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picked up her handbag and went to find Melanie.
    Richard had just come in with the car when they arrived at the garage.
    ‘I’m not late, am I? I was having lunch with Moira,’ he said, giving his hair a quick comb with a glance in the driving mirror. ‘It’s her birthday today. No, don’t get in there,’ as Rachel began to open the back door of the car, ‘there’s room for both of you in front here.’ He leaned over and opened the passenger door for her. Melanie hung back. ‘Oh, heavens, child, you’re not going to be tiresome, are you?’ he snapped impatiently.
    Rachel took her hand and got in beside her. It was obvious that Richard was not in the best of tempers.
    ‘I had wondered about taking Melanie somewhere for tea after she’s seen Miss Botham,’ she said hesitantly. ‘But if you’re in a hurry to get back I could bring the Mini, then we wouldn’t hold you up.’
    Richard had his hand on the ignition as she spoke. For a moment his eyes rested on his little daughter, then he looked at Rachel. ‘That’s a very good idea,’ he said slowly. Rachel gathered up her things and made to get out of the car. ‘No, sit still.’ He started up the engine. Suddenly he smiled at her and Rachel’s heart did a little skip, much to her consternation. ‘We’ll all go. We’ll go to the Patisserie, it’s years since I’ve been there. Would you like that, Melanie?’
    Melanie nodded, a queer, jerky little nod. Rachel could see that she was too tensed up over going to speech therapy to feel much enthusiasm for anything else. She clung tightly to the older girl’s hand all the way from Glencarrick and through Ardenbeg and as the road rose above the loch Rachel felt the tension increasing even more.
    Richard glanced at his watch. ‘We’ve no time now, but we’ll come back this way and stop at the vantage point. I’ve got binoculars with me today so you’ll be able to see right across the Kyles to the mainland.’
    ‘Kyles?’ Rachel repeated.
    ‘Narrows. Straits. Strip of water between the islands.
    Have you never heard that expression before?’
    ‘No.’ Rachel, her arm still comfortingly round Melanie, craned her neck to see what she could of her surroundings; but Melanie had her head buried and refused to look. However, as Rachel talked to her and soothed her gradually she began to relax and although she was clearly far from happy most of the tension had gone by the time they reached Dunglevin.
    Miss Botham was a large woman smothered in jangly jewellery. It was plain from her manner that she considered Melanie a waste of her time. But she went through the motions while Rachel watched and Melanie patiently and unco-operatively waited for the lesson to be over.
    ‘Not an easy child to deal with,' Miss Botham said over Melanie’s head to Rachel. ‘I think, myself, that obstinacy plays a large part in her problem.’ She sighed. ‘But I'm inclined to agree with Mr Duncan that bringing her here to me is a sheer waste of everybody’s time.’
    Rachel put her arm round Melanie. She was not going to discuss the problem in front of the child herself. ‘Thank you for trying, Miss Botham,’ was all she said.
    She led the little girl from the room. Miss Botham was right, of course, Melanie had taken the whole thing with what could only be described as utter boredom. But, and this surprised Rachel, she had shown no fear or tension in the speech therapist's presence. In fact, there was no hint of the terror she had shown at the outset of the journey. It was as if she had simply resigned herself to the inevitable. Yet, and this puzzled Rachel more than anything, what was there about Miss Botham to frighten a child, anyway? She was a perfectly ordinary—if a trifle bizarre—woman, doing a somewhat difficult job. Without, in Melanie's case, any success whatsoever.
    Richard, waiting outside, raised his eyebrows questioningly as they emerged. Rachel shook her head to indicate that she would discuss it with him