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was a totally different girl from the one who had first visited
them. Today she wore bright yellow jeans, an orange sweater
with Mickey Mouse appliqued on the front, and an Egyptian
enamelled pendant which gave her an Oriental look.
They danced again, not touching each other, gyrating like
strange birds performing a ritual mating ceremony. Kate
watched, grinning. The veneer of maturity had been stripped
away from Pallas, leaving her a normal teenager.
When the music ended this time, Sam hugged Pallas, in a
friendly way. “Great, kid! You can really swing!”
And she, flushed and excited, threw her arms around him.
“Oh, Sam, do you think so?”
Kate heard the door open and glanced round, casually,
expecting to see her mother. But a tall man in the doorway,
his gaze fixed icily on the two in the middle of the room, who
were too absorbed in each other to have noticed him.
Kate recognised him. It was the man under whose car she
had almost committed suicide.
Then Pallas glanced over Sam’s shoulder, froze, and
dropped her arms as if they had suddenly developed
paralysis.
Sam turned and stared curiously at the intruder, who
stared back, his thick black brows meeting over his nose.
“Well, Pallas?” he asked coolly. “Aren’t you going to
introduce me to your ... friends?” The hesitation was
deliberate, and insulting.
A flash of intuition told Kate who this man was before
Pallas spoke, and she got up nervously.
He looked round, grey eyes hard, and studied her. Forcing
herself to look calm, she looked back, and saw a man of thirty
