and took herself off to the kitchen to do the washing up.
The telephone rang later in the evening, and despite her misgivings Abby was obliged to answer it. Half afraid it might be Rachid, her response was reluctant, but it was Liz's apologetic tones that came over the wire.
'Don't tell me, I know,' she exclaimed, before Abby could say anything. 'You think I'm a heel, and you never want to see me again.'
'Something like that,' Abby responded stiffly, unwilling to be sympathetic, but Liz hurriedly tried to alter her opinion.
'It wasn't my fault‑' she was beginning, when Abby interrupted her, saying flatly: 'I know, Damon forced you!' with evident disbelief.
'It wasn't like that,' Liz continued, determined to be heard, and Abby expelled her breath on a sigh as the other girl explained. 'It was Damon who wrote the story,' she insisted, the words falling over themselves in their haste to be voiced. 'But he didn't get it from me. As I hear it, he had the word from the great man himself; Prince Rachid, no less, so don't blame me for betraying your confidence.'
Abby sank down weakly on to the bench beside the phone. 'Rachid told Damon that!' she whispered, appalled.
'Well, something like that,' Liz acknowledged compassionately, and Abby felt as if the last defence she had had been torn from her.
She was silent for so long that Liz said anxiously: 'Abby! Abby, are you still there? Are you all right?' And glad that her friend could not see her face, Abby assured her that she was fine.
'I—I'm glad it wasn't you, that's all,' she got out at last, feeling the prick of tears behind her eyes once more. 'Look, Liz, I've got to go. The—er—Dad's waiting for some cocoa. I'll give you a ring as I promised within the next few days.'
'Okay. If you're sure you're all right...'
'Now that Rachid's gone home, I'll feel a lot better,' Abby promised firmly, and rang off before her uneven breathing could alert the other girl to her real reaction.
Nevertheless, in her own room, she did not try to hold back the storm of tears. There was a certain relief to be found in giving way to her feelings, and by the time she dried her eyes she felt quite purged of emotion. She almost felt up to facing Rachid himself, should he choose to come looking for her again, but she silently acknowledged it was easy to feel courageous when the opportunity to prove it was unlikely to present itself.
Work, as she had told Brad, was the best remedy. She enjoyed her job as his secretary, and perhaps because she had his sympathy, he made it easier for her to forget her problems. A trip to Ireland, which had been planned for after Christmas, was brought forward, and they spent ten days visiting the refinery at Ballyvara, and staying with some friends of his in County Wexford. The climate in Ireland suited her, the mild, sometimes damp days had a gentle quality about them, and Brad's friends, the O'Malleys, were a kind and understanding couple. She didn't know what Brad had told them about her, but they treated her more like his girl-friend than his secretary, aud she hoped he was not beginning to get the wrong ideas about their relationship. It would be ironic if she had to give up her job for those reasons, just when she needed it most.
Back in London, Christmas was beginning to make itself felt. Although it was only November, there were lights along Oxford Street, and all the shops were filled with the paraphernalia of the festive season. Children thronged, starry-eyed, gazing at the displays in the shop windows, and the girls in the office chattered about dances and parties. Abby succeeded in keeping a sense of isolation at bay only with difficulty, and she waited for word from Rachid's solicitors with a mixture of pain and anticipation. Until the final steps were taken she could not relax, and she was glad when Brad suggested she accompany him on a trip up to Scotland, welcoming any excuse to escape the turmoil of her emotions.
However, on the morning
The telephone rang later in the evening, and despite her misgivings Abby was obliged to answer it. Half afraid it might be Rachid, her response was reluctant, but it was Liz's apologetic tones that came over the wire.
'Don't tell me, I know,' she exclaimed, before Abby could say anything. 'You think I'm a heel, and you never want to see me again.'
'Something like that,' Abby responded stiffly, unwilling to be sympathetic, but Liz hurriedly tried to alter her opinion.
'It wasn't my fault‑' she was beginning, when Abby interrupted her, saying flatly: 'I know, Damon forced you!' with evident disbelief.
'It wasn't like that,' Liz continued, determined to be heard, and Abby expelled her breath on a sigh as the other girl explained. 'It was Damon who wrote the story,' she insisted, the words falling over themselves in their haste to be voiced. 'But he didn't get it from me. As I hear it, he had the word from the great man himself; Prince Rachid, no less, so don't blame me for betraying your confidence.'
Abby sank down weakly on to the bench beside the phone. 'Rachid told Damon that!' she whispered, appalled.
'Well, something like that,' Liz acknowledged compassionately, and Abby felt as if the last defence she had had been torn from her.
She was silent for so long that Liz said anxiously: 'Abby! Abby, are you still there? Are you all right?' And glad that her friend could not see her face, Abby assured her that she was fine.
'I—I'm glad it wasn't you, that's all,' she got out at last, feeling the prick of tears behind her eyes once more. 'Look, Liz, I've got to go. The—er—Dad's waiting for some cocoa. I'll give you a ring as I promised within the next few days.'
'Okay. If you're sure you're all right...'
'Now that Rachid's gone home, I'll feel a lot better,' Abby promised firmly, and rang off before her uneven breathing could alert the other girl to her real reaction.
Nevertheless, in her own room, she did not try to hold back the storm of tears. There was a certain relief to be found in giving way to her feelings, and by the time she dried her eyes she felt quite purged of emotion. She almost felt up to facing Rachid himself, should he choose to come looking for her again, but she silently acknowledged it was easy to feel courageous when the opportunity to prove it was unlikely to present itself.
Work, as she had told Brad, was the best remedy. She enjoyed her job as his secretary, and perhaps because she had his sympathy, he made it easier for her to forget her problems. A trip to Ireland, which had been planned for after Christmas, was brought forward, and they spent ten days visiting the refinery at Ballyvara, and staying with some friends of his in County Wexford. The climate in Ireland suited her, the mild, sometimes damp days had a gentle quality about them, and Brad's friends, the O'Malleys, were a kind and understanding couple. She didn't know what Brad had told them about her, but they treated her more like his girl-friend than his secretary, aud she hoped he was not beginning to get the wrong ideas about their relationship. It would be ironic if she had to give up her job for those reasons, just when she needed it most.
Back in London, Christmas was beginning to make itself felt. Although it was only November, there were lights along Oxford Street, and all the shops were filled with the paraphernalia of the festive season. Children thronged, starry-eyed, gazing at the displays in the shop windows, and the girls in the office chattered about dances and parties. Abby succeeded in keeping a sense of isolation at bay only with difficulty, and she waited for word from Rachid's solicitors with a mixture of pain and anticipation. Until the final steps were taken she could not relax, and she was glad when Brad suggested she accompany him on a trip up to Scotland, welcoming any excuse to escape the turmoil of her emotions.
However, on the morning
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