'Catherine!' He spoke through his teeth. 'All right, all right-perhaps I have been punishing you this week-'

'Punishing me?' She looked incredulously at him.

'Yes. Punishing you.' He ran a weary hand round the back of his neck, disordering his hair, the b.u.t.tons of his shirt straining apart to reveal the hair-darkened skin of his chest. 'It may amuse you to know that I've punished myself, too.'

Catherine didn't want to listen to him. Her mind was made up.

She was leaving tomorrow afternoon. Jared was going to marry Laura, and whatever he said, staying here could only prolong the eventual agony.

'You're wasting your time, Jared.' She was amazed at how cold her voice sounded even to her ears. 'Now, if that's all you have to say. , .'

'Catherine!' He caught her by the shoulders, his eyes grim with impatience. 'I don't think you understand.'

'It's you who doesn't understand, Jared.'

'Oh, I admit--when I first found out how you had tricked me, I was mad! Can you blame me? But it hasn't been easy, and after what Tony told me this afternoon. . . Perhaps we were both at fault. Perhaps I misjudged you-'

'Perhaps?'

'-but I'm a jealous man! I never thought I could want any woman who had-who wasn't-' He broke off frustratedly.

'What I'm trying to say is, if I have to choose, I'd rather have you as you are than not at all!'

Catherine gasped. 'Shop-soiled? Is that what you mean?'

'Don't put labels on people, Catherine. G.o.d, I'm doing this badly-'

'Yes, you are.' She thrust him away from her, and stood panting in front of him. 'You-you- I hope I never have to see you again!'

'You don't mean that.'

'Don't I?'

His face was very pale, but she scarcely noticed it.

'I love you, Catherine.'

'Love?' She almost laughed in his face. 'You don't know the meaning of the word!'

And brushing past him, she left the room. She felt chilled, numb, completely without emotion. These weeks in Barbados had been an experience she was never likely to forget. An experience it would not pay her to forget.

Laura came to lunch the following day.

Catherine had seen no sign of Jared since the scene they had had in the library the night before, and judging by Elizabeth's tight expression, she guessed he had made himself unavailable to her as well. But Laura was quite another matter.

'But this is so sudden, isn't it?' she exclaimed, looking blankly from Catherine to Tony. 'You didn't mention you were leaving so soon, either of you.'

'Well, I have a job of work to do, old love,' remarked Tony, with his easy familiarity. 'I'm not like you lotus-eaters, you know. I have to earn my living.'

Laura made an impatient gesture. 'But Jared told me you were staying for at least six months, Catherine,' she protested.

Catherine bent her head. In Laura's position, she doubled she would have been complaining. She shook her head. Laura was too nice a girl, that was her trouble. She asked to be hurt. And Jared would hurt her, even in her numbed state Catherine understood that.

'I-I suppose, like Tony, I want to get back to work,' she said at last.

'Work?' Elizabeth entered the conversation for the first time.

'What work do you do, Catherine?'

'Quite a lot, actually,' interposed Tony swiftly, detecting the scathing note in Elizabeth s voice. 'Catherine drives. She has her own car. It's useful for our organisation to have members who are not handicapped in any way. Do you know, she raised funds through jumble sales and raffles, that sort of thing, to buy a specially equipped mini-bus to take our really handicapped members on outings?'

'Really?' Elizabeth was not impressed.

'That's wonderful!' Laura looked envious. 'I wish I could do something like that. One can get bored with socialising all the time.'

'Well, you'll be married soon,' put in Elizabeth silkily. 'Then you won't have time to feel bored. And once you start a family...'

'Yes.' But Laura did not sound so convinced. She continued to look wistfully at Catherine and Tony, and it was obvious that for once she was taking little notice of her stepmother-in-law to be.

Although she told herself that she was glad he had not put in an appearance, Catherine was surprised when Jared did not return before they left for the airport. Sylvester was driving them, and it was, amazingly, quite a wrench, even saying goodbye to Elizabeth and Laura, watching their figures grow smaller as the distance between them and the moving car lengthened.

At the airport they had to wait for some time after checking in, but Tony kept up a steady flow of conversation, and although Catherine knew why he was doing it, the therapy worked just the same.

It was when they were actually boarding the airliner that she thought she saw Jared, but she told herself she must have been imagining things. Nevertheless, there was something familiar about the man seated astride the motor-cycle at the edge of the runway, and who else but a Royal could have gained access anyway.. .

CHAPTER ELEVEN.

London was still cold, doubly so, after the heat they had left behind, but spring was on its way. There were tulips and daffodils everywhere, and the trees in the parks were burgeoning with new life.

It was good to be back at the flat. It was good to be amongst things and people she knew again. And Catherine enjoyed the sensation of being her own mistress once more.

During the first few days she took things easy, getting back into the swing of things. Mrs Forrest, her daily, had kept the flat in good order, but it lacked those lived-in touches which Catherine took pleasure in replacing. She bought books and magazines, treated herself to some new cosmetics, and filled the rooms with spring flowers. But she refused to admit to the awareness that no matter how many blooms she bought, she could never emulate the perfumes and colours of Amaryllis.

She went to see her solicitors, and explained that she was now back in London again. They seemed surprised, but not unduly so, and she guessed they imagined she had come back because she had been bored.

Life took on a pattern. She picked up the old threads without too much difficulty, and found in her work with Tony the escape she needed from the tortuous workings of her subconscious. Asleep, she couldn't prevent the dreams from coming, and in consequence she invariably awoke feeling more exhausted than when she had gone to bed.

Tony's headquarters were situated on the ground floor of an old house he owned in Ealing. The top two floors and the bas.e.m.e.nt were useless to people who spent their lives in wheelchairs, but they were rented out to an a.s.sortment of other organisations as committee rooms, offices, and the like, the income helping towards the a.s.sociation's funds. From here, Tony directed the whole operation, and although the paper was peeling off the walls and the woodwork had seen better days, there was so much warmth and enthusiasm expended here that Catherine had always liked to be part of it. She had got involved indirectly during her final year at school, when some of the older pupils had organised a working party to help the old and the handicapped, and once she had got to know Tony, she had never looked back. She shared his dream of a modern equipped centre, somewhere that combined practical working facilities with recreational ones.

During the following weeks Catherine tried to throw off her depression, spending long hours working at the centre, or out collecting articles for a charity auction she was planning. She fell into bed at night, too tired to think of anything but sleep, but the restlessness of those periods of unconsciousness left dark rings around her eyes. Tony was becoming quite worried about her, but she managed to waylay his suspicions by wearing a heavier make-up.

One morning she arrived at the centre to find the place in uproar.

Jerry Allan, one of Tony's satellites, met her in the hall. He was a spastic, who had spent all his life in a wheelchair, but this morning he was fairly jumping out of his seat.

'Wait until you see Tony!' he exclaimed, grinning. 'Just you wait.'

Catherine stared at him in astonishment. 'Why? What is it?

What's happened?'

Jerry shook his head. 'Well-no, I can't tell you. It wouldn't be fair. It's Tony's news. He'll tell you himself.'

'Tell me what?'

'Go on, go in. You'll find out.'

With an exasperated sigh, Catherine pushed open Tony's office door. The room was filled with people, and she looked over their heads at Tony at his desk. 'What's going on?' she exclaimed, half laughing. 'Has someone won the pools?'

'Better than that, Cat,' Tony called above the din of voices.

'We've had a donation. A donation towards the new centre. Wait for it-one hundred thousand pounds!'

Catherine grasped the door post to support herself. 'A hundred thousand pounds?' she echoed weakly. 'But-but who-?'

'We don't know.' Tony waved the cheque excitedly. 'An anonymous donor. But it's valid. I've already rung the bank, and they've verified that the cheque won't bounce.'

Catherine's legs felt terribly shaky, and she moved to sit on the side of his desk. 'But didn't the bank tell you?' she protested.

'Of course not. That's private information. It's all been done through solicitors. You know how these things are. But why worry? We've got it, and that's all we need to know. You realise what it means, of course. We can actually start looking for a site for the new centre!'

'Aren't you thrilled?' cried Barbara Collins, Tony's secretary, from behind her desk.

'I think the shock's been too much for her,' remarked David Johnson, one of the older members of the group, whose disabilities stemmed from injuries he had received during the war.

'You do look rather pale,' agreed Tony anxiously. 'What is it, old love? Aren't you feeling well?'

'I'm feeling fine,' Catherine protested hastily, but was she? It was wonderful news, of course. This money, together with the several thousands they already had in the bank, would enable Tony to offer the contracts for the new centre, and her donation-the donation her father had been so opposed to-would no longer be quite so necessary.

And it was more than that. The new centre had never been quite real to her, it had been a goal to work for, but that was all. Now that it was within reach, her efforts would no longer need to be so urgent.

Tony cleared his office a few minutes later, and when they were alone, he said quietly: 'You don't have to pretend with me, Cat. I know what's wrong. You've been half killing yourself with work these past few weeks, and now you think the effort's been for nothing.'

'No!' She shook her head vigorously. 'Tony, I'm not selfish enough to want your hopes never to be fulfilled!'

'No,' he conceded. 'But you haven't fooled me, old love. Since you came back from Barbados, this place has been a kind of hair shirt for you. I don't know what it is you think you need to scourge yourself of, but sooner or later you had to start living with yourself again, without all this expansion of energy.'

Catherine got up from the desk and walked across the room, looking out on the backs of a row of dingy houses behind. 'I just wanted to work, that was all,' she said tightly.

'No, that wasn't all,' Tony contradicted her dryly. 'You've been wearing yourself out. Why?'

'You're imagining things, Tony-'

'No, I'm not. I've wanted to say this for some time, Catherine. If you go on at this rate, you'll give yourself a nervous breakdown!'

He sighed. 'It's Royal, isn't it? G.o.d, I should have known. I should never have suggested you came back.'

Catherine swung round. 'I-I would have done, anyway. I couldn't stay there.'

'Because Jared Royal was marrying Laura,' commented Tony heavily. 'For no other reason.'

Catherine clenched her fists. 'You don't know that.'

'Then you tell me what's eating you up.'

'Nothing's eating me up! I-I've been sleeping badly, that's all.'

'And it has nothing to do with the fact that he should be a married man by now? That he and Laura are man and wife, living together, eating together-sleeping together?'

'Oh-' Catherine's composure snapped, and a sob caught in her throat. 'Th-that's a rotten thing to--to say!' she gulped, and turned away as the hot tears, which had been so long in coming, overran her eyes and flooded down her cheeks.

Tony let her cry for a few minutes, and then he came round the desk, propelling his wheelchair to her side, and putting his arm comfortingly around her waist.

'Don't you know it's better to cry?' he demanded huskily.

'Emotions build up inside you. If you don't let them out, they start to tear you to pieces.'

Catherine took the handkerchief he offered and rubbed her eyes.

'I'm so selfish!' she sobbed, into the square of white linen. 'You've had such good news, and I'm spoiling it all for you.'

'Nonsense!' Tony was brisk. 'That's what- friends are for. And I can never be anything more than a friend,' he finished gruffly, 'so don't deny me that, at least.'

'Oh, Tony,' she whispered, looking down at him tremulously. 'I love Jared.'

'I know you do,' he said, without rancour. 'But we both know that's no good, don't we?' She nodded mutely, and he made a determined gesture.

'So-you have to live with it, and-we have work to do.'

Surprisingly, there seemed more work to do in the next couple of weeks than less. The architects had to be contacted, and their original plans studied and in some cases modified, the local council played their pan in finding a suitable building site, and there were letters to be written to builders and contractors, as well as the normal day-to-day running of the Baling centre.

Catherine threw herself wholeheartedly into the scheme, sometimes working late into the evening, discussing the recreational priorities with Tony, deciding what should come first in the initial stages of the building.

They had been working one evening and were about to go out in search of a drink and supper, when the doorbell rang. Leaving Tony to tidy up his desk, Catherine went to answer it, stepping back aghast when she opened the door and the light from the hall behind her illuminated the face of the girl waiting outside.

'Laura!' she exclaimed, in amazement. 'Good heavens, what are you doing here?'

Automatically, her eyes went beyond the girl, but there was no one with her, and reaction sent a shudder of apprehension over her body.

'Hey, Catherine.' Laura took an involuntary step forward. 'Gosh, you don't look at all well. I'm sorry if I've shocked you, but I've been hanging about your flat for ages, and then a neighbour told me you could usually be found down here. I thought I'd come and find you. Can I come in? Is this the famous centre?'