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about Morgan Grant in a month. There was no way that she could forget him. As the weeks and months passed she grew more and more angry with herself for being unable to drive him out of her thoughts. She had then thought perhaps she was making him too important, that if she let her mind travel back over his visit often enough it would lose its appeal and become so familiar it would be boring. It had not worked, and here she was feeling as if she was flying even a little ahead of the jet in a crazy desire to see him again.
    She had not cabled that she was coming. She had no intention of ringing them up when she arrived in Christchurch. She was going to be completely independent and travel right out to the station under her own steam. She would not be beholden to them for anything, not the ticket nor even a ride from the airport. She had looked it up in a book on New Zealand, with maps and photographs, and discovered that Hanmer Springs, the nearest township to the station, was a holiday resort with ski fields, golf course, forest walks and horse riding as well as hot springs. There was not a lot of information about it, but enough for her to know that among all the visitors who came to swim in the sulphur pools for their health or to enjoy the other facilities she would go unnoticed.
    She even had her ticket on a bus to take her there, although she had not booked any accommodation. She felt quite well organised. She could stay there for a few days and perhaps find out a little about the station before going there. She had tried to find out about it from the library, but although they seemed to have quite a lot of New Zealand material they had relatively little information about that area. From her map in the book of tourist resorts she could see where the station was on the Lewis Pass road, away up in the mountains, but that was all she could find out. She did not worry particularly, because she would learn all about it when she went there, if she liked it and if her father liked her; if not, what did it matter?
    She had not slept much the week before she left. She had taken time out to visit Tiree and discuss her trip with Donald and Jeannie. She had not told them the whole truth, not the bit about her father ... that was too personal, and if he did not take to her, she would rather that they did not know she was rejected by her father as well as her mother. That would be too humiliating. They were so pleased for her and Donald promised to write at least once a week so that she would not feel homesick. It was very kind of him because it was very important to Katriona that regular letters would be arriving from Donald. Morgan Grant could not possibly suspect that she had any interest in him with Donald apparently so attentive.
    She tried to relax but could not. The seats were comfortable, the food was delicious, the film entertaining, the stewardesses most thoughtful for her well-being, and even with all that unaccustomed luxury and attention she could feel the tension within her building up to fever pitch. After the stop-over in Singapore it was a direct flight to Auckland where she took her cases through Customs and boarded a smaller jet for Christchurch after a considerable wait.
    As soon as she was seated she wanted to go to sleep. It was silly. She had not been able to sleep properly for weeks and the moment she arrived she was having a battle to keep her eyes open. The amicable lady in the seat next to her kept up a non-stop flow of conversation about her family and the conference to which she was travelling. Katriona wished she could take a polite interest, but kept drifting off to sleep only to wake with a fright a few seconds later. Suddenly she heard the name of her destination, Hanmer Springs.
    She forced herself to concentrate. ‘You’re going to Hanmer Springs, did you say? So am I. Isn’t that a coincidence?’
    The lady was enchanted. ‘Incredible! I wonder if the booking office knew and put us together