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When he had gone, Sonya said to Sven: 'Did you persuade my father to change his will? Originally you told me you wouldn't touch his money.'

'I did nothing of the sort!' Sven was angry. 'I never did want his money, and I wish he had not left me anything.'

Sonya refused to be convinced. 'I can't believe anything you say after you gulled me over your nationality.'

Sven restrained himself with an effort, reminding himself that she was not yet recovered.

'Don't you think you should go on with your skating?' he suggested gently. 'It will take your mind off your trouble, and time is getting short.'

Sonya had forgotten about it, but now she realised with a feeling of release that she never need skate any more. The reason for winning championships was gone and she was free.

'I shall never skate again,' she declared.

Sven was not a patient man and Sonya's unreasonableness had strained his forbearance to its limit. It was over a week since her father had been buried and it was time she attempted to rouse herself. He said firmly:

'You will come to the rink next Monday morning.'

'I shall not!' she flashed. Defiance turned to pleading. 'Can't you understand, Sven, I did it all for Daddy. Now he's gone, there's no meaning in it. I want to give it up.'

'What about me?' he asked. 'Don't I deserve some consideration? You consented to be my partner, we have put weeks of hard work into the pair. Is it all to be wasted for a foolish whim?'

'Foolish whim! It's much more than that. I can't go on without Daddy. His encouragement, his sympathy and understanding cushioned me against your bullying.' She was remembering the many times when she had resented Sven's domination, and had only accepted it as a means to achieve her father's goal. 'Now I'll
have no one to defend me.'

Sven's fine face became like stone and his eyes cold as ice at this unjust accusation.

'So you need a defence against me, your husband?' he asked bitterly. 'I have tried to be patient with you, but by God, this is a bit too much I' And then he said the unforgivable. 'I had hoped I could take your father's place.'

'You can't ever!' Sonya cried wildly, feeling her
j
loyalty to Eliot's memory threatened. 'You've never treated me like a human being, only like a puppet on skates, to be manipulated as you pleased.'

'It is no use talking to you while you are in this hysterical state,' he told her sternly. 'But the skating cannot wait. If you insist you are not going on with it, and the time is too short for shilly-shallying, I must find another partner.'

'Yes, you do that,' she agreed.

'You really mean it?' he asked sadly. 'We did so well together.' Then his face hardened. 'If it is all the same to you I would prefer to return to my old flat while I am training. It would be less distracting.'

Sonya had not expected that, and she stared at him a little blankly, while she faltered: 'Leave this house? But it's jointly yours, Sven,
I...
I can't turn you out.'

'It has no attraction for me while my wife locks her bedroom door against me.'

Sonya's eyes dropped before his reproachful gaze. It was true that she had locked her door, though she did not believe Sven would force himself upon her. Her action had been psychological, turning the key upon the guilt she had felt for her neglect before Eliot died. But of course Sven did not understand that she did feel
guilty. She twisted her hands together.

'It... it's too soon,' she whispered. 'I'm still shocked. If you really loved me you'd understand.'

Sven's lip curled derisively.

'Understand what? That you have submerged yourself in a welter of mawkish sentimentality, refusing to face up to reality, and that you have scorned the comfort that I have offered to you? I have taken all I can, Sonya, so I am getting out. As you have no use for me as a husband or a skating partner, I will leave you to wallow in your memories in peace.'

Sonya wilted under these recriminations, which though in part true she felt she did not wholly deserve. All she wanted was time to adjust, and if he had been kinder she might even have reconsidered the skating. She said faintly, 'But we're married.'

'Only in name; since our marriage has not been consummated, it can be annulled. I believe that was originally your own suggestion. We will write it off as an unfortunate mistake.'

Sonya had not expected such a drastic repudiation. Somewhere deep inside her, a warning voice was telling her that if she let Sven go now she would lose him and she would bitterly regret his loss. He was all she had left, and his departure would leave an unfillable gap. But pride sealed her lips. If Sven wanted to go she would not try to stop him. If he had really loved her, he would never desert her, trying though she had been, but he had never said he loved her, and he was concerned about his International entry, that was far more important to him than Sonya Vincent.

'I agree with you entirely,' she said, controlling her trembling lips with an effort. 'And I wish you luck with your new partner.' A sudden passionate regret swept over her. Those moments on the rink when they had been as one, their periods of rare communion as when they had planned the alterations to the sitting room, alterations which would never be done now. Because she was in pain, she tried to hit back. 'You haven't done so badly out of me,' she went on. 'Tell the truth, Sven, you married me because I would inherit money, and now you've got a share and sooner than you expected, you're ready to walk out. Daddy never foresaw that we would part. Well, you're welcome to it so long as you don't bother me.'

Sven's face contorted with anger. He moved towards her, his eyes glittering; he looked capable of any violence and as his hands clamped down on her shoulders, she quivered at his touch. Then before the blaze of fury in his face, she shrank away her eyes wide with fear.

'Please don't touch me,' she cried. 'I can't bear it!'

His expression became blank and he dropped his hands, his mouth curled in a cruel little smile.

'You are quite right, your money was the inducement to wed you,' he said icily. 'Why else should I have bound myself to a silly, neurotic child?' He laughed, and it was not a pleasant sound. 'Having obtained what I was after, I will rid you of my obnoxious presence with relief. Goodbye, Sonya.'

He went swiftly out of the room, closing the door with finality. Sonya sank down on the couch shaking with outrage. So her instinct had been correct, he had been motivated throughout by avarice and she had been an idiot to yield to him. She was still sitting there when she heard the sound of departure—Sven and Matheson's voice on the stairs, the opening and closing of the front door. She ran into the dining room which overlooked the drive and saw Matheson stowing Sven's cases in the boot. Sven opening his notecase, clad in his leather coat, looked carefree and debonair as if he had cast off a burden. He took out some notes which he handed to the other man, who bowed his head as if in acknowledgement of some instructions. He was gazing in admiration at his new master and Sonya thought bitterly that even her servants were suborned by him. He had an easy charm with his dependants which won their hearts. Convulsively her fingers clutched the curtain which concealed her presence. They did not know him as she did, mercenary, selfish, vain, caring only about success on the rink. Matheson opened the driver's door and Sven swung himself into the car. He raised his hand in salute, and the car slid away. He did not look at the windows of the house.

He had gone, and Sonya was free as she had never been free in all her short life. Even the obligation to skate had been lifted from her. She could do absolutely anything she wanted to do with no one to criticise or restrain her. She felt a moment's elation which was quenched by a creeping desolation. She was free, but she was utterly alone. She would have given anything to see Sven driving back to her.

Gradually
Sonya adjusted to her father's loss. The house seemed very quiet without him or Sven, and she lived from day to day in uninterrupted solitude, for no one came to see her and she felt no desire to seek others' company. The Mathesons continued to run the house as they had always done and she had nothing to do except ramble on the Heath with Tessa, which she did in all weathers. The exercise and fresh air did much to restore her, and her obsession with Eliot faded. She moved back into her own room, and her thoughts turned towards Sven, and not only did she begin to miss him very badly, but she also missed the hours spent on the skating rink, which no longer seemed an imposition, but moments of exhilaration when she had worked with Sven, but only with him; skating as a recreation had never greatly appealed to her. Once she rang the club and asked for Jan. Was Sven there? she enquired, and waited with bated breath for his reply. If only Sven would come to the phone she could hear his voice even if he upbraided her. But Jan told her Mynheer Petersen no longer used the rink, and he became vociferous in lamentations. They had been such a beautiful pair, the last competition skaters he would ever train, as he was going to retire on her father's bounty. What had happened, why had they given up? Sven had given him no good reason for desisting.

'I went to pieces when Daddy died,' Sonya told him frankly. 'Sven has got another partner and must be training somewhere else.'

She wished afterwards that she had not rung. So long as she had believed Sven was still going to the club, he had not seemed quite lost. Now she neither knew where he was working or where he was living. He had never given her the address of his flat. She went into the bedroom which they had been going to share, which she had not entered since that night. She had asked Katie to remove the rest of her belongings and Sven had taken his. It was cold and dreary. Sitting on the bed, she remembered how Sven had held her and ministered to her in the first shock of her grief, treating her with a tenderness she had not appreciated, although he must have been feeling frustrated and cheated. He had shown the utmost gentleness, a side to his character with which she was unfamiliar, but, absorbed in her selfish grief, she had not responded and he must have found her a great trial during the days that followed.

Feeling ashamed of her conduct, she reminded herself that Sven had admitted he had married her for her expectations, as she had always secretly feared, and that he had no real love for her at all. Even so, she wanted him back, and the craving for his presence increased as the spring days lengthened. His final indictment was burned on her memory: a silly neurotic, child. Exasperation had conquered his usual courtesy. Having no vanity, she supposed she could only expect to acquire an attractive husband by reason of her money, and if she had to buy a man she would prefer to purchase one she desired. But even a bought husband resented being expected to play second fiddle to her father. Sven had some cause for grievance. He had awakened her latent femininity, but her emotions were centred upon himself, and now he had left her she was learning the depth of her love for him, love that had been temporarily eclipsed by the shock of her father's death. He had gone, and she could not bring herself to try to recall him. In any case, he would be occupied in training his new partner and would not be interested in a reconciliation.

It occurred to her that the International must be in progress and she hunted through the daily paper which continued to be delivered, though she only read the headlines. But though the results were reported from day to day there was no mention of Sven Petersen or Steve Peterson. She concluded that he had had to withdraw as he had been unable to train a suitable partner in the time, and she felt a pang of guilt for having let him down. Since it is only human to seek to justify oneself, she tried to excuse her actions. Though Sven had not actually said he was not British, he had implied it, and most people thought he was Swedish. Eliot would have known the truth but had not thought to mention it; it would never have occurred to him that Sven would deliberately mislead her in an attempt to coerce her into marriage. Untruth breeds distrust, and Sonya wondered how much of what else he had told her was correct. That he was not well off was probable, and his reason for wanting to marry her, and why he had ingratiated himself with Eliot. But the story about his sponsor's daughter seemed likely to be a fabrication invented to lull her suspicions, and his assurances about Thomasina were likewise unreliable. He was probably with her now. Oh, he was devious and cunning where his own interests were concerned, and her ignorance and seclusion made it easy for him to impose upon her. She assured herself she was well rid of him, but the thought did nothing to assuage the ache in her heart.

The days continued to slide past, and still she did nothing about her future. The Mathesons were looking for a cottage in which to retire upon their legacy. When they had found what they wanted they would leave, and she could not stay on in the big house alone.

While still in this state of limbo, she had a call from Mr Foster to tell her that he had obtained probate of her father's will, and was ready to act upon any instructions she cared to give. Did she want to dispose of the house? It was too large for a single person, had always been so, but Mr Vincent had refused to part with it. He hoped she would be more sensible.

'But I can't sell it without my husband's permission.'

Mr Foster cleared his throat, knowing he was treading upon delicate ground.

'He hasn't been in contact with you?'

'No, he's been away.' Then, seeing nothing to be gained by prevarication, she said bluntly: 'We've parted.'

That Mr Foster had already been told, by the other party.

'Then you don't know that he has absolutely refused to accept the behests under your father's will? That may create some legal problems, but it's perfectly in order for you to sell the house.'

Sonya was stunned. 'I ... I don't understand,' she gasped.

'You'd better come and see me and I'll explain the situation. There are several matters we need to discuss.'