still was, even though she had lived alone the last three years. ‘Hazel!’ Sylvia studied her intently. Still the same trusting brown eyes that could glow with laughter or darken with pain, usually the latter in her last few months before leaving England for America. ‘Trisha said you were back, but that you were at the school talking to Rafe.’
Hazel shrugged. ‘I was. He’s gone back to the house. At least, I presume that’s where he’s gone.’
‘I see.’
Hazel smiled wanly. ‘You always did, didn’t you? Oh, Aunt Sylvia, it’s started again already!’ She slumped down on to the sofa.
Sylvia sat down beside her, placing a consoling arm about her shoulders. ‘Give it time, child, give Rafe time.’
Hazel’s eyes swam with tears. ‘Time is something I don’t have too much of where Rafe is concerned. He’s given me a week to get out of his life once and for all,’ she explained at Sylvia’s questioning look.
‘He’s what!’ Sylvia was astounded. There had always been a certain tension between Rafe and his ward, the occasional argument over trivial matters—but never open conflict. That seemed to be left to the female member of the Savage family. Poor Celia, hating a girl who could have been a good friend if allowed to be. She shook her head. ‘I’m sure you must have misunderstood him. Rafe’s your guardian, he can’t just dismiss you out of his life.’
‘He already has. And his guardianship ends in a week’s time. He said I could stay until then.’
‘But why ask you to leave at all? I don’t understand this.’ Sylvia looked sharply at Hazel. ‘Does Celia have anything to do with it? Has she been up to her tricks again?’
‘I’m afraid so.’ Hazel went on to explain Celia’s omission concerning Rafe’s accident.
Sylvia rose angrily to her feet. ‘That woman is a monster! She deserves a good hiding for the trouble she causes. How could she do such a thing!’
‘I keep asking myself the same question, and the answer isn’t pleasant. She hates me, Aunt Sylvia. She really hates me!’
Sylvia smiled gently. ‘It isn’t you personally she hates, Hazel, anyone would have done at the time. You arrived here at a time when Celia wanted and demanded that all male attention should belong to her. At sixteen she felt herself to be the most beautiful woman in the world, and she wanted everyone else to think so too, including Rafe. But he had all his spare time wrapped up in you, attention she felt she deserved.’
‘But Rafe is her brother!’
‘Even more reason for him to cosset and spoil her, for him to realise his cygnet has grown into a swan. But at the time, and rightly so, he believed you needed that extra-gentle care, the extra love he had to give. And so it was you and not Celia who received the attention of Rafe Savage. She longed to show everyone how her big strong fearless brother loved her, how he thought her beautiful. But you arrived, a little waiflike creature with eyes too big for your face and an awful lot of love you wanted to give someone. Celia felt very excluded, rejected even, and she’s gone on disliking you for it all these years.’
‘I didn’t realise … I never asked for Rafe’s care, you know.’
Sylvia laughed softly. ‘You didn’t need to. He only had to look at you to know you needed a lot of undemanding love. And he gave it to you.’
Trisha came bursting into the room, changed now into a green suntop that complemented her shoulder-length straight blonde hair and matched her twinkling green eyes. She wore white shorts and plimsolls with her top and was obviously just on her way out. ‘I thought I heard voices,’ she grinned. ‘Fancy a game of tennis, Hazel?’
‘I don’t think so,’ Hazel replied uncertainly, at the moment her mind too full of the recent revelations about Celia.
‘Oh well,’ Trisha sat down in the chair opposite them. ‘I’ll go another time.’
Now Hazel felt guilty. It wasn’t fair to inflict her problems on this happy family. They must have been relieved at the three-year break, she thought wryly. ‘Okay,’ she gave in. ‘Why not? I could probably use the exercise.’
The club couldn’t be called large by any standards, but it had all the usual activities, a pool, half a dozen tennis courts, a squash room, and of course, the bar.
Two or three of the tennis courts were already in use when they arrived, the youngsters already there old acquaintances who wasted no time in coming over to say hello. Some of the parents of these people worked on Rafe’s estate, although they always treated Hazel with the same casualness of their other acquaintances—for which she felt grateful.
There were a couple of male faces she didn’t recognise, but Trisha soon named them as the Logan brothers, Mark and Carl, staying in the village with the Delaneys. Both tall and fair and good-looking, they could almost have passed for twins, and Hazel guessed there must only be a year or two’s difference in their ages.
‘Are you going to play tennis?’ Mark asked Trisha.
She nodded enthusiastically, hurrying through the introductions. She had had her eye on Mark Logan for the last few days now and this was the first opportunity she had had to actually speak to him. He was the most attractive-looking man she had seen around here for ages, not counting Rafe of course; no one quite measured up to Rafe Savage, and she supposed no one ever would. Most of the girls in the area were half in love with Rafe and given the least encouragement would go to him on any terms he cared to make. But no encouragement was ever forthcoming.
Carl Logan smiled at Hazel. ‘Would you like to challenge them for three sets?’
Hazel laughed. ‘I’m not sure if I’m up to three sets. I haven’t played for some time, but I’m willing to try if you are. I just hope you’re a good player,’ she added teasingly.
It appeared that he was, the two of them taking the first and third sets, although not without a lengthy battle. The four of them just about collapsed into the loungers next to the pool, sipping thirstily at the iced lime juice they had ordered.
‘Your tennis is excellent.’ Carl watched her over the rim of his tall glass, his blue eyes clear and uncomplicated. He was a refreshing change after the trauma of her other meetings today.
She grinned at him. ‘I’m a little rusty,’ she corrected him. ‘If you weren’t such a good player we would have lost, miserably.’
Mark watched them with amused eyes. ‘When the two of you have quite finished complimenting each other on that purely lucky victory,’ he said tongue in cheek, ‘I suggest we all make arrangements to go to the dance together tomorrow evening.’
‘That would be lovely,’ answered Trisha excitedly. ‘Wouldn’t it, Hazel?’
Hazel looked from one to the other of them, not really sure if she should make arrangements like that without consulting Rafe first. He hadn’t always attended these weekly dances, although when he had he had always expected her to accompany him. But that had been before his accident. Anyway, hadn’t he more or less told her to keep out of his way for the duration of her stay here?
She nodded her head. ‘Yes, lovely,’ she agreed.
It was obvious that Trisha wholeheartedly approved of the idea anyway. She could talk of little else but Mark Logan on the way back to the Marston home. The Logan brothers were certainly an attractive pair, but in a way they reminded Hazel too much of Josh and the men like him she had met during her stay in America.
Maybe Josh could have meant more to her; she didn’t know, and hadn’t had the time to find out. But she had heard the rumours about him like everyone else, it hadn’t taken Linda to tell her that Josh had let his fiancée down only two weeks before the wedding. She had already heard about that and it hadn’t endeared him to her. But when she had met him she had found him charming and very attractive.
She had been a little more sorry to leave