I walked on until I thought I was out of his sight, then I ran; ran blindly across the cove and up the sandy path to the cottages.
On the doorstep of the larger one Theo was sitting, emptying her white canvas shoes of sand on to the cobbles of the garden path.
“Hullo, Nancy! Do you know that Cariad was so bored with you that he ran home?” she said. “What have you done with Billy the Beloved? Is he——”
“Let me pass, please,” I said quietly, and walked swiftly into the house. The kitchen door was open and Mrs. Roberts was laying the table for the mid-day meal. She began, “Was you finiss paint the——” but I couldn’t stop to speak to her. I ran up the rickety wooden stairs to my bedroom. There isn’t a lock on the door; I looked. So I just latched it, and went and sat down on my bed, with its patchwork quilt of faded pinks and mauves. I began tracing with my fingers the pattern made by the hexagonal patches of purple. I don’t think I thought of anything at all.
And I don’t know how long I’d been sitting there before I heard light steps on the staircase and a tap at the door. I raised my voice a little.
“Don’t come in.”
“Nancy,”—it was Blanche—“dinner’s ready!”
“I don’t want any dinner. I am not coming down.”
“Oh!—What’s the matter, dear?”—with quick concern. “Are you ill?”
“No! I’m not ill!”