Raymond lifted his glass and said: "To us, and in particular to you, Annalice. I hope you'll have some good news soon."

I felt sad because I knew he meant Philip.

"It is getting so long."

He nodded.

"It was a year last October. And only one letter since then. There must be something wrong. Philip would write because he would know how anxious we are."

Raymond was silent, staring into his glass.

"I wish I could go out there," I said. "To the South Pacific. I wish I could discover for myself..."

"Go out there!" He put down his glass. "You mean you ... go out there alone!"

"Why not? I do hate these stupid conventions which seem to imply that because one is female one is half-witted."

"I know what you mean, but it could be a hazardous journey."

"Others have gone. We have had our intrepid lady explorers. Some of them have gone into the most dangerous country."

"Do you really mean you would go?"

"It is an idea which has been in my mind for some time."

"Is that why you won't marry me?"

"I am not sure. It isn't that I don't love you. I do. But I'm not sure about being in love, which is a different thing I suppose. I think loving is probably better than being in love."

"It can be more permanent. Being in love is often transient, I believe. People fall in love easily, so why shouldn't they fall out with equal ease?"

"Do you love me or are you in love with me?"

"Both."

"Raymond, you are so good, and I am so foolish."

"No. You want to be sure. I understand."

"You are the most understanding person I have ever met. You understand about Philip, don't you?"

"Yes, I believe I do."

"I can't settle. I want to know. If something terrible has happened to him I want to find out about it. Then I might accept the situation and perhaps in time put it behind me. What I cannot endure is this uncertainty."

"That is very understandable."

"And you don't think I am being foolish in hating this inactivity so much that I want to go out and do something about it?"

"I think it is perfectly natural. I should feel the same."

"Oh, I do love you. You are so sensible."

"Thank you."

"I think I shall marry you ... in time. That is if you still want me to when I am ready."

"I shall be waiting."

I was so moved, I turned away.

He leaned towards me. "I think this stands between us," he said. "This fear of what has happened to your brother. If he came home you would be at peace, and if you knew the worst you would come to me for comfort."

"It may be that is so. I think of him almost all the time. Sometimes I think I shall never know. We have been so long without word. And I'll never be able to go and search for him. There is my grandmother. I couldn't leave her, could I? You see, it would mean both of us gone."

"It is a pity there were only two of you. If there had been a big family..."

"I have two brothers and one sister. Half brothers and sister, of course. They are in Holland."

"Yes, I remember. Your father married again."

"Granny M is so angry because he gave up maps and went into the export business." I couldn't help smiling. "She gets really angry, but I think what hurts her is that she has grandchildren in Holland whom she doesn't know."

"When you marry me you will have to leave her."

"Yes, but that is different. She is hoping I will marry you. She thinks that would be very cosy. We wouldn't be far off and she hopes for great-grandchildren. She seems rather stern but she does love children. She likes the thought of carrying on the family and all that."

"It's a great pity that you can't at least meet the rest of the family."

"They are in Amsterdam. My father writes now and then and that is all. He is completely absorbed in his new family as I suppose he would be. They are there and we are far away, and as I cost my mother her life when I was born he might remember me with pain. I know exactly how he feels."

"It is a mistake for families to be apart unless of course they can't get on together. But this seems to be a sort of drifting."

"That describes it exactly. There is no feud ... nothing like that, just a drifting."

"Now if these grandchildren were with your grandmother, your little jaunt might not be impossible."

"There would be great opposition but I could overcome that, if I thought there was someone there to comfort her."

"I am sure you would."

"Oh, I do wish Philip would come home."

"Let's drink to that," he said.

His eyes met mine over the glass, and I thought: Yes, I love him. Where else would I find someone who was so kind, so tender, so loving, so understanding.

What a fool I am, I thought.

And yet the cruel memories came flooding back. It was in a place rather like this that Ann Alice had first seen Desmond Featherstone. He had been seated at such a table. I remembered the description vividly.

Perhaps I would eventually subdue these memories.

I believed I would ... in time.

We were in February when Raymond made the announcement.

He was spending the weekend with us—a habit now for he always came except when he was at home in Buckinghamshire. He had just arrived and we were having tea in Granny M's small sitting room when he said: "I shall be going abroad in March. My father is going with me. We shall be on the Continent... France, Germany and Holland. It's a business trip which we make periodically."

"We shall miss you," said Granny M.

"How long will you be away?" I asked.

"About a month, I should think."

A month without him! I thought. Each day getting up, looking

for news of Philip which did not come, wondering, asking ourselves again and again why we had not heard.

We were beginning to accept the fact that something must have happened to him, but that did not make it any easier. If only we could know, I used to think. Then we might begin to grow away from it.

Now the prospect of a month without Raymond's company was rather depressing.

"Grace wants to come with us," went on Raymond.

"Grace!" cried Granny M.

"We ... the family ... believe it is good for a girl as well as boys to see something of the world. I think she is getting round my father. He is rather susceptible to Grace's wiles. He thinks though that she might have to be left alone a good deal... while we are engaged on business, and she would get rather bored. Now ... if she had someone with her... We thought if she had a companion ... and we were wondering if Annalice would care to come with us."

I stared at him. I felt suddenly happy. To get away ... to forget for a while ... to travel. I had always wanted to see something of the world, to visit those countries which had hitherto been only a blob of pale green or brown on our maps...

Then I thought of Granny M. I looked at her. Her face expressed nothing.

"It would be pleasant for Grace ... and for my father and me, of course. I think that if you agreed to go that would decide Grace's fate. She is very eager to hear your answer." He turned to Granny M. "You would miss Annalice very much, I know. My mother said, why don't you go and stay with them. She says it would be lovely for her to have you there. You know how she is with her garden and her recipes. She wants someone to talk to about them. She says none of us is interested."

There was silence. I dared not look at Granny M. I knew I was betraying my feelings.

"I doubt I could go away for a whole month," she said. "There is the business."

"We are leaving ours in the hands of managers," said Raymond. "Your Benjamin Darkin seems an absolute gem. I wish he were working for us. Sometimes I feel inclined to steal him."

Granny M said slowly: "I think it would be good for Annalice."

I went over to her and kissed her. I couldn't help it. "You are so good," I said. "So very good ..."

"Nonsense," she said. "Gadding about on the Continent. I don't know whether it's right for a young girl."

"I should be in good hands," I said.

Granny M said: "Go and sit down, Annalice. What will Raymond think of us?"

I could see that her eyes were too bright. She was afraid she would shed a tear. I wanted to say: "Shed them, Granny. I love you for shedding them."

There was something very calm about Raymond. He met every situation with a complete lack of surprise.

"My father has travelled extensively," he said, as though our emotional scene had not taken place. "He's always felt that it is a necessary part of business. Is it settled then? May I relieve Grace's anxiety? May I tell her that she is to have Annalice's company on the trip?"

"I suppose so," said Granny M. "But we've not had much time to think about it. What do you feel, Annalice?"

"If you could do without me for a month ..."

"What do you mean—do without you? I can manage on my own, I assure you."

"I know that, Granny. But I should worry about you."

"Why? I shall go to Buckinghamshire as I have been so kindly asked. I am sure I shall be very happy there ..."

Raymond said: "I am going home tomorrow to tell them the good news. You will enjoy it so much, Annalice. Why don't you both come down next weekend and we will make plans."

So we decided to do that.

I was so excited at the prospect that my fears for Philip faded into the background. They would not disappear completely but the best way of preventing perpetual preoccupation with them was for something like this to happen.

We were leaving in the middle of March and would be back in April. There were conferences between the two families and I came to the conclusion that Granny M was as excited about the coming trip as I was. She knew that it was the best way of taking us out of our despondency and with her inherent common sense she knew we were doing no good at all by giving way to that.

I was determined that something was going to be done about Philip. More and more I thought of going out to look for him. I would start in Sydney. Someone must know something. But how could I ever get there? A woman alone! Even this trip to the Continent had to be in the company of the Billingtons.

Raymond and I went riding one morning. I felt so much better since we had been making plans for the trip and that must be obvious.

I could talk to Raymond freely about what was on my mind and I said: "I wonder if I shall ever be able to go out and look for Philip."

"You don't think he's gone native, do you? Perhaps he has married out there and decided he can't come home."

"You never knew Philip. He would realize how worried we would be. Whatever he had done he would tell us... me at any rate."

"I believe you are still dreaming of going out to look for him."

"He said in his letter that there were some islands off the coast of Australia and that there was a ship that went out to them every Wednesday. He must have taken that ship. I would like to go to Australia, get on that ship and go to the islands. I have a feeling that I might discover something there."

Raymond was looking at me intently.

I said: "I believe you think I ought to go. You don't regard this as an impossible dream."

"No, I don't regard it as impossible, and I know you will never be at peace until you have discovered where your brother is and why there has been this long silence. I want you to be at peace. I don't think you will be happy until you know. I want you to be happy. I want you to marry me."

"Oh, Raymond, I can't tell you how happy you make me. Everything has been different since we met. And now this trip. I do believe you thought of the idea of taking Grace so that you could ask me."

He smiled. "You need to get away. You need to stop brooding. You can do no good by that."

"I know. But how can I stop it?"

"By breaking away from routine ... by making a new life. Whatever has happened to your brother, you cannot change it by fretting."

"That's why I can't sit at home thinking about it. You see we were such friends, closer than most brothers and sisters. It was probably due to the fact that our mother died. I never knew her, and he did. He remembered. Children of five do. And then there was the War of the Grannies. They both wanted us you see, my father's mother and my mother's mother. For some time Philip did not know what was to become of us. That has an effect. He thought he might be parted from me, and although I was too young to know of this, when he told me I felt all the horrors of it. There was a special bond between us. I know as sure as anything that if he were alive he would find some means of telling me. Yes, I must find him. I cannot settle to anything until I do."