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continued when I didn’t speak, “I have the feeling that won’t cut much ice with you. Right?”
    â€œRight.”
    â€œOh well, win some, lose some. You can’t blame me for trying.”
    Curiously, the wariness between us fell away and we both relaxed. It was as though his macho self-image forced him to try his luck, but having failed, he bore me no ill-will. Further, he proved, surprisingly, to be an interesting and informative companion, naming the various hills and bays that lay spread before us.
    By now completely at ease with him, I’d have welcomed his company at the hotel during the wait for Aladdin, but he was lunching at the golf club with the Zimmermans.
    I glanced at my watch. It was already after eleven-thirty, and some of the anxiety of the previous night returned, producing a leaden feeling inside me.
    Clive had seen my movement, and consulted his own watch. “Yes, it’s time we were getting back. Mustn’t keep the boyfriend waiting!”
    He took my hand and this time I made no attempt to withdraw it. It was oddly comforting. Side by side, we went back down the slippery hillside to the Carreg Coed and parted at the gateway. Since Pauline had taken the car, he was intending to catch the hourly bus along the main road. I stood looking after him and he turned at the corner, raising his hand in a wave. Then he was gone.
    With a tightening of my stomach muscles, I turned and walked into the hotel.
    The hall was deserted, and a faint smell of cooking came from the kitchen. Through the glass wall I could see the old ladies placidly knitting in the lounge. I started up the stairs, realised I hadn’t collected my key, and went back down again. It was twelve-fifteen. Had he arrived?
    Reaching for the key, I wished passionately that I’d never come to this wretched place, and was safely at home in my cheerless, impersonal flat. My moment of panic on the hill had shown how flimsy was my attempt at bravado. How could I have imagined for one moment that I could beat these people at their own game? I must have been insane! I should have left after breakfast, as I’d first intended, and been miles away by this time. Now, it was too late. I would have to go through with it.
    As I was turning away, my eyes lit on the postcard rack on the desk. I picked out three at random, dropped some coins into the box provided for the purpose, and went back up the stairs.
    The door of the room next to mine stood open, awaiting the arrival of its new occupant. So he wasn’t here yet. I glanced inside as I passed, and came to a sudden halt as I caught sight of a piece of paper propped up on the dressing-table.
    Another note from Sinbad? Without conscious thought I darted into the room, snatched it up and crammed it into my pocket. Then I was outside and fumbling at my own door.
    I closed it firmly and leant against it, breathing deeply as I withdrew the crumpled paper and smoothed it out with trembling fingers.
    Not from Sinbad, anyway. It was typed on hotel stationery and read:
Miss Lawrence unavoidably detained after slight road accident, but hopes to arrive tomorrow
. It was signed
G Davies
.
    I released my breath in a long sigh. The fates were with me. If Aladdin had read that, he wouldn’t have established contact with me, and Sinbad would have wondered why.
    Once more I climbed on the dressing-stool and stowed my latest trophy away with the others. It was unlikely Mrs Davies would refer to it, she’d naturally assume he’d received it. I wiped wet palms down my shorts. Now, all I could do was try to fill in the time until he arrived.
    I washed, changed into a dress, and sat down on the window-seat to write my postcards.
    I addressed the first one to Matthew, explaining my inadvertent change of itinerary. (If only I’d gone to Somerset!) Then, trying to think of something bland to say, I wrote another to a girl at work.
    I’d just finished the second card when