'Oh, very well.' Helen gave in reluctantly, not at all sure she wouldn't live to regret it. 'But I must be back here by eleven o'clock at the latest. Do you agree?'

Nigel sighed. 'If you insist.' He looked at her wryly. 'Now, do I deserve some grat.i.tude?'

Helen allowed him to kiss her, partic.i.p.ating to the extent of putting her arms around his neck, but when his mouth sought the scented hollow of her throat, she drew back. 'I'm not-I don't-that is, I think I'd better go, Nigel,'

she averred with determined firmness, and he traced the contours of her mouth with his finger before obediently letting her escape him.

'You're very sweet,' he said softly. 'And very s.e.xy. I just can't believe my luck.'

'What do you mean?' Helen asked curiously, and he leant past her to the push open the door.

'I can't believe I'm the first guy to think so,' he said, though she had the suspicion that was not what he had been thinking at all. 'No wonder that uncle of yours keeps you to himself! So would I.'

Helen got out abruptly. She didn't want to be reminded of Heath just then.

She didn't want to remember why she had accepted Nigel's invitation, or be forced to imagine the number of times Heath must have said something similar to a girl. She had purposely avoided ever picturing Heath with other women. Until now, it had been taboo. But Nigel's suggestive words had triggered her imagination, and suddenly she found herself facing the fact that Heath went to bed with those other females.

'Goodnight,' she said tautly, slamming the door and striding swiftly towards the house, almost as if she believed she could outstrip her thoughts, which she couldn't.

'Goodnight,' Nigel called after her, a trace of speculation in his tone, and Helen guessed he was probably wondering what he had said to upset her.

On Friday evening, she was ready and waiting when Nigel arrived. They were leaving earlier than usual, because of the distance to Harrogate, and Mrs Gittens viewed Helen's appearance critically when she came down the stairs.

'Is that new?' she asked, surveying the lacy camisole dress Helen had bought with Marion nearly two weeks ago.

'It is. Do you like it?' Helen smoothed the honey-coloured cotton over her hips with unknowingly sensuous hands. 'It's a warm evening. I shouldn't need a coat.'

'I should take a scarf with you, if you're going to ride in that sports car of Mr Fox's,' p.r.o.nounced the housekeeper dourly. 'And you watch what you're doing. I'm not at all sure Mr Heathcliffe would let you go.'

'Oh, leave her alone, Mrs Gittens.' Angela's drawling voice interrupted them. 'Whatever do you think is going to happen to her? Mr Fox seems a respectable young man.'

'Mr Heathcliffe wasn't too pleased to hear she was out the other evening,'

a.s.serted the housekeeper staunchly, put out at having her authority thwarted, and Helen turned to her anxiously.

'What did he say, Mrs Gittens?' she demanded. 'I didn't know you'd told him where I was.'

'Well, of course she told him. I told him, too,' inserted Angela impatiently.

'Naturally he was disappointed that you weren't here to speak to him, but I don't recall any animosity because you had a date.'

'He wasn't pleased,' insisted Mrs Gittens. 'I've known him a lot longer than you have, Miss Patterson, if you don't mind me saying so, and I know when Mr Heathcliffe's happy about something and when he's not.'

'Oh, nonsense!' Angela made a sound of derision. 'Helen, your uncle wants you to get out and mix with people of your own age. Mrs Gittens is probably colouring her recollection of what Heath said with her own opinion.

To her, you're still a little girl, but we both know you're not, don't we?'

Helen was doubtful, influenced more by Mrs Gittens' red face than by Angela's cool-eyed persuasion, but it was already too late. As she was standing there looking from one to the other of them, Nigel rang the bell, and the housekeeper went to answer the door with hollow-cheeked disapproval.

The flat where the party was being held was in a modern block near to the new conference centre. At least fifty young people were crowded into a living area not much more than twenty feet square, and in consequence they had overflowed into the hall and the bedrooms. Helen and Nigel were greeted by a thin young man in gla.s.ses, who took one look at Helen before expelling his breath in a low whistle.

'Hey, where have you been hiding all my life?' he exclaimed, eyeing her admiringly, and Nigel explained reluctantly that this was their host.

'Helen, meet Vic Boulton,' he said tolerantly. 'Vic, this is Helen Mortimer.

You remember, I told you I was bringing her.'

'Oh, sure, I remember.' Vic tucked his arm possessively through hers.

'Come on, Helen, let me introduce you around. Nigel, get lost, will you?'

There followed one of the most bewildering interludes in Helen's life. She was introduced to so many people that eventually the names didn't mean a thing, and she looked around rather desperately for Nigel, wishing he would come and rescue her. With a gla.s.s of some unidentifiable liquid in one hand and an equally bizarre sandwich in the other, she felt totally isolated, and Vic's sudden departure to meet another guest left her stranded at the other side of the room.

'You can never be sure Vic's not serving gra.s.s in his sandwiches,'

remarked a girl beside her, dressed all in black, with curious orange streaks in her dark hair. 'Anything to get the party rolling, that's his maxim. You want to beware of the joints they'll be pa.s.sing round later.'

'Gra.s.s?' Helen looked at her sandwich suspiciously. 'He wouldn't put gra.s.s in sandwiches, would he?'

'Who knows?' The girl rolled her eyes expressively. 'I've heard he had acid at a party he gave in Kingston. Our Victor's not a nice man. Not a nice man at all.'

Helen swallowed convulsively. 'When-when you say gra.s.s, you mean- marijuana, don't you?'

The dark girl arched her brows. 'Who wants to know? Do you belong to the drugs squad, or something?'

'Of course not.' But Helen had her answer. She now knew what the joints were that the girl had mentioned earlier.

'I guess you've never been to one of Vic's parties before,' she was saying now. 'I thought you looked kind of-innocent. Who brought you?'

'Er-Nigel. Nigel Fox,' said Helen, looking about her desperately. 'I-could you tell me where the bathroom is? I'd like to use the loo.'

In the event, she dropped all her drink and the remains of her sandwich into the toilet, before examining her flushed cheeks in the mirror above the basin. Dear lord, she thought, what had she got herself into now? And how the devil was she going to get away when Nigel apparently had known what to expect?

He was waiting for her when she emerged into the corridor, and her eyes avoided his as she adjusted the strap of her dress. She had been considering leaving without his knowledge, but now that he was facing her, she knew she had to tell the truth.

'I'd like to go home,' she said, without preamble, causing him to do a double-take. 'You didn't tell me your friends used drugs. I'm sorry, but I don't want to stay.'

'What did Vic say?' exclaimed Nigel impatiently. 'Helen, you mustn't believe all his lies.'

'It wasn't Vic. It was someone else, actually,' replied Helen, sighing. 'I'm sorry, Nigel. I don't want to spoil your evening.'

'But you are spoiling it, don't you see?' He spread his hands. 'Look, no one's going to insist you smoke, if you don't want to. Just give it a bit longer, will you? The night's still young.'

Helen shook her head. 'I want to go, Nigel. I want to go now.' She was imagining what Heath would say if he ever found out, and the possibility that the party might be raided was not as outrageous as it seemed.

'Oh, Helen-'

Nigel was raking his fingers through his brown hair when the girl Helen had spoken to earlier appeared beside them. In black leather pants and jacket, and high-heeled boots complete with spurs, she was a total contrast to Nigel's clean-cut appearance, but her eyes were sympathetic when they rested on Helen.

'You leaving?' she asked, shifting her gaze to Nigel. 'I don't think your lady likes the company.'

'Was it you she's been talking to?' Nigel demanded angrily. 'Why don't you keep your mouth shut, Alanna? Helen was enjoying herself until you interfered.'

'Oh, I don't think she was.' The girl called Alanna was not put out. 'I should take her home if I were you, Nigel. She might tell your daddy, and then what would you do?'

'Oh, shut up!' Nigel snapped aggressively, and Helen was surprised at this totally new side to his character. 'If she wants to go home, then she can do so. But I'm not leaving. It's barely nine o'clock.'

Helen caught her breath. 'All right, I will,' she declared tensely, and Nigel turned scornful eyes in her direction.

'And how are you going to get home?'

'There are buses. And taxis,' replied Helen coldly. 'Don't worry about me, Nigel. I'm not entirely helpless.'

He sighed, his expression mirroring his frustration. 'Aw, hey, Helen, don't go,' he exclaimed weakly. 'I'll take you home later, like I promised. Come on, come back to the party. We'll have some fun-'

'Where do you live?' asked Alanna, as she was shaking her head, and Helen looked at her in surprise.

'Near Starforth,' she answered. 'A house called Matlock Edge, in the Pendle Valley.'

'I know it,' said Alanna, nodding. 'Okay, I'll take you home, if you like-'

'Now, wait a minute,' began Nigel indignantly. 'Helen came with me-'

'And you don't want to leave,' put in Alanna reasonably. 'Come on, Helen.

You don't belong here. Nigel shouldn't have brought you, and I think he knows that now.'

'Well-'

Helen was undecided and Nigel caught her arm. 'Take no notice of her,'

he ordered, giving Alanna a killing glance. 'She's only trying to ruin my evening. Come on, give a little, can't you? You'd think I was trying to get you into bed!'

'And aren't you?' enquired Alanna coolly. 'What do you want to do, Helen?

Stay or go? Make up your mind.'

'I want to go,' decided Helen firmly, releasing herself from Nigel's possessive grasp. 'Are you coming, Nigel? Or do I have to make other arrangements?'

'Get lost!' said Nigel harshly, using an ugly epithet, and Helen's cheeks flamed as she pulled open the door and ran down the steps. Thank goodness she had found out in time, she thought weakly. Without Alanna's intervention, she might well have found herself without the will to resist any suggestion he made.

'Hey-wait!'

The other girl's voice arrested her, and she turned reluctantly as Alanna followed her down the steps of the apartment building. She wasn't at all sure she could trust her either, and she half wished she had insisted on taking a taxi.

'Do you want a lift?' Alanna joined her on the first landing, her plucked eyebrows arching interrogatively. 'Don't worry, I promise I'm quite reliable.

Just so long as you don't object to riding on the pillion.'

Helen's eyes widened. 'You've got a motorbike?'

'Dressed like this, did you think I'd drive a car?' Alanna gave her a wry smile. 'Look, I know you're probably not used to motorbikes, but you'd be quite safe, believe me.'

'Not used-' Helen broke off to shake her head. 'Alanna, I have a motorbike of my own. It's not a big machine, only a little one, actually. But Miles, that's my uncle's mechanic, he's sharpened it up for me, and it can really go.'

'You don't say!' Alanna was clearly delighted. 'Come on then, I'll show you my piece of metal. Here was I thinking you were fragile and feminine, and you're really just another rocker, like me!'

Alanna's motorbike was a sleek Suzuki, almost a thousand horse-power, with a capacity well beyond the limit of current speed limits. She was evidently very proud of it, and Helen could understand why, her own modest model fading into insignificance beside the more powerful machine.

'We'll borrow one of these,' said Alanna, filching a helmet for Helen to wear from the motorbike parked beside her own. 'Right. Are we ready? Okay, let's go!'

It was an exhilarating, if rather chilly, ride home. Although the night was warm, they were moving through the air at such a pace that Helen's arms were soon frozen, and they remained clamped to Alanna's leather jacket as much by the fact that she could scarcely move them as by any fear of falling off.

The motorbike roared through the lodge gates soon after half-past nine, and Helen could imagine old Jenkins rushing to his window to see if they were being invaded by a crowd of punk rockers. It sped up through the park like a bat out of h.e.l.l, and when they reached the drive gates, Helen hardly had the strength to extricate herself and climb down to open it.

'You okay?' asked Alanna, as Helen climbed back on again, and the younger girl nodded.

'Just a bit cold,' she admitted, hugging her shivering body, and Alanna opened the throttle to cover the last few yards.

'Are you sure this is where you live?' she asked, as Helen climbed down again at the front door, and her companion smiled.

'Yes. It's nice, isn't it? Do you want to come in for a cup of tea?'

The shaft of light that suddenly illuminated them as they stood there on the drive came from the abrupt opening of the front door. The stream of radiance was only interrupted by the figure of the man who stood in the doorway, and Helen's lips parted as she identified that lean frame.

'Heath!' she exclaimed disbelievingly. 'Oh, Heath, I thought you weren't coming back until tomorrow!' She clasped her hands together uncertainly as she looked from his shadowy outline to that of Alanna. 'How-how fortunate that I've got back early.'

Heath came down the steps with Mrs Gittens hovering at his back, and Alanna raised mocking brows in Helen's direction. 'No wonder you wanted to get back,' she remarked for Helen's ears only, as Heath stepped out of the shadows. 'With that at home, who'd want to waste time with Nigel Fox?'

Helen gave a nervous smile, but she wasn't really listening. Now that she could see Heath's face, she was able to see his expression, and it did not augur well; it did not augur well at all.

'I thought you said she went out in a sports car,' Heath enquired of Mrs Gittens, and Helen, on the point of rushing towards him and throwing herself into his arms by way of a greeting, froze to the spot.

'She did, Mr Heathcliffe. I saw her myself,' Mrs Gittens a.s.sured him worriedly, and Helen's spirits sank as Heath's dark gaze was turned on her.

'I can explain-' she began helplessly, and Alanna re-started the engine of the Suzuki.

'Time for me to go, sweetie,' she said, taking the spare helmet from Helen's unresisting fingers. 'I'll have that tea some other time,' she added. 'I can see that right now I'm not exactly welcome.'

'No, wait-'

Helen would have stepped in front of her had Heath not already done so, and Alanna's tyres screamed in the gravel as she endeavoured to control the bike.

'I want to have a word with you,' Heath grated, his dark features grim and unyielding, and Alanna grimaced behind her mask as she made a swift evasion.

' 'Bye, Helen,' she called, as the motorbike accelerated swiftly down the drive, and Helen was glad she had left the gate open as the bike's tail-lights swiftly disappeared. It had been kind of Alanna to bring her home, and Heath's behaviour had been far from reasonable. He might at least have listened to their explanation before behaving like some avenging angel, and she turned to him rather mutinously, aware that the homecoming she had been looking forward to had been abruptly spoiled. Things hadn't changed, she thought miserably. He was just as overbearing now as he had been before he went away, and her hopes that his absence might have made him think more fondly of her were evidently doomed from the outset.

'Oh, Helen!' It was Mrs Gittens who noticed how the girl was shivering, and putting a hand out to touch her arm, she gave a scandalised exclamation. 'She's frozen!' she declared, looking appealingly at her employer, and Heath stepped back abruptly and gestured towards the house.