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'Like him? Boy, is that an understatement!' muttered Lindsay, swinging her long legs out of the car. 'I loathe the man!' She walked round to join Aston, the light from a street lamp gleaming on her red-gold hair, and he looked down at her with appreciation, his hazel eyes very bright.
'I'm glad I don't have to worry about competition from that quarter, any way,' he admitted. 'When you kept turning me down, I did wonder if you still hankered for him. He's a good-looking guy, it wouldn't have been surprising if you had still carried a torch.'
'For Daniel Randall? Do me a favour, I have too much sense. I was too young to know what I was doing when I married him, but once I'd found out how devious he really was I lost no time in making my escape.'
Aston laughed. 'How green your eyes look at night, like an angry cat's. I wouldn't like to feel your claws!'
'As long as you realise I've got them,' said Lindsay, sliding him a wicked look from beneath her lashes.
'Oh, I'd noticed them. You made sure I did right from the start, didn't you? I was paying Randall's bill, was I?'
'I was off men then,' she agreed, shrugging, as she started to walk up the drive to the front door of the house.
'And now?' Aston asked, catching up with her after a second's pause. 'How do you feel about men now?'
Before she could answer, the front door flew open and Alice stood in the doorway with the light behind her, staring at them eagerly for a moment before the light in her eyes went out and her mouth trembled in disappointment.
'Oh, it's you, Lindsay.' It was obvious that she had thought it was Stephen returning, no doubt she had heard the car and jumped to conclusions. She was pale, her usual colour absent from her small face and her hair was ruffled and untidy. It looked as though she had flung on her clothes without thinking; her jeans were creased and shabby, her red shirt had come out of the waistband of the jeans and the top button of it was missing, her neckline giving a clear vision of her small breasts. She looked amazingly young, almost childish, and Lindsay could see she had been crying; her brown eyes were red-rimmed, her eyelids puffy.
'No word from Stephen yet?' Lindsay asked, giving her a quick kiss on the cheek, and noting the cold dampness of her skin.
Alice shook her head, then looked at Aston. 'Have you seen him?' Again that eagerness, that nervous pleading in her voice.
Aston said gently: 'No, but don't worry too much, there could be a hundred explanations of why he hasn't been in touch with you.'
Alice went back into the house and Lindsay and Aston followed her into the sitting-room. It was very untidy; toys were scattered on the floor, children's books open on the couch, a large red setter dog padded to meet them, his tongue lolling out, and barked in token threat before allowing Aston to rub his head behind those long, silky ears.
Alice watched him, her expression uncertain. She did not know Aston very well and was always very quiet in the company of someone unfamiliar to her. Shy and wary, she was more or less the same age as Lindsay but gave the impression of being much younger, perhaps because she had married Stephen only a year after leaving school and had seen very little of the world outside her home. Her first baby, Matthew, had been born only eighteen months after she and Stephen got married, and little Vicky had followed her brother just a year later. Alice hated leaving her children in the care of babysitters, even Lindsay was barely acceptable to her as a mother-substitute, it was on very rare occasions that Alice allowed Lindsay to take over from her. Most nights, Alice and Stephen stayed at home together, listening to music, watching TV or reading. Alice was very far from being an outgoing girl, and Lindsay could see that Aston's arrival had disconcerted her.
'Why don't we make some coffee?' Lindsay suggested, and her sister-in-law looked at her gratefully. 'Like some, Aston?' Lindsay asked, and Aston looked round, smiling, still playing with the dog.
'I'd love a cup of coffee.'
'We won't be a minute, clear a space on the couch and sit down.'
Alice looked embarrassed. 'I'm afraid the place is very untidy, I haven't had time to . . .'
'Doesn't matter, it looks cosy and lived-in,' said Aston, giving her a comforting smile. As Alice hurried out of the room, Lindsay gave him a wry grimace.
'I'm not famous for my tact, I should have realised she'd be touchy about the way the room looks, but with small kids around nobody can keep a house tidy for long.'
'Go and talk to her,' Aston skid. 'She looks as though she's in the middle of a bad trauma.'
'Yes,' Lindsay agreed, sighing. 'I wonder what on earth has been happening?'
'Marriage,' said Aston drily, and she made another face.
'Oh, yes—why do we do it?'
She found Alice in the kitchen laying out cups with a dull expression, her movements slow. Lindsay watched her with compassion and uneasiness. What had gone wrong between her and Stephen?
'What was he like yesterday morning?' she asked, and Alice jumped, looking over her shoulder with open distress.
'What? Oh, Stephen, you mean?'
'Who else? Weren't you thinking about him?'
'I was wishing I knew what to do—I feel so helpless, not knowing where he is or what's happening to him. How can he do this to me?' The cry broke out of her suddenly, her voice rising, and her body trembled, she caught hold of the back of a chair and leaned on it, her head hanging down.
