The Diary Of Pamela D.

It was time for Theo to take her upstairs and she waited with dread, wondering whether this one comfortable and comforting routine would be stolen from her as well.

He acknowledged her tacitly with his eyes as he stopped by the kitchen door and she hurried upstairs after him, but some inner impulse caused her to change into her bedclothes before joining him in the upstairs sitting room, and she clung to him as she had never done before.

There was an unaccustomed tension in his frame that sent needles of panic throughout her being. At last he flicked the stub of his cheroot into the fire and drained the last of his sherry. But when he led her to her room she balked, began pleading with him.

'Don't leave me alone. Please! I can't sleep. I'm afraid of waking up and finding him in my room.'

'We can't stay up all night,' he said reasonably. 'You'll have to go to sleep sometime.'

'No!' she pleaded, wincing at her own tone, which to her ears sounded like a petulant little girl. 'I don't want to be alone.'

Looking indecisive, he said, 'Well, why don't you go and crawl in beside my mother? I'm sure she wouldn't mind.'

'But I want to be with you-' she put her hands over her mouth. The words were out before she'd had a chance to think about what she said.

'You must realise,' he said carefully, 'that we can't . . . do anything.'

'I don't care,' she blurted. 'I mean, I do care. I mean, I don't want to do anything. I just want-' something inside her, though awakened, vigilant and expectant, had gone very still. 'I just want to be with you.'

He took a deep breath, studied her face carefully.

'All right,' he said at last. 'Give me a few minutes to get changed and into bed.'

As he left her and went into his room her heart began hammering uncontrollably, and she began to wonder what a discreet amount of time was. After what seemed like several minutes she went to his door and listened intently. Was that the sound of sheets being disturbed as he got into bed or was he dressing or undressing? Would his bed creak as he got into it, or would it make any sound at all? Would-

'When you're done waiting, you may come in.'

She had never really seen the inside of his room before; only occasional chance glances. It was in near darkness as she opened the door, moved inside, and closed it silently behind her. He was laying on his bed, propped up against several pillows, watching her. Like the rest of the house it was done in rich wooden panelling, which in the dark appeared somehow sinister. His furniture was very masculine; he had a bureau made from reddish, dark wood, with matching dresser and night-stands at both sides of the bedstead. The bed itself was canopied, the cover supported by four thick wooden posts. Timidly, she crossed the floor until she was standing beside his bed. He was wearing a comfortable-looking pair of pajamas which in the dim light appeared a pale wine-colour.