t was seven years since he had seen her. Seven long years. But he knew he was already entrapped again…longing to be with her, to hold her in his arms, if only for a moment. He would settle for that, or less: a few minutes talking to her, just holding her hand.

He had been married for six years, had a small child, a son. His name was Jonathan. But little Johnny was very much his mother’s child, a lot more like Valerie in appearance than him. A handsome, fair-haired boy, but there was not much Harte in him, at least so it seemed to Robin.

It was the other son, her child Owen, who was so obviously out of his loins. The boy was his spitting image, even down to his hands. He had noticed the boy’s long tapering fingers on Friday afternoon. Had his mother seen the likeness? Perhaps. And did it matter? Of course not. He had been quite certain for some years now that his mother had known of his love affair with Glynnis. She was shrewd, and understood the human heart. Furthermore Glynnis had worked for her for several years and they had become close. Perhaps Glynnis had even confided in his mother at some time or another, but he would never know the truth about that because Emma would never betray a confidence.

As he drove at a steady speed along the main Harrogate road on the Saturday night, heading from Leeds to Pennistone Royal, he thought of his mother’s reaction yesterday. She had been perturbed by his unexpected arrival, had hissed in his ear that he should have phoned. And yet she had hidden her irritation behind her famous inscrutable mask. She was good at that, disguising her real feelings, dissembling.

A smile struck his face as he thought of Emma. They locked horns at times, and could often quarrel. On the other hand, he really loved his mother, respected her, and he knew he was her favourite son. Still, he didn’t think she would approve of what he was about to do. Neither did he. Put simply he couldn’t help himself. He had to speak to Glynnis in private.

Now he asked himself if she would listen. Or would he get the door slammed in his face? He wasn’t sure. All he knew was that he had to see her.

As Robin drove up to the back of Pennistone Royal he saw that the house was dark, except for a couple of upstairs rooms: his mother’s and Glynnis’s. He had spoken to his mother earlier that day and she had told him she was dining alone with Glynnis, that Winston and Charlotte were coming over for lunch on Sunday. He had thought of cajoling an invitation out of her for the lunch, but decided not to put her on the spot in that way. It wasn’t fair.

Parking near a copse of trees, Robin got out of the Humber and closed the car door gently. Then he walked quickly towards the service entrance of the house.

He glanced up. It was a beautiful June night, the sky a very deep blue, so deep it was almost black, was filled with a generous abundance of shining stars. There was a gorgeous full moon, perfectly spherical and brilliant, and it lit his way.

Fumbling in his jacket pocket, Robin pulled out the key to the kitchen door, which he had owned since he was a teenager, and let himself in, careful to lock the door behind him. Moving quietly across the floor, he pushed open the door which led to the back service corridor.

Within seconds he was climbing a steep staircase; this led up to the first and second floors. Bypassing the first floor, his mother’s domain, he went on, climbing further still, and finally opened the door to the bedroom floor. He stepped into the corridor and made his way to the Blue Room, knowing she was the occupant of that suite.

Owen had told him yesterday, when he had taken the child to see the cows. He had confided proudly that he was in the Gold Room, all alone. The boy had also explained that they were staying at the Hyde Park Hotel in London. It had only taken a little prompting from him and Owen had innocently revealed quite a lot. What pleased Robin was that the child appeared to like him.

The corridor was dimly lit by the moon shining in through the tall window at the far end. Robin tiptoed down the long carpeted hallway until he came to the door with the brass plaque engraved: Blue Room. Tapping lightly, he stood waiting.

Several seconds passed before the door was opened a crack.

When Glynnis saw him her eyes widened in astonishment. He brought a finger up to his lips, making a shushing sound. Pushing against the door, he slipped into the room before she could stop him.

Glynnis stepped back swiftly, glaring at him.

Robin closed the door, leaned against it, and said in a whisper, ‘I have to talk to you.’

She backed away and, balking at his presence, she moved across the sitting-room floor quickly, stood leaning against the desk in front of the window. And then obviously realizing, all of a sudden, that she was dressed only in a flimsy silk nightgown she flew into the bedroom.

He did not move, remained standing where he was, leaning nonchalantly against the door, although he didn’t feel at all nonchalant. As tense and anxious as he was, he was telling himself not to follow her into the other room. Aware of her modesty, from their earlier days together, he was quite certain she had simply gone to get a robe. And a moment later she reappeared wearing a blue silk kimono over the nightdress.

Robin locked the door and walked towards her.

‘Why have you locked the door?’ she hissed, her blue eyes angry, her face strained, even fearful.

‘For no other reason than our son, Owen. If he wakes up he might be afraid in a strange room, and come looking for you. This way, if he does knock on the door, he won’t be able to open it. And I can go into the bedroom until you’ve taken him back to his own room.’

Glynnis said nothing.

Robin said, ‘He shouldn’t see me in here, especially late at night.’

‘Nobody should.’

‘I know.’

‘What actually do you want?’ she demanded in a curt whisper, her eyes growing icier by the minute. But he noticed that she was trembling uncontrollably.

‘To talk to you, Glynnis.’

‘I’ve nothing to say to you.’

‘But I do, to you. I realize this is not the time and place, and I came to ask you to meet me when you come back to town.’

‘I won’t!’ she snapped.

‘In case you change your mind–’ He searched around in his pocket, took out an envelope. ‘In here there’s an address and a latchkey. I want you to have them.’

‘Why?’

‘I want you to meet me there next week. Just to talk. I need to talk to you.’

‘I told you I don’t want to listen to you about anything.’

‘The address–it’s for Edwina’s mews house in Belgravia. Her bolt-hole when she comes over from Ireland to do her shopping, or for business. There’s a phone number as well. Please, Glynnis, come and meet me. On Wednesday.’ He offered her the envelope but she crossed her arms tightly and pursed her lips, the eyes suddenly flinty as she stepped to one side.

Placing the envelope on the desk, Robin continued, ‘I just want to tell you why things happened the way they did, that’s it, really.’

‘Oh Robin, please,’ she muttered, ‘you must go. Now.’

He didn’t move. He gave her a small smile. ‘The boy is so handsome, Glynnis, and bright, and very well mannered.’

She was totally silent.

Suddenly, he made a move towards her, so quickly she was taken unawares and caught offguard. Before she could utter a word of protest, or run, his arms were around her and he was pressing her tightly against his tall, lean body. ‘Oh Glynnis, Glynnis,’ he whispered hoarsely, and then kissed the hollow of her neck, her cheeks, and finally his mouth found hers.

Against her will she responded ardently; she kissed him back and clung to him, murmured his name, and she suddenly felt him harden against her thigh. He wanted her. She wanted him. And for a moment she nearly gave in, gave way, almost pulled him into the bedroom, to her bed.

But she did not. With enormous resolve she pushed him away gently, and a sob caught in her throat.

‘Oh darling, please,’ he begged, his eyes riveted on hers; they were twin reflections of his own, not only in their colour but the overwhelming desire raging there.

‘No, Robin, no.’

‘Yes, Glynnis, yes.’

Shaking her head, walking to the door on trembling legs, she turned and looked at him intently. ‘Please, you must go.’

‘There’s a phone number for Edwina’s mews,’ he reminded her. ‘Please phone me between twelve and twelve-thirty if you’re not coming.’

She was silent.

When he stopped at the door, he added softly, ‘You must let me know if you’re not coming. Promise?’

All she had the strength to do was nod.

After he left she lay on the bed in the dark, thinking about him, thinking what a narrow escape she had had. She had almost succumbed to his charms, and where would she have been then? Not only hating herself for running back to him the moment he beckoned, but guilt-ridden as well for sleeping with him. Richard was a good man, and he had been good to Owen; she knew he loved her, with great devotion. She loved him back, in her own way, and she had tried to be a good wife, was as devoted as he was as a husband. She had been a good mother to Owen, perhaps that most of all.

Robin, oh Robin…how I love you…how I want you. Close in my arms… She began to cry, the tears running down her cheeks and she wept and wept until she thought there were no tears left.

The weekend passed without any further incident. Robin didn’t drop in to see his mother again, and Glynnis was shocked at herself when she realized she was disappointed.

After chastising herself quietly, and muttering under her breath that she was a grown woman, not a silly teenager, Glynnis did manage to shake that feeling off. She made a supreme effort to be her normal, cheerful self and eventually she succeeded.

She had always got on well with Emma: they were extremely compatible, both being positive by nature, and optimistic. Glynnis had never had any difficulties communicating with her and she was able to chat to her about anything in the world, as was Emma to her.

They talked about many things over breakfast together on Sunday morning, and also when they took Owen for a walk before lunch. He ran ahead of them to the pond, shouting that he was going to feed the ducks, and they both smiled indulgently. Owen was in his element, that was obvious. All morning he ran and jumped, laughed and chatted to them both, and Glynnis was gratified to see the look of approval in Emma’s eyes.

At one moment her former employer turned to her and exclaimed, ‘He’s such a lovely little boy, Glynnis, you’ve done a good job with him. I hope you’ll bring him to England next year, and spend a little time with me, as well as going to see your family in Wales.’

‘I hope I can come, Mrs Harte. I know my mother’s anxious I bring Owen to the Rhondda next year…We’ll see.’

Emma sighed, and unexpectedly said in a wistful tone, ‘I do miss you, Glynnis. You were my friend you know, not only my secretary, when you worked for me during the war. I’ve always been so very fond of you, and now…well, he is my grandson…If things had worked out differently, you would have been my daughter-in-law.’

Glynnis merely nodded, and looked off into the distance; after a moment, she said, ‘I know what you mean, but I’ve believed in destiny all of my life. It was Fate… that’s why things are the way they are. Most of the time matters are out of our hands. They’re in the hands of…Fate.’

She forced a smile and then went on swiftly, ‘Mrs Harte, there’s something else I need to talk to you about…the money. You really don’t have to send the allowance every month. It’s far too much, and besides that, Richard can support us. I don’t need the money.’

‘Oh goodness, Glynnis, I know Richard is doing well! And I certainly never meant the money to undermine him in any way. However, I do want to send it to you. Remember, you refused Robin’s help during the war, and this is my way of…

well, ensuring Owen’s future, in a certain sense. Save the money, put it away in the bank and let it earn interest. Later, when he’s ready for college, you’ll have quite a little nest egg for the boy. I am going to continue sending it, my dear, it’s the least I can do. And that’s that. No more arguing.’

Once again Glynnis tried to protest, without success. She knew from her experience that once Emma’s mind was made up she wouldn’t budge. Apparently that was the case now. Eventually she nodded, and thanked Emma…it was all she could do.

Winston and Charlotte came for lunch several hours later, and it was a lovely reunion between the three of them. It soon became apparent that Emma’s brother was impressed with Owen, and if he noticed a family resemblance he didn’t let on, simply remained quiet. Winston had a reputation for being the family diplomat: he behaved in the most normal way with Owen, talking to him naturally, as if he were an adult.

All too soon the lunch was over, Winston and Charlotte left, and Glynnis went upstairs to pack. They were leaving for London very early the following morning, and she always liked to plan ahead, be ready to leave on time.

As she folded Owen’s clothes and laid them in his suitcase, she found herself sighing with relief that the day had passed so calmly. There had been no further hiccups. All had been tranquil, without event.

Suddenly, Owen’s voice piped up, startling her for a split second. ‘Mom, why didn’t Robin come back to see me? When he took me to visit the cows, he said he’d see me later.’ Putting his book down on the table, the child ran over to the bed where she was packing and tugged at her sleeve.

Glynnis looked down at him, and forced a smile. ‘He’s a busy man, darling. Maybe he just got caught up in work.’

‘Oh. I see.’ The child’s disappointment was apparent, and he muttered, ‘I liked him a lot. He was nice to me.’

When Glynnis made no response, Owen went on, ‘He’s a politician, Mom. He’s going to take me to the House of Commons.’

‘Oh I don’t know about that–’ she began.

‘He is!’ Owen cried passionately, interrupting her. ‘He promised. And I know he’ll keep his promise.’

Seeing that her little boy was really upset, she hugged him to her, and said soothingly, ‘I know he’ll keep his promise, Owen. I’m sure of it.’