Simon was absolutely his charming, easy-going self once more; the perfect host, the amusing companion. But Alison knew that, after that scene at the dance, she could never look at him with quite the same eyes again, and she thought now:

‘When he is quiet, it’s like the quiet of the sea-dark and still and, somehow, a little menacing.’

She scolded herself for a fanciful little fool because she was vaguely alarmed to find that Julian’s room was the full length of the passage from hers. She never remembered being nervous like this before, and it made her feel annoyed and ashamed.

‘You’ve changed the rooms round a bit, haven’t you?’ Julian said, looking round. ‘I don’t remember ever having seen this one before.’

‘Yes. This is Simon’s room, really,’ Jennifer explained. ‘But for some reason or other he changed only this week.’

‘I like change.’ Simon said carelessly ‘You get into one mood and one groove of thought if you always stay in one place.’

‘Really, Simon’-Jennifer looked surprised-’I’ve never heard you talk like that about moods before.’

‘No?’ her brother smiled. ‘But the idea is a sound one.’

‘And which is your room now?’ Alison asked, rather as though she couldn’t help it.

Simon didn’t answer at once, but he looked at her a little strangely, she thought Or was that her fancy too?

‘He has the room at the other end of the passage now,’ Jennifer answered for him. ‘The one opposite the rose room-your room, you know.’

‘Oh, I see,’ Alison said. And for one ridiculous, incredible moment she wanted to cling to Julian and say, ‘Take me home. Please take me home.’

The utterly illogical access of nerves passed, of course, and, later that evening, she wondered what on earth could have possessed her to make her feel like that.

An admirably cooked meal was served by the woman who-with her husband-did all the work of the house. And then they all four sat round the fire.

Alison sat quite still staring into the flickering fire, with a growing feeling of half-superstitious dread, while the others went on talking.

She didn’t like the cottage, she told herself. She didn’t like the owner Above all, she didn’t want to sleep alone- not in that beautiful rose-filled room, just across the narrow passage from Simon’s room.

It was ridiculous, of course. There was actually nothing concrete at all that could happen The whole thing was completely illogical But then fear never was logical. That was the worst of it-you couldn’t argue with it.

‘Alison’s half asleep,’ declared Jennifer. ‘And no wonder. Look at the time.’

She began to murmur a protest but Julian got up at once, and she had no choice, but to follow suit He kissed her good night quite calmly under the eyes of the other two. Jennifer scarcely appeared to notice but even without looking at him, Alison knew that Simon’s dark eyes were smouldering with that strange inner fire that was frightening.

How dare he! she thought angrily as she went upstairs with Jennifer. What business was it of his how Julian kissed her-or indeed; if he kissed her at all?

Alone in her room she undressed quickly, but she didn’t get into bed. She crouched down on the rug by the fire, and listened to the rising wind moaning round the house.

Presently she heard the two men come upstairs, and there was the sound of Julian’s door closing. She couldn’t hear that Simon shut his door but then. of course perhaps it closed quietly. Or perhaps he preferred to sleep with his door open. It was an ordinary enough thing to do. But somehow she hated the thought of Simon’s door half open- just opposite hers.

The wind came again, shaking the windows and lifting the little chintz curtains. so that the roses seemed to be swaying to and fro. A few drops of rain found their way down the wide cottage chimney and fell hissing into the flames. Alison drew her wrap more tightly round her and shivered a little.

By now she scarcely knew what she feared-the night, or Simon, of the wind, or just being alone, The strange, inexplicable sounds which disturb the night in any old house began to force themselves on her strained attention, and the loud beating of her own heart sounded like a drum.

She began to think of the passage outside her door. It was not so long, really. She could reach Julian’s room in a few seconds-if she ran. And her slippers would make no sound on the thick carpet.

Slowly and a little stiffly Alison got to her feet. She put out the light, and stood there for a minute in the glow from the fire, before she went over and softly, softly began to open her door.

The firelight from her room showed her that Simon’s door was half open. It appeared to her to yawn darkly, and for a moment she thought she could not pass it.

Then she was out in the passage.

She took one step, and a board creaked ominously. She held her breath. It seemed to her that there was another sound from somewhere-she could not have said where. And in sudden, unreasoning panic she fled along the passage, silently, breathlessly, not even pausing to think.

Julian’s door was before her, clear in the moonlight from the landing window. Scarcely bothering about silence now, she opened the door, slipped in, and closed it behind her.

And then, for the first time, as she stood there in the darkness, she felt utterly and absolutely safe.

‘Julian,’ she said. ‘Julian.’ She was surprised to hear how her voice shook.

She heard him give a smothered, sleepy exclamation, ‘Is that you, Alison? What’s the matter, child?’ And then the shaded light by his bed was switched on.

Alison came over slowly and stood there a little awkwardly in the circle of light, watching him as he mechanically smoothed his hand over his hair.

‘What is it, Alison?’ he said again, and she didn’t think he sounded overwhelmingly pleased.

‘I-I’m frightened,’ she stammered ridiculously.

‘Frightened?’ he repeated in astonishment. And then something in her white face and big scared eyes seemed to reach him. He leaned out of bed without a word, and calmly lifted her in beside him.

‘Is that better?’ He drew her close, and she gave a great sigh of relief, which somehow became a sob instead.

‘Hush, you poor baby.’ He pressed his cheek against her hair. ‘Why didn’t you come to me before? How your poor little heart is beating.’ His hand was against her heart, and she thought it must surely stop beating with the sweetness of his touch.

‘I’m all right now,’ she whispered.

‘Sure? Shall I put out the light, or do you want it?’

‘Oh, no, I don’t want it now, thank you.’

He stretched out his hand and put out the light.

She lay close against him, warm and safe and utterly content. Somewhere she could hear a door swinging in the wind. Simon’s door, no doubt, but it held no terrors for her now.

Presently she heard someone go and close it quietly. And that was the last thing she heard.

When she woke next morning, she was in her own bed in her own room, very carefully and securely tucked up like a baby. Julian must have brought her along and tucked her in like this. It made her laugh a little, but it made her feel very happy too. He had such funny, dear, careful ways with her, even if he didn’t-

Then she stopped abruptly. She wouldn’t follow out that line of thought. It didn’t lead anywhere and only made her miserable.

It was still fairly early, but the sun was shining so brightly that she decided to get up. She bathed and dressed quickly; then, slipping on a thick coat; she ran quietly downstairs and let herself out of the front door.

When they had arrived the previous afternoon it had been too dark to take in much. But now she saw that a big garden stretched on either side of the house, and at the back it sloped away downhill to a chattering stream.