Now, she forgot him. A second car had appeared on the narrow road, travelling much faster than the first. The second one was larger, and black. The green one turned out of sight of the window, and in a moment would come to a standstill. She was sure that she didn’t know the man. She watched the second car with greater anxiety, because it might be the police, and she was seriously worried in case Alan had met with an accident: that seemed the obvious explanation, and it scared her. She heard the door of the green car slam, and heard the engine of the second car roar. A young man came in sight at the window, first glancing in, and then turning and looking round, as if very interested in the people behind him.

Gillian poked her fingers in her hair, took off her plastic apron and hurried with it towards the kitchen, but only just reached the doorway when the telephone bell rang again. “Damn!” she exclaimed, and screwed the apron up, flung it into a chair and missed, slammed the door on it, and hurried back to the table where she had been talking to Momty. She was a little flushed, and had no idea how attractive that made her. In fact, she did not know the magic there was in her movements and in her eyes; the kind of magic which could work a spell on young men. It appeared to be doing so on the young man from the green car, who was standing at the window and staring at her without the slightest attempt to conceal his presence or his interest. He looked startled, and his lips were parted. All she really noticed was that he had red hair, which caught a shaft of sunlight and seemed the brightest thing in sight.

She snatched up the receiver. “Hallo!” Instead of a reply, she heard the sound of a button being pressed and pennies dropping. The coppery-haired young man no longer goggled, for the black car drew up. Everything happened at once, that idiot Monty was bringing a guest, and she simply couldn’t understand what had happened to Alan.