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'My father isn't a millionaire,' she corrected her, 'and you needn't bother about me, Sven. As Tom says, I can rest here.'

'You will do no such thing. My day is devoted to you and
I
propose to take you for
a
run out into the country. That will do you more good than moping in the rest room.'

Thomasina's face darkened and she looked almost ugly.

'You're nobody's fool, are you, Sven?' she said nastily. 'You know which side your bread is buttered, but I wonder you haven't more sense, Sonya, you must know he's only interested in your expectations, even to the extent of making you his partner.'

Sven's eyes flashed blue fire as he said icily:

'Those remarks are quite uncalled for, Tom. You will please to apologise.'

Thomasina realised that she had gone too far, and her eyes filled with tears which she could always summon at will.

'I'm sorry, Sven, I didn't mean anything. I was upset because you treat me so badly. After all you've said, to neglect me for her ...'

'I am sorry if I have given you a wrong impression,' Sven interrupted more gently. 'But you have plenty of other admirers to console you. Sonya and I are committed to an important undertaking and so she is very precious to me.' He smiled at Sonya reassuringly, and she would have been thrilled by his last phrase if only it had been uttered in a more personal context. She was only precious to him because at this stage he would not want to have to find another partner.

'Naturally she's precious, being an heiress,' Thomasina flashed, recognising defeat. She stood up and walked away with her head in the air, provocation in every line of her sexy body, swaying from the hips in the model's walk, which was emphasised by her tight trousers. Sven's eyes followed her with a glint in them, and Sonya watched him unhappily. He was she knew a virile young man, and though her tongue had been unruly, there was no doubt about Thomasina's sex appeal. When she had disappeared, he turned to Sonya with a smile.

'Come along, my child, get changed and I will take you to a pleasant country inn where we can have a quiet lunch and the food is good.'

Trained to be obedient, Sonya went to do his bidding, but her feelings were very mixed. She resented being called a child, but she wanted very much to be with Sven. She feared he regarded her as a responsibility and had he had a choice would have preferred to take Thomasina. She knew what the other girl had been insinuating and as she gained her changing cubicle, she wondered anxiously if there were any truth in her assertions. She could never understand why Sven had fallen in with her father's suggestion that she should be his skating partner. That he regarded her as a sexless adolescent did not seem sufficient reason.

Surely he could have had his pick of skaters whose status equalled his own? But to believe he had a mercenary motive was unthinkable; that she would never accept. Thomasina had only suggested it out of spite. Then as she put on her coat, she dismissed her cogitations. Sven had never offered to take her anywhere before and she was about to spend several hours alone with him. She would not spoil the outing by false pride and misgivings, but enjoy it in the spirit of friendliness in which his invitation had been given.

Sven
was waiting for her when Sonya came out of the building. He was wearing
a
leather car coat with a lambswool collar. He was
a
slim, elegant figure with the thin autumn sunlight gilding his bare head. He was studying the facade of the club with an amused expression. It was very ornate, with marble pillars on either side of the entrance, and ESTELLE VINCENT SPORTS CENTRE in gold lettering above the doorway. He came to her as soon as she appeared, and she saw his glance go towards the mink coat she was wearing as if Thomasina's jibes had for the first time made him aware of her affluence. He drew her arm through his and she thrilled at the contact. By now she was well used to being lifted and guided by him, but his present action was more personal, as if he realised she was a human being and not
a
marionette whose strings he pulled.

'I have spoken to van Goort,' he told her, 'and he agrees that you should have the afternoon off.'

He led her towards his car, and she glanced back over her shoulder at the club's imposing bulk.

'I saw you looking at it,' she said. 'It's
a
fine place, isn't it? Do you know my father donated most of the funds to build it, and chose the design? Its private rink was installed mainly for my use. No wonder girls like Thomasina resent me!'

'Then it is
a
very foolish attitude to take,' Sven declared, 'for they all benefit from his generosity. It was a much nobler project than wasting money on some marble memorial which would be no good to anyone.'

They had reached his car and he opened the door for her, remarking that he would bring her back to collect hers before dark.

'It's awfully good of you to give up your time to me, when I'm sure you'd appreciate an afternoon off,' Sonya said shyly, as he took his seat beside her.

'Do not be so humble,' he told her as he started the engine. 'I consider myself privileged to take you out.' That irritating foreign courtesy, which never seemed to her to be quite sincere! 'Besides,' he went on, 'so far I have only talked to you in the company of others when you always seem so remote. I feel it is time we got to know each other better.'

That sounded genuine, and she settled herself in her seat with a sigh of content. It was a mild day of pale sunshine with mist obscuring the distance. The trees still carried their weight of orange and russet leaves, and there had been a frost overnight which gave a crispness to the air. The melancholy of the dying year lay over the landscape. Summer was only a memory and the dark cold winter lay ahead. Since the club was situated in north London and the evening rush had not begun, there was not a great deal of traffic, but enough to require Sven's attention. They sped through the miles of uninteresting streets, until fields began to replace the rows of houses. Sven turned off the busy thoroughfare into hedge-bordered lanes.

'I used to know this part very well,' he observed. 'I once lodged here. My parents disowned me when I told them I intended to make skating my career, because they had other ambitions for me, and they have never forgiven me.'

Sonya stared in disbelief at his classic profile, which was set a little grimly, at the recollection of past hurts.

'How could they!' she exclaimed. 'When you'd won
a
championship at the winter sports! Didn't they realise how good you were?'

'To my father skating is only play. He thought I should be content with my achievements and turn to serious matters. Ingrid, of course, did. They approved her marriage. She is actually
a
little older than I am, though we were known as the Golden Twins. She lives in Stockholm and I visit her from time to time.'

'Is she like you?' Sonya was trying to visualise a female Sven, which was difficult because he was so essentially masculine.

'We have the same colouring. Our temperaments, as I have explained, are quite different. She is all for security.'

They had reached the inn, an old building which had cashed in upon its proximity to London. It was surrounded by a paved courtyard, intersected by flowerbeds and urns filled with plants. A few dwarf Michaelmas daisies and nasturtiums still bloomed, but the dahlias had been nipped by the frost.

Inside there was a wealth of oak beams, appropriate old-fashioned furniture and a fine display of brasses. Sven led her to a table set in a bow window of latticed panes. A waiter came up and greeted him by name. Evidently he was known there. They ordered from an extensive menu. The place was not expensive, but neither was it cheap.

'Do you often come here?' Sonya asked when the man had gone.

'I like to when I am in England, but I have been away a great deal lately—winning fresh laurels in America and Australia, but I expect you are used to much grander places.'

'Indeed I'm not, you know I hardly ever go out. I think this place is lovely.' She sighed. 'I wish Daddy hadn't been quite so well off and I could have gone to school and done all the things other girls do.'

'But he was able to promote your skating.' Sonya could not tell him that she would gladly have forgone that. 'Now I have had to struggle to get where I am. When my parents refused to help me, I had to do all sorts of odd jobs to pay for travelling and equipment.'

Sonya stared at him a little blankly. It seemed impossible that Sven could ever have been poor. He dressed well, was always impeccably groomed and drove a big, if not very new, car.

She blurted out: 'Do you mean you're hard up?'

He shrugged his shoulders. 'I manage to get by.' The waiter brought their appetizers and Sonya was glad she had made a modest choice. When he had gone, she said childishly:

'You shouldn't waste money upon me.'

'Oh, lord bless you, child, I am not that impecunious, but you will notice I have not taken you to the Ritz.' He laughed gaily. 'You are easily satisfied, not like Thomasina. She is expensive, that is why I shall have to drop her.'

'But ... but she isn't a tart,' Sonya said reproachfully, a little shocked by the ambiguity of this assertion. Did he mean Tom expected presents, jewellery for example, in return for her favours? And how far did those favours extend?

'No, but she exploits her boyfriends.' Sonya knew this was true. 'But then most girls do,' he went on. 'A young man without a car has no chance at all, as I know from experience.'

Sonya was uncomfortable. She was recalling Thomasina's innuendoes about her father. Was Sven cultivating her because she had a wealthy parent? Was he stretching himself to entertain her for a mercenary end? The waiter brought the main course and she looked at her plate distastefully.

'What is the matter?' Sven asked, noticing her expression.

'Nothing ... it looks lovely.' She started to eat, wishing she had refused to come out with him. His next remark did nothing to increase her appetite.

'After the International, I am contemplating turning professional. One can make big money in ice shows.'

'Then you don't think we'll be selected for the Olympics?' She could not skate without Sven, he was her inspiration, her support.

'It is a long time to wait, and skating is a new innovation. The event might be dropped.'

'But if it isn't... I couldn't compete without you.'

'You could turn professional too,' he suggested, apparently unmoved by her distress. 'You would make a charming Cinderella on ice.'

Sonya shook her dark curls despairingly. 'Daddy has set his heart upon an Olympic gold medal.'

Sven looked at her through narrowed eyes.

'But your heart is not set upon it. I believe you would be happier in some other field of activity. He has had his day, Sonya, you have a right to choose your own path, and it is not the one he has mapped out for you.'

'It is ... it is!' She pushed at her food distractedly with her fork. 'I must succeed at skating, it's what Daddy wants.'

'There, I have spoilt your meal,' Sven said contritely. He poured from the bottle of wine which he had ordered. 'Drink some of this, and tell me to mind my own business.' He smiled at her winningly. 'We have to see how we get on in the International before we can make any decisions and much can happen in the meantime.'

But she had only one thought.

'You won't desert me, Sven?'

'Not as long as you need me,' he said gallantly, but his words gave her no reassurance, since she did not believe he really meant them. The arrival of a delicious-looking dessert distracted her. After all, as Sven had said, he could not leave her until after the International. Vaguely she wondered if Sven were still hard up and if an offer from her father could persuade him to continue to partner her until after the Summer Olympics. Eliot had provided her with a rink and an instructor, he could also procure Sven's services. She said thoughtfully:

'Daddy could make it worth your while.'

'Could what? Oh, I see.' For a moment he looked really angry, and then he smiled. 'You think everything can be bought, do you not, and I admit most things can, but I value my integrity. I will risk boring you with a bit of my history. When my parents discarded me and I was at my wits' end to raise funds, I was lucky enough to find a rich patron. He said he admired my talent and would sponsor it, because he was interested in skating ... blah ... blah ... and I thought it was all genuine until I discovered he expected me to marry his daughter. If I had I would have been in clover, but marriage and the lady did not appeal to me. So he withdrew his patronage.'

'What did you do then?'

'Oh, I managed somehow, and the International Skating Union helped me.'

Sonya finished her dessert in
a glow of satisfaction. Sven's story repudiated Thomasina's snide suggestions. He had already had the opportunity to acquire affluence through marriage and he had turned it down at considerable cost to himself. He could have no mercenary designs upon her and she felt
a
little ashamed of her naive suggestion. She would simply have to rely upon his promise not to desert her while she needed him, and she would need him desperately until the Olympic medal was won.

'My one-time benefactor lives hereabouts,' he told her, glancing round the room, and Sonya suspected he was recalling meals taken there with the girl he had rejected. She had failed to attract him in spite of her money, but who could hope to catch this elusive man who was as slippery as the ice he loved? Thomasina was still trying and her own hold over him was confined to the skating rink, and that he had just shown her was a bond that could be broken at any moment if he were so inclined.

'Do you still see him and his daughter?' she asked, thinking Sven might have had second thoughts.