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Ingrid did not apologise. Her vivid blue eyes, so like Sven's scrutinised Sonya from head to foot and came back to rest upon her face with a similar direct gaze.

'You're not at all what I expected,' she said. 'You're so young.'

'Perhaps we should make allowances for her because she's still wet behind the ears,' Thomasina suggested maliciously.

'I'm of age,' Sonya protested, not liking being baited by these two women, neither of whom had cause to think well of her. 'I came to see Sven.' She looked appealingly at his sister. 'Can I?'

'I doubt if he'll want to see you,' Ingrid said stiffly. 'Nor do I think it's advisable. You'll only upset him.'

Sonya's heart sank. She was prepared to abase herself, beg for forgiveness, but she had not expected Sven would refuse to see her. She looked about her desperately. He could not be far away, probably only divided from her by a wall. To be so near him and be denied access to him was overwhelmingly frustrating.

Thomasina came to the rescue. 'Have a heart, Ingrid,' she drawled. 'You can't answer for your brother. Don't tell him she's here—just turn her loose on him, and I bet the shock will be beneficial.'

Ingrid still looked doubtful and Sonya wondered miserably what she had been told about her, but without giving her time to make further protests Thomasina seized Sonya's arm, drew her out of the kitchen and opened one of the other doors.

'In there,' she said, and gave her a push.

The room was as bright and spotless as the kitchen, the walls washed in yellow, with futuristic designed curtains and folk-weave mats on the inlaid wooden floor. There was one picture, a coloured photograph of John Curry doing a spin.

The flat, as she was subsequently to discover, comprised four rooms and a bathroom; in addition to what she had seen there were two bedrooms, the second one very small. There was nothing expensive about the furnishings, and the rooms were rather bare, but the general effect was light and airy. She could understand now she had seen it why Sven had found her Victorian home heavy and oppressive.

But on her first introduction to it, Sonya only received a vague impression of the room, her whole atten
tion was focussed on the man sitting in front of the electric stove. He wore a thick woollen dressing gown which partially concealed the plaster on one leg, but he was immaculately shaved and groomed. His face was pale and drawn and all the fire had gone out of him; his vitality, the sexual magnetism which had made him so attractive, was extinguished. His eyes were closed and he did not open them as the two girls came in.

'I don't want anything, Ingrid,' he said, and even his voice sounded lifeless. 'Please leave me alone.'

Sonya gave an inarticulate cry and ran forward to kneel beside his chair.

'Oh, Sven darling!' she sobbed as tears ran down her cheeks. 'To see you like this breaks my heart.'

Then he did open his eyes and they were unchanged, still vividly blue. 'Am I dreaming, or is it you, Sonya?' he asked. He stretched out a hand and touched her hair as if to assure himself of her reality. It was at this point that Thomasina went out, closing the door softly behind her.

'Yes, it's me,' Sonya whispered through her sobs.

He withdrew his hand and his face hardened.

'I'm afraid you find me a little marred,' he said coldly. 'And please mind my leg. But it's I who should weep, not you. Why have you come? I thought you wanted to be rid of me, the self-seeker, the fortune-hunter, or have you come to gloat? As you see, I'm a wreck.'

Sonya sat back on her heels and gazed up at him, the tears still wet upon her cheeks. This reception was chilling, but she had found him, and though his words were bitter there was an eager light in his eyes.

'Don't say such dreadful things,' she reproached him.

'You've refused the fortune, and you're not a wreck. Your leg will heal...'

'Oh yes,' he cut in. 'I may even be able to skate again, in time, but not to do lifts and spirals. I'm finished as a figure skater, you know that?'

'But you're still alive, and you won't be crippled like poor Daddy, and it doesn't make any difference to me.' It was hard going it would seem the skating meant far more to him than she did.

'But it will,' he insisted. 'The Sven Petersen you knew, the glamorous star, is no more. For the next few months I'll be a poor maimed thing, and you're so young ..

'Oh, for God's sake don't you start about that,' she interrupted. 'It's something which will remedy with time, and since you left me I've felt about a hundred.'

'Poor Sonya!' But his tone was derisive.

Determined to break through to him, she said boldly:

'Sven, I'm still your wife, aren't I?'

He smiled wryly. 'Yes, it takes longer to dissolve a marriage than to contract one, and I'm afraid I've been dilatory. Up to now I've done nothing about it.'

'Good,' she said with satisfaction. 'Then may I remind you that I promised to cleave to you in sickness and in health? You may not love me, but I believe you need me.'

'Need you!' he exclaimed with passion. He again put out his hand and touched her hair. 'Such lovely hair, so rich and glossy.' He sighed and turned away from her. 'Why won't you believe I love you, Sonya?'

'You've never said so.'

'I have. I also said I adored you, you refused to believe it.'

'Oh, that time at the Zoo, but I was certain you weren't serious.'

'And after your money? That damned money! Why couldn't your father have been a poor man? Sonya, I was drawn to you the first time I met you ... such an eager, charming child, who should have been enjoying herself with a crowd of jolly youngsters. I wanted to help you if I could, and the only way seemed to be to make you my skating partner. Ah!' His face lit up. 'That was a wonderful combination. You seemed almost part of me. There was nothing we couldn't have achieved together. I saw a wonderful future for you, because later we would have gone places and I would have ensured that you have some fun. You'd been cruelly repressed and stunted by your father's harsh regime, his obsession with your career ... Ah, now you look daggers at me, you're still bound by your father fixation. It was that I wanted to free you from, and I thought I could when I married you. But you chose to take umbrage at the methods I used to gain your consent, and all my planning came to nothing.'

'In spite of what you say, Daddy was everything to me,' Sonya said sadly. 'I suppose he wanted it that way and worked for it. When he went my whole world crumbled, but I was most unfair to you, Sven. I was morbid and stupid, and it's only lately I've realised I'm almost relieved he has gone, because there's no more need to pretend I'm the ace skater I never was and never could be except under your domination, and that was cheating. Can you possibly forgive me for the way I treated you?'

'There's nothing to forgive, Sonya. I daresay I deserved it. I was impatient and tactless. I wanted you so much and you retreated further and further away. I was damned if I was going to compete with Eliot Vincent's ghost.'

'It's gone now,' Sonya told him. 'Even the house is to be sold.' She moved nearer to him. 'Sven, do you mean you still want me?'

'I've never ceased to do so.' He put his hand under her chin and raised her face. She met his penetrating gaze without flinching, her own eyes expressing all her love and longing.

'And you love me?'

'With all my heart,' Sonya declared, and her face became radiant.

Sven dropped her chin and turned back to the fire. Harsh bitter lines that there had never been there before were suddenly apparent on his face.

'It's too late, Sonya,' he said sombrely. 'You must realise, darling, that I have no prospects and no job. And I refuse to live upon you.'

Sonya felt her heart sink again, and the radiance died out of her face. From Sven's expression he was about to raise a further barrier with his touchy pride.

'What were you thinking of doing?' she asked faintly.

'I've promised to go to Stockholm with Ingrid. Now I can no longer skate, at least for a long time, my father is pleased to be reconciled. He offers me work, a sort of glorified office boy—I'm not trained for anything better. Ironically he'll have to obtain a work permit for me, but no doubt he'll wangle it. It will be the prodigal's return, but without the feasting.' He laughed bitterly.

'No!' Sonya cried energetically. 'You can't go, Sven, I won't let you.'

'You can't stop me, darling, and you'd better let me dissolve our marriage. I shall be in no position to support a wife for several years, perhaps never.'

Sonya felt she had never heard anything so preposterous. Sven was proposing that they should separate because he could not keep her, and she had so much money she did not know what to do with it. She feared her accusations of being mercenary were to blame. He was determined to show her that he scorned her wealth but she was equally determined that she would not relinquish him. Then an inspiration came to her. Eliot had founded the Estelle Sports Centre to immortalise his wife, why should not she build something similar with the money he had left?

'Sven,' she begged eagerly, 'I've an idea. I don't want a lot of money either, but I could build an extension to the club, a sort of hostel for budding sportsmen who could lodge there while they're training. I could add to its amenities, make it even bigger. Add a running track, and of course it would have to be endowed ...' She was watching Sven's face and saw his dawning interest.

'That would be a wonderful idea, darling. If only I could have a part in it!'

'But you can, you must—I know nothing about business. I'll be cheated left right and centre without someone to manage my affairs. Incidentally, Mr Wylie will be retiring next year. He'll have to be replaced, you could take over his job too. With your reputation you would be an asset to the club, and when your leg is better, you can coach the skating. Do consider it!'

'Consider it!' He lifted his head with something of his old arrogance. New life seemed to flow through his
veins relieving his pallor, and the lines disappeared. 'Sonya love, it's a brilliant idea, and it has infinite possibilities.' He turned her face towards him. 'But it appeals to you? You're not suggesting all this merely to give me an occupation?'

'Of course not.' That had been her main idea, and he must not guess that, but as the project grew in her mind it became more and more attractive, and she was able to meet his gaze with perfect candour. 'I shall be thrilled to bits with all the organising and planning which you'll have to do, because I haven't a clue, I'll only want to be consulted about what's going on.' Her eyes dropped and her face clouded. 'But I don't want to be too much involved, you see, I'm really domesticated ... all I really want, Sven, is to be a wife ... your wife ... and a mother.'

Rich colour suffused her face as she uttered the last two words. Sven's fingers tightened upon her nape.

'I'm a clumsy fool,' he said contritely. 'My stupid pride was about to make you suffer. But your scheme will enable me to keep my self-respect, bless you, and as for the other ...' He gave a stifled groan. 'If only I were not so weak! But I shall soon be strong again, and God willing you shall have your family. Meanwhile ...' he slid his hand across her shoulders, 'Won't you give me a kiss?'

Sonya turned her head and raised it, but before she could touch his mouth, Ingrid came into the room.

'Oh, a reconciliation!' she exclaimed. 'Well, I hope you know your mind this time, Sonya, my poor brother has suffered enough because of you.'

'Which only enhances my present joy,' Sven returned impeturbably. 'She's not had an easy time either, but all's well that ends well.'

'I suppose this means you won't be coming with me to Stockholm?' Ingrid enquired acidly. She plainly did not trust Sonya.

'No, dear sister, I shall not. We have other plans of which we will acquaint you in due course, which doesn't mean I'm not very grateful for your care of me. Could you make us some coffee?'

'Certainly.' For the first time Ingrid smiled. 'And I'll take my time over it, because I'm sure I interrupted something.' She moved to the door. 'Tom's gone,' she added casually.

'Tom?' Sven asked, surprised; he had not seen her come into the room.

'She brought me here,' Sonya explained. 'I didn't know where you lived. It was generous of her, considering.'

'Good old Tom!' Sven exclaimed. 'But she's not cut out for domesticity, Sonya, she's too restless to settle down.' He paused and looked at her keenly. 'Is that another ghost laid?'

'Yes,' Sonya declared. 'I know you told me the truth about her relations with you. But oh dear, if she's gone, I'm stranded—I came in her car. Is there a taxi stand near here?'

'Not that I know of, but need you go?'

'You mean spend the night here?'

'Why not? You're my wife, and mine is a large bed.'

'But... but your leg ...'

'You'll have to be careful not to knock it, but you were never clumsy, my love.' He smiled wryly. 'There's more to marriage than physical union, Sonya. On our wedding night I held you in my arms and tried to comfort you, but you found more consolation in your dog. I haven't got even a dog, and I need your comfort, darling.'

Then at last their lips met in a long satisfying kiss.

Later when they had drunk the coffee Ingrid prepared and Sven's sister retired to her small room, saying that now Sven had got his wife to look after him, he no longer needed her ministrations, Sonya helped Sven to bed. She was not embarrassed. There was a tender intimacy about the proceedings which roused all that was maternal in her. As she lay beside him with her arms about him, wearing a borrowed nightdress belonging to Ingrid, she told him about her experience at Pompeii.

'I could have sworn I heard your voice,' she said.

'Perhaps you did. That must have been the day Ingrid fetched me from hospital and I realised the bleakness of my future. In anguish of spirit I longed for you, never dreaming you would come.'

'I'm here now, and I'll never let you go again,' Sonya murmured with her cheek against his.