I’ve always wanted to write—which is not to say I’ve always wanted to be a professional writer. On the contrary, for years I only wrote for my own pleasure and it wasn’t until my husband suggested sending one of my stories to a publisher that we put several publishers’ names into a hat and pulled one out. The rest, as they say, is history. And now, one hundred and sixty-two books later, I’m literally—excuse the pun—staggered by what’s happened.

I had written all through my infant and junior years and on into my teens, the stories changing from children’s adventures to torrid gypsy passions. My mother used to gather these manuscripts up from time to time, when my bedroom became too untidy, and dispose of them! In those days, I used not to finish any of the stories and Caroline, my first published novel, was the first I’d ever completed. I was newly married then and my daughter was just a baby, and it was quite a job juggling my household chores and scribbling away in exercise books every chance I got. Not very professional, as you can imagine, but that’s the way it was.

These days, I have a bit more time to devote to my work, but that first love of writing has never changed. I can’t imagine not having a current book on the typewriter—yes, it’s my husband who transcribes everything on to the computer. He’s my partner in both life and work and I depend on his good sense more than I care to admit.

We have two grown-up children, a son and a daughter, and two almost grown-up grandchildren, Abi and Ben. My e-mail address is mystic-am@msn.com and I’d be happy to hear from any of my wonderful readers.

Impetuous Masquerade
Anne Mather

www.millsandboon.co.uk

MILLS & BOON

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Cover

About the Author

Title Page

CHAPTER ONE

CHAPTER TWO

CHAPTER THREE

CHAPTER FOUR

CHAPTER FIVE

CHAPTER SIX

CHAPTER SEVEN

CHAPTER EIGHT

CHAPTER NINE

CHAPTER TEN

CHAPTER ELEVEN

CHAPTER TWELVE

CHAPTER ONE

‘RHIA, I’ve got to see you!’

Her sister’s voice was taut with anxiety, and Rhia sighed resignedly at the prospect of yet another awkward situation Valentina wanted her help to escape from.

‘Not tonight, Val,’ she said firmly, hooking the phone between her ear and one slim shoulder as she endeavoured to go on separating the sheets of carbon from the report she had just finished typing. ‘I’ve got to stay back to take the minutes of the board meeting, and Simon’s picking me up about seven-thirty.’

‘Simon!’ Valentina’s young voice was scathing. ‘You can put him off. You know you can see him any old time!’

Rhia controlled the impulse to make some equally scathing retort, and continued pleasantly: ‘Nevertheless, the arrangement has been made, and I’d prefer it to stand.’

‘But you don’t understand!’ Valentina’s voice rose in her frustration. ‘Rhia, something awful’s happened. And—and I don’t know what I’m going to do!’

Rhia put down the carefully typed sheets and took hold of the receiver. ‘Look here, Val, you’re not a child, you know. You’re eighteen, quite old enough to handle your own problems. Just because I’m older than you are——’

‘But I rely on you, Rhia!’

Valentina’s tone broke on what sounded suspiciously like a sob, and Rhia felt the unwilling sense of responsibility her young sister invariably aroused in her. It was no use railing that it wasn’t fair; that there were only three years between her and Valentina, and that at eighteen she had had to shoulder the responsibilities of a family. Old habits die hard, and ever since their mother had been killed during an uprising in the Central African state where their father had been working, Rhia had taken her place—in Valentina’s eyes, at least. The two girls had been at boarding school at the time, and Valentina had taken the news badly. At fifteen, she had felt the bottom had dropped out of her world, and Rhia had naturally staunched her own grief to comfort her sister.

Their father had flown home to be with his daughters, but it soon became apparent that he was irked by family affairs. When Rhia agreed to abandon her hopes of going to university and found herself an office job while she took secretarial training at night school, Mr Mallory accepted another appointment in South Africa, and left Rhia in charge of the small flat he had rented in Hammersmith.

Valentina, of course, was expected to continue with her schooling, but at sixteen she had begged Rhia to let her come home, and because her father offered no objections, Rhia had had to agree.

That had been the biggest mistake she had ever made, Rhia acknowledged now. Valentina had proved impossible to control, and ignoring pleas from her sister to find regular employment had skipped from one casual job to another. She had worked in cafés and betting shops, in disco joints and wine bars, and spent a good portion of her time hanging about with a group of teenagers, whose main claim to fame seemed to be their outrageous clothes and hair-styles. Rhia had lost count of the number of times she had been called upon to mediate when some irate employer had called demanding to know her sister’s whereabouts, and she had eventually been forced to write to their father and ask him to take Valentina in hand.

The upshot of this had been that Valentina had agreed to try her hand at nursing, and six months ago she had enrolled as a student nurse at one of the local teaching hospitals. She seemed to like it, and Rhia had breathed a sigh of relief, praying that Val would learn to be more responsible. After all, she was eighteen, old enough to be regarded as an adult. She had even found herself a boy-friend, and although Rhia had never met him, she was reassured to learn that he was a student at the London School of Economics. Apparently, his name was Glyn Frazer and he was a Canadian, and although Rhia had her doubts as to how long such a relationship could last, she was glad that Valentina seemed to be settling down at last.

Yet now here she was, phoning her sister at nine-thirty in the morning, evidently in some distress over some new disaster. Rhia used the word ‘disaster’ advisedly; all Valentina’s problems seemed to assume such unnatural proportions.

‘So why do you want to see me, Val?’ she enquired now. ‘If it’s so important, tell me now. I’ll see what I can do.’

‘I can’t—that is, I can’t talk over the phone,’ insisted Valentina desperately. ‘Rhia, you’ve got to make time. I’m on duty again at eight o’clock.’

Rhia expelled her breath resignedly. So at least Val hadn’t lost her job, she reflected thankfully. Whatever it was, it was outside the hospital, and surely anything else could not be so important.

‘Val——’

‘Rhia, please——’

‘Oh, very well.’ Rhia gave in, as she generally did, she conceded to herself ruefully, and drew her dark brows together. ‘How about lunch? I could manage to get over to St Mary’s for about one o’clock, if that’s any use to you.’

‘Oh, yes. Yes!’ Valentina was fervent.

‘But don’t you have to rest?’ Even now, Rhia was still mildly suspicious. ‘I mean—if you’re on nights——’

‘Last night was my night off,’ explained Valentina hastily. ‘See you soon,’ and she rang off before Rhia could think of any more questions.

Nevertheless, that didn’t prevent her sister from spending the rest of the morning brooding over why Valentina should want to see her, and why there was such urgency about it. She couldn’t think of any reason why the younger girl should be so distressed, and as with all such probings, Rhia’s sense of foreboding grew. She couldn’t help remembering how irresponsible Valentina had been prior to taking the job at St Mary’s, and how often she had been called upon to lend her money or pay her bills or simply bail her out of some particularly difficult situation. Something had gone wrong, that much was obvious. Rhia only hoped it was nothing more than another unpaid debt.

The company for whom Rhia worked had their offices in Kensington, which meant she was within walking distance of the apartment. It was an added bonus to a job she had grown to like, and since she had become secretary to one of the company’s directors, the increase in salary had enabled her to cope with the increase in its rent. Valentina’s contribution to the apartment’s upkeep had ceased entirely, since she spent most of the week in her accommodation at the nurses’ home, and since St Mary’s was south of the Thames, there was no question of her commuting.

When Rhia left the office at lunchtime it was raining, and the seasonable downpour had filled all the buses. Deciding she might as well use the tube, she squelched her way along the High Street, and squashed on to the train that would take her to the Embankment.

It was late when she arrived at Balham, and she still had a ten-minute walk to the hospital. She guessed Valentina would be awaiting her at the gates, where they had met on the few occasions Rhia had visited the hospital, and she saw her sister’s dejected figure as soon as she turned into Morton Street.

The rain had eased a little, but it was still drizzling, and Rhia’s showerproof jacket was soaked. As, too, was her hair, she realised impatiently, wondering for the umpteenth time why she didn’t simply have it cut. It was far too long and cumbersome for a girl in her position, and it spent its days either plaited into braids, or, as today, coiled in a damp chignon at her nape.

‘Rhia!’

Valentina had seen her and came hurrying down the street towards her, a pathetic figure in her jeans and yellow anorak. Considering the difference in their ages, they were remarkably alike, thought Rhia, as the other girl approached. Both tall and fair-haired, though it was true that Valentina was the slimmer and her hair was short.

‘Thanks for coming,’ the younger girl said now, tucking her arm through Rhia’s, her pale face eloquent of the fact that this was not something Rhia could iron out in the space of a few minutes. ‘Let’s go to the pub. We can get a meat pie or a sandwich there.’

Rhia’s hesitation was scarcely noticeable, and she fell into step beside her sister without a word. She would have preferred that they had a cup of tea and a sandwich in Val’s room at the nurses’ home, where surely they could have had a more private conversation.

‘What a day!’ Valentina commented as they walked the few yards to the Crown and Anchor. ‘I was afraid you wouldn’t come. God, what a mess I’ve got myself into!’ and her voice broke again.

Rhia was concerned, but a group of people emerging from the door of the public house prevented any rejoinder, and not until they had been served with a cheese roll each and a dry Martini with soda did she get the chance to make any comment.

They managed to find a quiet corner, away from the noisy atmosphere of the bar, and although there was nowhere to sit down, Rhia insisted that it would do. ‘Come on,’ she said. ‘Whatever’s happened? You look like you haven’t slept for a week.’

Valentina drew a steady breath and took a gulp of her Martini and soda. ‘I feel like I haven’t,’ she confessed fervently. ‘Oh, Rhia, it’s just awful! Glyn’s been badly hurt!’

For a moment, an uncharitable feeling of relief swept over Rhia. So it was Glyn who was in trouble, not Val, she thought, with weak reassurance. No matter how bad it was, Val was not involved, and for that Rhia was grateful.

‘What happened?’ she asked now, able to give her sister her full sympathy now that she knew, or could guess, how Valentina was feeling. ‘How did it happen? How badly hurt is he?’

Valentina caught her breath. ‘He—he’s still unconscious. He hasn’t come round.’

Rhia frowned. ‘You mean there was an accident? Val darling, I know you’re very upset, but you’ve got to try and be a little more coherent.’

Valentina swallowed. ‘There—there was a crash, yes.’

‘A car crash?’

Valentina nodded, and Rhia’s tongue emerged to circle her dry lips. It would be futile to admit that she had worried on more than one occasion about her sister, since Val had told her Glyn had acquired a fast sports car. It had seemed such a fragile defence against any other vehicle, and she had had to steel her emotions when Val spoke of its speed and acceleration. But at least Val had not been hurt.

‘Where is he?’ she asked, and Valentina blinked.

‘Where is he?’ she echoed. ‘Why, in—in the hospital, of course. Where else would he be?’

‘But what hospital?’ persisted Rhia patiently. ‘Not St Mary’s, I’m sure.’

‘Oh, no.’ Valentina put an abstracted hand to her temple. ‘He—he’s in Jude’s. They took him there, after the accident.’ She shook her head. ‘He looked terrible. I—I thought at first that—that he was dead.’

Rhia put out a hand and squeezed her sister’s arm affectionately. ‘Poor Val, no wonder you’re in such a state. But how is he? I mean—do the doctors expect him to recover?’

‘He’s got to recover,’ exclaimed Valentina fiercely. ‘He’s just got to. I—I don’t know what I’ll do if he doesn’t!’

‘Hey …’ Rhia had never seen her sister so agitated, ‘don’t get so upset. He’ll recover, I’m sure he will. They can do such marvellous things these days.’

‘Yes.’ But Valentina didn’t sound very convinced, and Rhia sought about for something else to say.

‘When did it happen?’ she asked. ‘The accident, I mean. Why didn’t you ring me, as soon as you heard?’

‘Heard?’ Valentina looked blank.

‘Heard about the accident,’ Rhia prompted gently. ‘When did you get to know? Last night, I suppose. Have Glyn’s family been informed? I expect they must have——’

Valentina interrupted her, her eyes wild and anxious, her words falling over themselves as she struggled to get them out. ‘Oh, you don’t understand, Rhia. I know I’m explaining myself badly, but surely you’ve realised: I didn’t hear about the accident. I was there! I was with him! I was part of it. It—it was all my fault!’

Later, Rhia acknowledged that perhaps she had been a little dense in not realising that Valentina’s grief stemmed from more than the mild infatuation she had had for Glyn Frazer. She should have known that her sister’s sympathies were unlikely to be strained to this extent by anyone other than herself. It was a harsh analysis perhaps, but the truth was that Valentina had seldom shown consideration for anyone, and latterly Rhia had sensed a cooling of the relationship between her sister and her boy-friend.

Now, however, she could only stare at Valentina, scarcely comprehending the import of what she was saying, and the younger girl’s face convulsed as she struggled with her frustration.

‘Don’t you understand, Rhia?’ she cried, glancing behind her to ensure her impassioned outburst was not overheard. ‘The accident happened last night—my night off. And—and I was driving!’

‘You!’ Rhia gasped. ‘But, Val, you don’t hold a driving licence!’

Valentina cast her eyes briefly towards the ceiling. ‘Isn’t that what I’m trying to tell you? Oh, Rhia, what am I going to do? Glyn—Glyn may die, and—and I’ll be to blame!’

Rhia wished she was sitting down now. Her legs felt decidedly unsteady, and she thrust the remains of her half-eaten roll into a nearby ashtray as nausea swept up her throat.

‘Well?’ Valentina’s eyes were tear-filled and intent. ‘Can’t you say anything? Can’t you at least tell me you understand? Dear God, Rhia, if you don’t help me, no one will, and—and I’m so—I’m so scared!’

Rhia put down her glass and rubbed her unsteady hands together. Then, shaking her head, she said weakly: ‘You’ve got to give me time, Val. I haven’t taken this in yet. Right now—right now, I just don’t know what to say.’

Valentina’s lips twisted. ‘How do you think I feel? I haven’t slept, I haven’t even been to bed!’ She sniffed. ‘I walked the streets for hours. I was exhausted, but I didn’t want to go back.’

‘Wait a minute.’ Rhia halted her. ‘What do you mean, you walked the streets for hours? I thought you said Glyn was taken to hospital, after the accident.’

‘He was. I rang for the ambulance myself.’

Rhia could feel a throbbing beginning somewhere behind her temple. ‘And they didn’t ask you to accompany them? The police—I assume there were police involved—they didn’t ask for a statement?’

Valentina bent her head. ‘I—it wasn’t like that. When we had the crash, there was no one else around. Oh, I don’t know how it happened. One minute I was driving happily along this side street, and the next this cat ran across the road in front of us. Glyn said: ‘Brake’, but somehow my foot hit the accelerator, and the tyres squealed and we—we hit a lamp-post.’

‘Oh, Valentina!’

‘I know. It was awful. Glyn’s head must have hit the windscreen. He—he was covered in blood. I—I just panicked.’ Her voice broke, and then, controlling herself again, she went on: ‘I knew I had to get out of there. If—if anyone saw me, if anyone identified me——’

‘Wait a minute.’ Rhia stared at her. ‘You said you phoned for the ambulance yourself.’

‘Yes. Yes, I did. There was a phone box quite nearby. I made the call—then I ran away.’

‘Val!’ Rhia was horrified.

‘I know, I know.’ Valentina threaded shaking fingers through her damp curls. ‘But what could I have done? I’ve told you, Glyn looked so awful! I couldn’t stick around and risk the chance of being arrested!’

Rhia swallowed the rest of her Martini, trying hard to think sensibly. Then, putting the glass aside, she tried to speak calmly. ‘Val, the police are going to know someone else was driving that car——’ And as Valentina began to shake her head vigorously, she went on: ‘And, let’s face it, you are the most likely suspect. You were Glyn’s girl-friend. He had probably told his friends that he was meeting you——’

‘No, no!’ Valentina interrupted her frantically. ‘It was late. We were on our way back to the hospital. We’d taken this roundabout route so I could drive. Glyn could have dropped me; he could have been on his way back to his flat.’

‘But he hadn’t!’ exclaimed Rhia forcefully. ‘Val, face facts——’

‘No one knows that.’

Rhia shook her head. ‘You’re not being realistic. Glyn wasn’t even in the driving seat!’

Valentina bent her head. ‘They wouldn’t know that.’

‘What do you mean?’ Rhia felt sick.

‘I’ve told you, Glyn hit the windscreen. It—it was shattered. I managed to pull his legs across——’

‘Oh, God!’ Rhia gazed at her sister in growing contempt. ‘I thought you said you panicked.’

‘I did. I did.’ Valentina’s chest was heaving. ‘Rhia, you don’t know what I felt like, sitting there, in the dark, knowing Glyn could be dead!’

Rhia expelled her breath weakly. ‘You realise you could be guilty of manslaughter, don’t you?’ she cried. ‘Oh, Val, how could you? How could you?’

Valentina thrust her hands into the pockets of her anorak, and looked about her a little sullenly now. ‘It’s all right for you to talk,’ she muttered. ‘You don’t ever have these kind of problems. Your life is so—so dull! My God, Rhia, there are times when I wonder if you’ve ever even made it with anyone! Not Simon, I’m sure. Supercilious prig!’

‘Val!’ Rhia’s hand on her arm silenced her sister, but she still looked mutinous. ‘You’re not going to gain my sympathy by insulting Simon Travis. He’s been a good friend to me, and—and I’m very fond of him. I’m just wondering how he’d react to all this.’

‘You won’t tell him?’ For a moment, Valentina’s face was anxious, but then, recognising the impatience in her sister’s eyes, she relaxed again. ‘Fond,’ she muttered, as if by speaking about Rhia’s relationships, she could eliminate her own. ‘What a god-awful word to use about the man in your life!’

Rhia ignored this, concentrating on what Valentina had just told her. At least her sister had not been joking. This was more serious than any scrape Val had got herself into before. And the awful thing was, Rhia didn’t honestly know how to advise her. Oh, it was a simple enough choice between what was right and what was wrong; but as the minutes passed and logic took the place of emotion, Rhia acknowledged her own uncertainty in the face of subsequent events. What good would it do to make Val confess? Would it help Glyn’s recovery? The answer was evidently, no, and while allowing her sister to escape the justice of her culpability was wrong, if Glyn recovered, her conviction could injure both of them.

Rhia knew she was acting as devil’s advocate, that nothing could alter the fact that Val had driven Glyn’s car both illegally and carelessly; and that, if he died, she was responsible. But if he didn’t die, if he lived, what possible good could be gained from exposing her sister to the process of law? Valentina was irresponsible and reckless, but surely the experience alone would serve as sufficient punishment, and teach her never to do such a crazy thing again.

‘Do you want another drink?’

Valentina was watching her from beneath lowered lids, and Rhia shook her head. ‘No, thanks,’ she said, steadying herself for what she had to say. ‘I’ve got to be leaving soon.’

Valentina nodded, then she clutched her sister’s sleeve. ‘Rhia?’

‘How do you know Glyn’s still unconscious? Did you phone the hospital?’

‘No.’ Valentina gave a negative reply. ‘They phoned me.’

‘They phoned you?’ Rhia’s brows arched. ‘But——’

Valentina hunched her shoulders. ‘It was my handbag. I—I left my handbag in the car.’

‘Val!’

Valentina sniffed. ‘That’s why I had to see you, don’t you see? I—I want you to tell them that I spent the night at the flat.’

Rhia gulped. ‘But—why?’ She looked blank. ‘What good will that do?’

‘Glyn’s flat isn’t far from the hospital. Like I said before, he could have dropped me and been on his way back to his flat.’

‘Dropped you—at the flat?’

‘Yes.’

‘Why? Why not at the hospital?’

Valentina sighed impatiently. ‘Rhia, I’ve got to have an alibi, don’t you see? I told you what happened. I—I walked the streets for hours. I didn’t go back to the hostel until this morning. That’s when I discovered they’d been—trying to find me.’

Now Rhia understood everything. Valentina hadn’t wanted to confide in her. On the contrary, had she not made the mistake of leaving her handbag in the car, she, Rhia, might never have learned of Val’s part in the affair. But now she was cornered and, as usual, she expected Rhia to provide a solution.

‘So what did you say?’ Rhia asked now, her voice cooler than before.

‘I told them I’d been with you,’ cried Valentina fiercely. ‘What else could I say?’

Rhia was angry. ‘So all this is just academic. You’re not really asking for my help, you’re telling me I’ve got to give it.’

‘Rhia, it’s not like that.’

‘Then what is it like?’

‘Rhia, you have no idea how I felt. I had to think of something, some reason why I hadn’t spent the night at the nurses’ home. I couldn’t tell them the truth, could I?’

Rhia was appalled. ‘There are times, Val——’

‘I know, I know.’ Valentina was sulky. ‘For heaven’s sake, it’s only a little thing.’

‘A little thing?’ Rhia clenched her fists. ‘If Glyn dies, you’ll have made me an accessory to manslaughter!’

‘He won’t die——’

‘I hope not.’ Rhia took a deep breath. ‘Because if he does, Val, I have no intention of standing by and letting you get away scot-free!’

Back at her desk that afternoon, Rhia found it incredibly difficult to concentrate. Her mind buzzed with the things Valentina had told her. She could hardly believe her sister could have got herself into such a mess, and the implications were all bad. At times like this, she wondered how she and Val could have the same parents and yet be so different. It made her doubt her own assessment of her sister, and she realised that since Val left school, a gulf had opened between them that she could never bridge.

Her immediate boss, George Wyatt, was not particularly sympathetic to his secretary’s loss of concentration. He was a man in late middle age, with all the accompanying afflictions of the successful business-man: a short temper, an expanding girth, and an ulcer. Generally, he and Rhia worked together very well, she competent and independent, well able to handle clients alone, if necessary, and adept at anticipating her employer’s every whim. She attended to his engagements, pacified his wife on occasion, and handed him his tablets when his ulcer was playing up; but this afternoon she was self-absorbed and absentminded, and Mr Wyatt lost no time in giving her the edge of his impatience.

‘Rhia, are you deliberately trying to annoy me?’ he demanded, pointing to the tray on his desk. ‘I’ve asked you twice to hand me the Macdonald file, and you’ve simple ignored me!’

‘I’m sorry, Mr Wyatt.’ Rhia was flushed and apologetic. ‘I’m afraid—I—er—I’ve got a bit of a headache, that’s all.’

‘I wish that was all I had,’ retorted George Wyatt shortly. ‘This pain in my gut is tearing me to pieces, but do I complain?’

Frequently, Rhia was tempted to reply, but she merely gave a conciliatory shake of her head and tried to apply herself to his dictation. But it wasn’t easy, and later in the afternoon, checking the results of her shorthand, she hoped Mr Wyatt would not remember word for word exactly what he had said.

The board meeting was blessedly brief, and Rhia breathed a sigh of relief when she emerged from the building to find Simon’s car waiting in the staff parking area. The rain had ceased, and it was a mild April evening, the slowly illuminating lights of the city adding a sparkle to the darkening streets.

‘You’re early,’ Simon greeted her, as she slid into the seat beside him, and deposited an affectionate kiss at the corner of her mouth.

‘So are you,’ she agreed, returning his salutation warmly. ‘Thank goodness it’s Friday. I’m exhausted!’

‘You do look a little pale,’ Simon nodded, studying her features, despite the shadows of the car. ‘What’s wrong? Has Wyatt been rather tetchy again? I heard that his son was arrested for drunken driving the other evening.’

‘Did you?’ Rhia turned her face away, and moved her shoulders offhandedly. ‘Let’s go, shall we? I’m—starving!’

In truth, food was the last thing she needed, but Simon’s innocent remark had been too close for comfort. For the first time, she wondered if Valentina and Glyn had been drinking, and whether this was the reason Valentina had chosen to keep out of reach until morning.

‘By the way,’ Simon had noticed nothing amiss, ‘I’ve got tickets for the Bartok concert on Sunday. I know you said you weren’t terribly keen, but you’ll enjoy it, I know you will.’

‘Will I?’ Rhia gave him a swift appraising look. Right now, the idea of Bartok was like the idea of food—nauseating!

‘What’s the matter?’ At last Simon had detected some change in her attitude. ‘You seem—tense. Is anything wrong?’

‘No.’ Rhia forced a light laugh. ‘You know how it is. The weekend comes and you just feel like doing nothing.’

Simon frowned. ‘You’re not annoyed about Wednesday, are you? I just couldn’t get away. Those tiles in the kitchen have been impossible to match, and what with the rehearsals for the school play——’

‘Oh, no, honestly,’ Rhia hastened to reassure him. Simon took his work as a teacher very seriously, and it wasn’t his fault that his mother demanded so much of his free time. She was old, after all, and widowed, and Rhia sometimes wondered what she would do if Simon ever decided to move out. Perhaps she expected, if he got married, his wife would be prepared to move in, but Rhia knew she could never share a house with Simon’s mother. Mrs Travis was too set in her ways, too demanding, and certainly too attached to her son to allow any other woman to usurp her place in his affections.

‘You know what Mother’s like,’ Simon went on now, starting the car. ‘She hates the place to be in a mess, and the kitchen has taken longer than I expected.’

‘You have had to go to work as well,’ Rhia pointed out reasonably, glad to deflect him from her problems. ‘I think your mother forgets that.’

‘I know.’ Simon pulled out into the stream of traffic with a rueful grimace. ‘But it’s done now, and in future, we’ll be able to spend our free evenings together.’

‘Yes.’

But Rhia did not feel enthusiastic, and she had to make a determined effort to hide her misgivings as Simon rattled on about his day, and the play, and where they were going to eat that evening.

Chinese food was normally Rhia’s favourite, but this evening she only picked at her meal, pushing the chow mein round her plate in an effort to make it look less. Even so, she knew Simon had noticed, and when they were driving back to her flat, he cast her a doubtful glance.

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Impetuous Masquerade

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