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In a flash of temper she retorted, “I look no stranger than
you do. I couldn’t make up my mind whether you were a girl
or a boy.”
He laughed and leapt up, in one supple movement. Bending
over her, he kissed her mouth before she was aware of his
intention.
She gasped, backing away.
“Give you three guesses,” he offered wickedly.
Bright pink, she said crossly, “Don’t ever do that again!”
“Go on,” teased Sam, “you know you loved it! I bet that was
the first time you were ever kissed!”
She bit her lip in fury. Brought up in an atmosphere of
luxurious reverence, she was not accustomed to boys like
Sam. She was as sheltered as a novice from a convent
school. Sam baffled, alarmed, fascinated her.
Over the following weeks she became a fixture in the
Caulfield home. She and Kate shopped together and Pallas
bought a number of new clothes, with an eye to surprising
Sam. Jeans, bright cotton sweaters, miniskirts and flared
trousers were added to her wardrobe week by week. The
neat, Paris-made suits and dresses were pushed aside. She
flowered out into vivid colours, wild designs, and heavy,
esoteric jewellery.
Sam whistled admiringly when she arrived one day in an
emerald green dress made of silky clinging material, which
ended way above her knees, revealing long brown legs. She
looked much younger, much prettier, more alive.
‘You’re quite a little dolly,” he complimented her, and
Kate, seeing her blush scarlet, suddenly wondered if she was
wise in allowing their friendship to develop. Her family
