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  'Oh, Grandpa!' She sank down beside him on to the chair the nurse had vacated, laid her young hand over his pitifully thin one, and couldn't say another thing.

  'Nell ...' It was the merest thread of sound, and the shrunken hand beneath hers moved a fraction.

  She gripped it more tightly, fighting against tears. 'For God's sake don't cry,' the Colonel managed in a fierce whisper. A flicker of a smile crossed his worn face. 'Had enough of that from Elizabeth!'

  'Oh, Grandpa!' She raised his hand gently and held it against her cheek, and the nurse rustled watchfully in the background. 'Don't talk. I'll just sit with you for as long as they'll let me.'

  All the bitterness of the last five years had blown away before the overwhelming fact that this was the person she had once loved best in the world, and looking at him now she was convinced he hadn't long to live. Five minutes was all the Sister in charge allowed her. Back in the waiting-room, Nell blew her nose and asked Elizabeth what she planned to do now.

  'Stay until teatime, but you'd better go back to the house. You look fagged out.' For the first time her manner became a little less chilly. 'And you too, Philip. I've caused you quite enough inconvenience.'

  'Nonsense, Elizabeth. I'll stay if you want me to.'

  When she insisted that he leave, he offered to return for her later. 'Please don't bother. I'll get a taxi, or if Nell went with you I could borrow her car.'

  It seemed the obvious solution, so Nell didn't like to demur. Ten minutes later Philip Trent and she were heading south away from Barnslow and into the Shropshire hills. He made no attempt to break the silence between them. When Nell felt she couldn't bear it any longer she tried a friendly gesture.

  'Aunt Elizabeth was right—we are putting you to a lot of trouble.'

  'Of course you're not. I look on your grandfather and Elizabeth as very good friends.'

  'Where do you live, Mr Trent?' she asked.

  'You can see my chimneys from the top floor of your grandfather's house.' He turned his head for a moment and gave her a faint smile. At her puzzled expression he added quietly, 'There've been a good many changes since you were here last.'

  Disquieted by his words, Nell asked him what he meant. 'Has Grandpa been cutting down trees?' But even then the only houses in view would be farmworkers' cottages. Mr Trent, with his elegant clothes and unmistakable air of affluence, couldn't live in one of those.

  'I bought some land from your grandfather,' he said casually. 'I liked this area, but I couldn't find just what I wanted, so I built my own house.'

  The idea of a modern building within sight of the centuries-old manor house upset Nell deeply. What could have happened to her grandfather, to make him part with even an acre of his beloved land?

  'Don't worry. You can only just see my place from the attics.' He was openly amused by her reaction.

  She stared out of the window at the familiar shape of the Long Mynd, looming dark and forbidding on this grey January day. Changes there might be, but the hills were eternal, the countryside as beautiful. When they turned off the A-road into the familiar lanes of her childhood, walked and ridden over so many times, Nell felt a lump in her throat, it was so good to be back. Then they were into Lanmore village with its Norman church and its single store, out again in seconds, and a minute or two later driving past the sign that said 'Lanmore Manor only. No through road.'

  The home farm lay at the head of the lane, looking in better condition than when Nell had last seen it. She craned her neck to study two new buildings that hadn't been there before. 'Do you know when Grandpa put those up? When I left he was cutting back on the farm.'

  There had been endless trouble trying to find a good manager once the old one had retired, and Aunt Elizabeth had been in favour of reducing the livestock.

  'I put them up, not your grandfather,' and at her astonished stare, 'I told you there'd been changes. Haven't you kept in touch at all?'

  She had kept in touch for a time with childhood friends, but in the way of it they had drifted apart, first the letters reduced to Christmas cards, latterly nothing. 'Do you mean you—you've gone into partnership with Grandpa?' She waited anxiously for his reply, which was a moment or two in coming.

  'My dear girl, can you see the old man in partnership with anybody?' He smiled rather grimly at the idea. 'No, I bought the farm from him. I think he was glad to get rid of it.'

  Lanmore Manor had belonged to Whiteheads since Elizabethan times. The Colonel had a fierce pride of possession, an intense love of the land. Nell swallowed and said in a small voice, 'How could he be glad to get rid of it? He loved it so.'

  In a more kindly tone than he had used to her until now, he tried to explain. 'So many of these old estates have fallen on hard times. Death duties over the generations, the rising cost of maintenance, soaring wages. If he'd had a son I suppose he'd have hung on somehow, but he didn't think it was worth it. Neither you or your aunt could possibly have run the place at a profit.'

  They had reached the end of the park now and were running between rhododendron bushes, which had grown out of hand since Nell had last seen them. Then they rounded a bend and there was the house, built in the early years of Elizabeth's reign. At least that looked the same, thought Nell thankfully, as Philip Trent drew up on the forecourt near the great front door. She took him up on his last remark before she got out of the car.

  'If Grandpa couldn't make a profit on the farm how can you?'

  He switched off the ignition, removed his driving gloves and turned to face her. 'I don't,' he said, 'though I hope to some day. At the moment the farm's more a hobby than a business venture.'

  A man who could afford to run two thousand acres without profit and yet keep it in such excellent repair, must be very rich indeed. Nell wondered what his real work was, if in fact he did work, but didn't like to ask. A property developer perhaps? The thought was appalling. Good manners made her invite him in, but she was relieved when he shook his head.

  'Thank you, but I've a lot to do.'

  At such close quarters she was very conscious of his looks. Thick dark hair and alert grey eyes. Eyes which seemed to sum her up and find her wanting, to make her ill at ease and awkward.

  'Goodbye then,' she said stiffly. As she was getting out of the car the front door opened and Miss Black, who had been the housekeeper for as long as Nell could remember, stood there expectantly, a query on her face.

  'Blackie! Grandpa's no worse, but he's still critically ill Oh, Blackie, it's good to see you!'

  The housekeeper's anxious expression changed to one of pleasure. 'You too, Nell dear. I'm so glad you've come home.'

  What a contrast to Elizabeth's welcome! Nell gave the old woman a hug, and they clung together for a moment. Then she became aware of Mr Trent, who had taken her suitcase from the boot, standing beside them and watching this touching scene impassively.

  'Thank you,' she said hastily, disengaging herself from Blackie's embrace.

  'I'll carry it in for you.'

  'No-need—I can manage.' She snatched up her suitcase and with a shrug he turned away.

  'Wouldn't he like a cup of tea?' Blackie asked.

  'He said he wanted to get off.' They watched the blue Aston Martin disappear round a bend in the drive, then went into the house. Nell stared around her at the oak-panelled hall with the stuffed deer's heads she had always hated, and the portraits of Whitehead ancestors about whom she had made up so many stories as a child.

  'Thank goodness this is the same,' she muttered. 'Who is Mr Trent, Blackie, and why did Grandpa sell him the farm?'

  'Because he needed the money,' Blackie said with devastating directness. 'You don't think he would have parted with it for any other reason, do you?'

  'But couldn't he have found someone—well, nicer—to be such a near neighbour?'

  'Mr Trent made him a very generous offer,' said Blackie with a touch of dryness. 'The Colonel wasn't in a position to refuse. Besides, it's turned out very well. We all like him
, even your grandfather, once he got used to a stranger on his land.'

  'Then he must have mellowed in the last few years!'

  'Not really. Just got too old and tired to care.' Blackie herself bore die marks of increasing years. She wore spectacles now and her white hair was less abundant, and —'You're thinner, I think,' said Nell.

  'Yes, I suppose I am, but more healthy at my age, don't you think? And are you really a doctor? It's hard to credit it.'

  Later they had tea in the housekeeper's room, where Nell had always been welcome as a child, and which was far cosier than the family's rooms. She curled up in the big armchair by the fire, while Blackie chose her favourite straight-backed one, saying that it was easier to get out of, for she was stiffer than ever these days. She brought Nell up to date on local affairs and the changes on the estate. Mr Trent was not a property developer. He was a business man, whose headquarters were in London, though he was planning to move them to the West Midlands as soon as possible.

  'What sort of business?' asked Nell.

  'Engineering, I think,' Blackie said vaguely. 'Your aunt will know if you're interested. They're very friendly.'

  'So I've noticed. I hope he's not often around?'

  Blackie's lips pursed. 'Quite often, and what's wrong with that? He drops in to play chess with your grandfather. He entertains a good deal too. In fact you might say that he's quite a leading member of local society.'

  'I don't doubt it, with all that money,' said Nell with unusual cynicism. The man had an irritating air of assurance about him, a cool authority that would probably have put her back up, even if they hadn't exchanged those sharp remarks when they first met.

  'Oh no, dear,' Blackie said firmly. 'It's not just his money, though they do say he has plenty of it. Mr Trent's a gentleman, anyone can see that.'

  'Yes, I suppose he is. For goodness' sake, can't we talk about something more interesting?'

  'No need to snap at me,' Blackie reproved, just as she might have spoken to the young Nell many years ago. 'It was you who wanted to know about Mr Trent, after all.'

  Elizabeth Whitehead came home shortly after five, with the news that her father was showing signs of recovery. 'I talked to the heart specialist and for the first time they're hopeful. But it is no more than that—only a chance.'

  Nell was thankful that her aunt showed no inclination to be sociable. They were not at ease with each other. They had never been close, and the five years they had been apart were difficult to bridge. So it was a relief when Elizabeth announced that she was going to have a bath and get into bed, for she had been on the go since five o'clock that morning.

  'If I could have something light on a tray, Blackie, Nell can bring it up.'

  In the old days there had been a living-in maid. Now Blackie managed with a girl from the village. When she had taken her aunt's supper up to the bedroom, Nell climbed the narrow stairs to what had once been the servants' bedrooms. Even in her childhood most of the rooms had been empty, and she had played in them with her friends, when the weather had been too bad to go outside. She went into the end room, which had always been her favourite, crossed to the window and looked out across the park. In the distance, perhaps half a mile away, lights twinkled from behind a belt of trees.

  Philip Trent's house! In the morning she would have a closer look at it. Now it was time to join Blackie for supper. She went slowly downstairs, her thoughts with her grandfather, praying that his recovery would be maintained, and that he would still be alive in the morning.

  CHAPTER TWO

  Nell woke at seven, and finding it difficult to settle decided to telephone die hospital. She padded downstairs through the cold dark house and used the line in her grandfather's study, so that she wouldn't wake the other two women. When the switchboard man learnt that she was a doctor, he put her on to the night superintendent.

  The news was good. Colonel Whitehead's general condition was much improved, his blood pressure rising again, his pulse rate slowing. Nell listened carefully to the medical details, thanked the superintendent and went into the kitchen to make herself some coffee. It was the original old kitchen, though it had been modernised some forty years ago—shabby but comfortable, with a solid fuel Aga. The two Labradors, who slept by the stove, left their baskets to greet her, both young dogs, descended from Honey, whom Nell had adored in her childhood.

  When she had drunk her coffee and eaten two slices of toast, the first pale light of the winter morning was brightening the sky. She felt too restless to go back to bed, so she pulled on thick clothes and a pair of gumboots, and set out across the park in the direction of Philip Trent's house. The Labradors went with her, friends already after only a few hours' acquaintance, tails waving their pleasure at this unexpected outing.

  The air had a bite to it although there was no wind. Nell dug her hands deep into the pockets of her old duffle coat, for she had forgotten her gloves. She reached the copse behind which she thought Mr Trent's house must lie, and climbed the stile into the little wood, to follow a narrow twisting path which ended at a second stile. There she stopped and stared for a long time at what had once been open fields, sloping down to the river on her right.

  She had to admit that the house looked surprisingly mellow, not brick as she had feared, but built of the local stone—a long low building, looking not unlike a prosperous farmhouse, which she supposed it was, even if Mr Trent was only a part time farmer. The bulk of the gardens lay behind the house, between it and the wood, and again they looked remarkably mature, with evergreen trees and shrubs attractively disposed, and more formal beds close to the house. Ranger's ears pricked suddenly and he gave a low growl. Seconds later Nell heard a horse's hooves, coming from the direction of the river.

  The house was still in darkness, but someone was up, perhaps a farm worker. Not wanting to be seen, she walked quickly back through the copse, calling to the dogs. Ranger loped after her, but Paddy, who had found a gap into the field at the bottom of the garden, seemed to be having trouble in returning. He barked to draw her attention to his plight, then relapsed into an insistent whine. The horse's hooves sounded nearer. Nell ran back and found Paddy stuck halfway through the hedge.

  'You're too fat,' she told him crossly. 'Come on, boy! Come on!'

  Tugging at his collar brought it off in Nell's hand, and Paddy managed to extricate himself backwards, just as the horseman came round the corner of the wood. It was Philip Trent, riding a fine chestnut mare. It would be, thought Nell, discomfited at being caught spying out the land.

  His eyebrows went up when he saw her. 'Hallo! You're an early bird!'

  'So are you!' she retorted crossly. 'This was always one of my favourite walks.'

  At this gratuitous piece of information, which was not even true, he smiled and dismounted. 'Really?' The smile was disbelieving. 'Sure you weren't just indulging your curiosity? Understandable under the circumstances,' he added quite kindly. 'And how's the old man? Did you ring the hospital before you came out?'

  'Better,' Nell said briefly. Patronising beast! She glared at him, taking in the polo-necked Fair Isle sweater and the immaculate fawn breeches, which must have cost a small fortune. Her temper wasn't improved by the fact that beside his casual elegance she felt positively dowdy in the old duffle coat, which was a left-over from her schooldays, and the green knitted cap which she had found on a peg in the cloakroom. It was a size too large for her and kept slipping down on her forehead. She pushed it back, and a strand of brown hair came loose, falling into her eyes. While she was fiddling with it Philip Trent lifted up Paddy with surprising ease and manoeuvred him over the stile. Then he turned his attention to Nell.

  'Allow me.' He brushed the hair out of her eyes and tucked it under the old green cap, for all the world as if she was child. Then he stood back to study her, that maddening smile hovering round his lips. 'I find it hard to believe you're a qualified doctor. You look about sixteen in that get-up!'

  Nell kicked at a pile of fallen lea
ves with her gumboot, for all the world as if she was still a child. Something about this man made her feel a gauche immature schoolgirl again, an unaccustomed feeling that did nothing to endear him to her. 'Do I?'

  Her cool tone had no effect. 'I expect you look different when you're on duty. Women doctors can be alarmingly efficient.'

  His choice of words suggested to Nell that he was of the same breed as her grandfather, old-fashioned in his outlook on her sex, with less excuse since he couldn't be more than forty. Considerably less, she amended. A few years younger than her aunt probably, who was only just thirty-nine. Yesterday she had thought him older, but now in the clear morning light, he looked about the same age as some of the registrars at her hospital.

  'Well?' he asked casually, gesturing towards his house. 'What do you think of it?'

  She would have liked to deflate him with a critical remark, but being an honest girl, she spoke the truth, after only a moment's hesitation. It's better than I expected. New houses can be such terrible eyesores. And your garden's lovely. Not too formal, not just a jungle. Like ours,' she added ruefully.

  He looked pleased and surprised. 'Praise indeed,' he said wryly. 'I quite expected you to damn it entirely. I'm not too fond of old houses myself, having been brought up in one. Woodworm and dry rot and leaking roofs! You can have them!'

  The practical sort of attitude a man like him would have. Nell stooped to fasten Paddy's collar again. 'Keep still, you stupid dog! Your horse will wander, Mr Trent.'

  'No, she won't. She's well trained. And couldn't you drop the formality, Nell?' Her name came easily from his lips. 'We're neighbours after all, and bound to see a good deal of each other. That is if you're staying?'

  'I shall stay as long as Grandpa wants me to.'

  'And that might be longer than any of us expected,' he said quietly. 'I'm so glad there's an improvement.' There was no doubt that he was sincerely concerned about the Colonel, and he had certainly been both kind and helpful to Elizabeth. Nell looked at him with more tolerant eyes, wondering if she had judged him too hastily.