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Emma had a curious feeling that she was meeting Adam for the first time. He was no longer the doctor, and therefore, like a man out of uniform, different, but just as compelling a personality. His gaze met hers steadily and disarmingly, and she thought of his formality at the moment of their last parting.

'Quite a feast!' he exclaimed, taking in every gesture of Irene's without appearing to observe her.

'We don't have parties,' Irene said with a shrill resentment. She gave Ruth a wintry smile. 'So you're Adam's sister,' she pronounced grudgingly. 'You're very alike. . .you share a house. Do you enjoy that? You must never know when to get meals.' The words came out jerkily.

Ruth sat down beside her on the sofa, aware of the tension and of Emma saying smoothly to Adam, 'Will you help me serve the drinks?' Their eyes met and held. He was near enough for his arm to touch hers and she was intensely aware of him.

'Nothing I'd like more,' he said appreciatively.

Irene spoke up.

'I only have tonic water. Alcohol makes my head funny.'

She stared at Ruth. 'Adam wanted me to meet you,' she said abruptly.

'And I wanted to meet you,' Ruth commented naturally. 'It will be good to be friends.' She glanced up to embrace Adam and Emma. 'The four of us,' she added.

'I don't go out,' Irene said flatly. 'I expect you know that. Adam's bound to have told you I've got agoraphobia.'

Ruth didn't shrink from the question.

'Yes,' she said, and her gaze met Irene's unflinchingly.

Their drinks poured and the canapés being eaten, Emma relaxed slightly, her gaze going continually to Irene who sat unnervingly still, causing sudden silences which Adam miraculously managed to break.

Emma, nerves frayed, said abruptly and foolishly to Adam, unable to think of anything inspiring, 'I saw you and Dr Meyhew going into the Castle Hotel on Friday.' She made it sound like a titbit of gossip.

Adam resented the observation and retorted, a trifle mysteriously, 'A celebration is in the air. . .' He bit into a small sausage roll, adding swiftly, 'These are my favourites.'

Ruth laughed. 'Men all seem to like sausages.' She had the confident air of a woman who knew men, and was at ease with them. Looking at Irene made her feel that the remark was indiscreet, and she hastened to say, 'You're not eating anything, Irene '

Irene was slumped in her chair at that moment and a sudden uncanny silence filled the room.

Ruth called her name fearfully, and Adam and Emma were immediately alerted.

Irene whispered, 'I feel ill. . .it's all so strange. I don't like it without Mummy and Daddy.' She looked at Ruth with a deep, almost alarming resentment. 'We've nothing in common. . .I can't take any more.' By this time she was visibly shaking and couldn't hold her glass, which fell to the floor, its contents making a wet patch on the carpet.

Adam took her pulse, which was racing faster than could be counted.

'I can't stand people,' she repeated, looking at Ruth almost belligerently, her voice raised hysterically.

Emma crouched beside her.

Ruth took in the scene with an appalled regret.
She
had caused all this; her presence had cut through the pattern and introduced a foreign note, dislodging Irene from her narrow isolated world—the impact as great as though Irene were being forced to go out.

Ruth made a little sad, apologetic gesture, flashing Adam an appealing look as she got to her feet, murmuring, 'It would be better if I left. . .' She thought in that moment of the fact that she and Adam had come in their respective cars as a precautionary measure should there be any practice emergencies.

Irene might not have heard her; she had shut her eyes, murmuring, 'Mouth so dry. . .'

Emma looked despairingly at Ruth before holding a glass of water to Irene's lips.

'I'm so
sorry. .
.' Ruth put a hand on Emma's shoulder in understanding, before hurrying from the room, Adam standing grim-faced and, for once, helpless.

As the front door shut, Emma's control snapped. She turned from the distressed Irene to Adam and cried, 'You might have known this would happen! Isn't there anything you can
do?'
She flashed a glance at Irene's pathetic shaking body, her white, scared face.

Adam didn't hesitate.

'Nothing,' he replied curtly.

'Couldn't you give her
something?'

Irene opened her eyes as she whispered, 'If I can go to bed. . .I'm safe in bed.' She turned mournful, pleading eyes upon Emma.

'I'll get you there,' Emma said gently.

Adam insisted with authority, 'Bed isn't the answer.'

Emma shot at him, 'You don't even know the
questions!'

He merely looked at her with a quiet pity which infuriated her; his voice was authoritative as he said, 'I'll wait until you've got Irene to bed. You will find that she will manage to walk unaided.'

Irene's lower lip trembled. She looked at Adam for the first time, as though a thought had just struck her: it was a half puzzled, critical look. 'Why did you ask me to—to—meet your sister ?' She broke off and wailed, 'My head feels so
strange.'
She rushed on, 'Please help me!'

Adam moved to her chair and drew her to her feet—coolly, calmly, his expression grave.

Emma led her from the room.

The sitting-room had the desolate air that followed a failed celebration when Emma returned to it. Adam stood staring out of the window, unseeing, angry and professionally frustrated. He took the attack to Emma as he said, 'It isn't good for Irene to go to bed every time she allows herself to get upset. It is a form of escapism which is self-defeating.'

'Escapism
,' Emma echoed, her voice raised. 'For a doctor, you are singularly blind.' Her eyes held an accusing fire. 'And you are responsible for all this. What was so important about Irene meeting Ruth? You should know they have nothing in common and you've been told often enough that Irene is upset by strangers.'

He replied firmly, 'My job is to combat all that. . . can't you
see,
Emma?'

'I
see,'
she answered furiously, 'that you are determined to misjudge Irene
's
case in order to prove your own erroneous theories, and if seeing her as she is just now won't convince you, nothing will. And how do you think I feel, to have your sister treated so badly?'

'Ruth will understand,' he put in swiftly, and added gravely, 'Irene's behaviour has nothing to do with agoraphobia; but if she could be persuaded to mix with people—be drawn into the reality of everyday life— it might stimulate her and ultimately lead to her venturing out.'

'The implication being that I am partly responsible for her reactions!'

He sighed, half-impatiently, half-defeated.

'They are your words,' he flashed back at her, their awareness of each other tangible.

Emma's thoughts wandered. He stood there, a challenge, and suddenly she recalled his statement when she had mentioned seeing him with Judy Meyhew: 'A celebration is in the air'.

Recklessly, she exclaimed, 'This is not a time for dissension!'

He stared at her, mystified by her volatile change of manner as he asked, 'Then for what
is
it a time?'

Emotion was churning within her and, despite Irene, she suddenly realised that she had to know the nature of that celebration, and the facts about Judy Meyhew. The only way was to challenge him to tell the truth. She took a deep breath, her body rigid as she said, 'It is an occasion for me to congratulate you on your forthcoming engagement.' Her words fell dramatically on the heavy silence.

He stared at her aghast.

'My—
what?'

Her heart thudded as she encountered his amazed annoyance.

She repeated forcefully, 'Your forthcoming engagement!'

Staggered, he shot at her, 'To whom?'

Emma's voice was a little shrill as she cried, 'Why, Judy Meyhew, of course! Everyone knows.'

For a second there was a silence as deep as that just before a thunderstorm, while anger darkened his eyes and gave him a threatening expression.

'Everyone being you and your fertile imagination!' He added contemptuously, 'And the gossip that seems unending these days.'

His anger brought a sudden surge of fear tinged with hope, and she murmured weakly, 'And you talked of a celebration being in the air.'

His fury was explosive as he told himself that he had never known anyone except Emma who could annoy him to the point where he lost control. His look of scorn withered her as he rapped out, 'And you added two and two together and made five!'

Emma's heart was thumping as she whispered, 'Meaning '

'That I am not
engaged
,' he said with suppressed fury, 'nor intending to
become engaged,
now, or in the foreseeable future!'

Emma shrank from his wrath.

'But I'll satisfy your curiosity about the celebration.'

His gaze mesmerised her as he added, '
Dr Meyhew
is announcing her engagement to Roy Wayne next week.' As he spoke, Adam had the overwhelming impulse to take Emma in his arms. Her sexual attraction awakened desire, fierce and irresistible. Why, he asked himself, should he be so incensed by her attitude?

Emma had been standing beside him during that time, and suddenly she sat down weakly in the nearest armchair, his words echoing to awaken emotion that tore at her and left her trembling with shock.

Adam watched her, knowing that he had been aggressive to the point of rudeness as he added in a faintly conciliatory tone, 'Roy Wayne came into the restaurant the other night, you may recall.'

But Emma scarcely heard his words. She was looking at him spellbound, aware of his every shade of expression and powerful personality. She knew then that she was in love with him; that her jealousy had been the measure of that love, which was overwhelming and filled her with both ecstasy and despair. . .

Adam
did not contact Emma and Irene during the next few days. Professionally, he knew that he would be sent for if he was needed. Ruth telephoned Emma as a courtesy and it was left that they would get in touch at a later date.

Ruth mentioned this to Adam the following Thursday when he came home a little earlier than usual, looking, she thought, distracted and restless.

She went straight to the point. 'I see no reason why I should allow Irene to prevent my making a friend of Emma.' She studied Adam intently, adding, 'You have no objection to '

He interrupted her with an emphatic, 'I'm all for your getting to know Emma. Irene is my patient, but I sometimes think that Emma needs attention far more.'

Ruth agreed, 'She certainly leads a restricted life.' She knew that Adam wouldn't go into the details of Irene's case, but she suspected that it was a worry to him. In addition she did not overlook the frequency with which Emma's name came into the conversation, but she was far too wise to make it an issue. Adam did not discuss his emotions and, while liking women's company, had been singularly immune when it came to their charms. Viewing him objectively, Ruth knew that he was very attractive to women and certainly had no need to remain a bachelor. It had not escaped her notice that between Emma and Adam there was a silent battle which stimulated her curiosity.

'I'd like to ask her to supper. . .you wouldn't mind?'

'On
the contrary; as I've just said, I'm all for your
getting to know Emma.' He looked at Ruth speculatively. 'Why do you ask?'

She responded against her better judgement, 'Because I'm not entirely sure of your feelings.'

He rapped out, 'My
feelings
? I don't follow.'

Ruth retreated.

'Patients and all that. . .with Irene as she is.'

Adam was not prepared for his own vehemence as he retorted, 'Irene may dominate Emma's life, but she most certainly is not going to jeopardise
your
friendships.' He was aware that he was on dangerous ground, and did not wish to draw Ruth into a situation over which she had no control. She realised the extent of Irene's dependence upon Emma and that was enough. His professional opinions were sacrosanct.

'Then I shall ask her for Saturday,' Ruth said emphatically. She laughed, 'I take it that I can say, "Adam and I would like you to come"?'

Adam replied carelessly, 'Do.' He betrayed himself, which was unusual, as he added, 'I'm not her favourite person. We clash.' He regretted the confidence the moment he had made it.

Ruth gave him an indulgent smile. 'You don't go out of your way to charm women, my dear brother!'

'I'm a doctor, not a gigolo,' he flashed back.

Brother or not, Ruth thought, she didn't blame women for falling for him.

*

Emma received the invitation with mixed feelings. First and uppermost in her mind was the prospect of Irene's reactions and, secondly, her love for Adam made her nervous and ill at ease at the prospect of a social evening when, as Ruth had said, she would meet Paul Knight. Nevertheless, after consultation with Marion, she accepted and faced Irene's resistance.

'Why want to get in socially with them?' Irene asked irritably. 'Adam's my
doctor,
and there is such a thing as being too friendly.' She eyed Emma suspiciously, recalling everything that had been said between them about Adam, and fearful of the consequences should Emma see him in his own environment and be drawn into .his personal life.

Emma was roused to unusual irritation.

'Previously you have wanted me to encourage Adam to come here.'

'That's different.' She added a trifle petulantly, 'You're very funny with him. Never the same twice. . . and Ruth alters things.'

Emma took her stand.

'Because you don't want her here.'

Irene's attitude changed in a flash. She immediately looked pathetic and apologetic.

'I've no control over that.' Her voice shook. 'Agoraphobics often have a fear of talking to other people,' Irene said sadly. Her voice rose. 'It's a dreadful feeling, Emma.' She paused and added, to give weight to her words, 'It's all in that book.'