances?

Was Matt's weakness for the bottle likely to rear its ugly head again in his employer's absence?

Taking an impulsive decision, she said: 'The-er-the garden out back seems a bit neglected. If you've got nothing else to do, Mr Coulston, perhaps you could start digging it over. I'm nor absolutely sure about these things, but isn't it possible to sow crops now that will provide early vegetables in the spring?'

Anya's indignant expression changed to one of malicious antic.i.p.ation at Joanna's suggestion. 'Yes, why don't you dig the garden over, Matt?' she taunted impudently. 'Miss Seton's very good at finding jobs for everybody but herself.'

'That's not true, Anya!'

Joanna spoke defensively, and then quickly turned her irritation to a smile as she encountered Matt's puzzled features.

The last thing she wanted to do was antagonise the one person who had shown her a little understanding since she came here, and she hoped her hasty words had not jeopardised their friendship.

'I only thought ...' she began awkwardly, and then breathed a sigh of relief when she saw his eyes were twinkling.

'I fancy Jake's been telling you about those attacks I have from time to time, Miss Seton,' he said, scratching his head through the thinning threads of his hair. 'Seems like you're worried that the devil himself will take charge of these idle hands.'

'Mr Coulston, honestly -'

'The name's Matt, and don't you forget it. And if you want the kitchen garden digging over, then I'll be happy to do it for you.'

He waggled a finger at Anya as he spoke. 'And don't you go trying to get me and Miss Seton at odds with one another, just because you don't want to learn how to behave yourself.'

Anya's lips compressed into a mutinous line. 'I know how to behave myself,' she declared hotly. 'And you're a fine one to talk about behaviour! I know where you were last night.'

'Anya!'

Joanna was horrified, but Matt only held up his hand. 'She doesn't mean any harm,' he said, his eyes on the girl's flushed face. 'She's like a hare, trapped in the woods. Try as it might, it can't get free, and when someone happens along and tries to release it, it claws and scratches and bites without realising someone's trying to help it.'

'Don't tell me your tales, Matt Coulston,' Anya retorted with a grimace. 'I don't need any help, if that's what you're trying to say.

I know everything I need to know to live here, and that's all that matters.'

'And what happens when your daddy goes back to London?'

enquired Matt patiently. 'Do you think he wants his daughter behaving like a little savage?'

'Daddy's not going back to London,' declared Anya, but there was a note of anxiety in her tones that she could not quite disguise. 'He- he wouldn't be happy there. He said so. And in any case, it's nothing to do with you, so there!'

She threw herself out of the room without another word, and Joanna breathed a sigh of resignation. Anya would probably disappear again now, and her hopes of finding a short cut to the village seemed doomed to failure.

Then a thought suddenly struck her. 'Mr Coulston- Matt!'

He halted in the process of going out the door. 'Yes?'

'Could I walk to the village from here? I mean, without going round by the road? It must be about three miles that way. I wondered if there was a short cut.'

Matt frowned, and looked as if he was about to ask why she wanted to go to Ravensmere. Then he seemed to think better of it, and shrugging his slightly-stooped shoulders, he said: 'You can walk down to the stream and follow the path that takes you to Piper's Bridge, but I wouldn't advise it. With all this rain we've been having, the path's flooded in places, and you could find your feet sliding into the water.'

'Oh, dear!' Joanna grimaced.

'There is the other way,' he added doubtfully. 'Young Anya could show it to you. It's a bit more complicated to describe, you see. It means going round through the copse, over Trevor's field, and down into the village by the lane from the farm.'

Joanna's face brightened. 'That sounds more interesting. I'm sure I Could find it, Matt, if you just told me exactly how to reach this farm track.'

It was a little complicated, remembering the path she had to take through the wood, and which field skirted the farm buildings, but when she left the kitchen to go up to her room to get ready she felt reasonably confident of her route. She washed her face and hands, applied a little more makeup, and then surveyed the room with some misgivings. Perhaps now that Mrs Harris was gone she could persuade Jake to spend some money on redecoration, although it was possible that he might not be able to afford such luxuries.

Coming down the stairs again, b.u.t.toning the sheepskin jacket she had worn that morning, she was surprised to find Anya waiting for her in the hall. The girl had brushed her hair and put on a clean anorak over her sweater and jeans, and Joanna couldn't believe that this improvement was going to last.

'Where are you going?' she asked, checking her handbag to make sure she had everything she needed, and Anya a.s.sumed an indignant expression.

'You said you wanted to go to the village,' she replied, pushing her hands into the pockets of her anorak. 'I'm here to show you the way.'

'Oh!' Joanna tried not to look as astonished as she felt. After the scene in the kitchen, the last thing she had expected was that Anya should remember what she had told her, and she wondered if their apparent truce was going to last.

'You do want to go to the village, don't you?' Anya persisted, and Joanna had to admit that she did. 'Then let's go,' suggested the girl impatiently, and with a helpless shrug Joanna agreed.

Outside, the day was quite warm, considering the time of the year, and Joanna breathed deeply, feeling quite exhilarated at her unexpected success. Still, the sharpness of the air reminded her of Anya's refuge the night before, and testing the strength of her amicability, she said: 'Weren't you cold in that hut last night? I mean, it didn't look particularly well insulated, and it was quite far up the mountain.'