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Adam's expression was full of encouragement.

'I'm listening, Irene.'

'I've done nothing but think and analyse since
all
this happened,' she began. 'And I've
had to think of
myself as a normal person,
with
hopes, dreams, intentions.'

'That's all good,' he commented.

'My parents,' she said quietly, but with a light of love in her eyes, 'are with me all the time. You see, before, I shut them out when it really came to it. All I thought about was having lost them. I was bitter and my resentment blinded me to everything but my own suffering, and when the agoraphobia started. . .' She paused, looking at him almost pleadingly.

'Your panic attacks and sickness were all genuine symptoms,' he said with kindly understanding. 'It was only when you got the fixation about Emma '

'The hysteria began,' she said with an honesty that amazed and relieved him. 'Oh, I know. . .it was just that I seemed incapable of facing up to it. I almost mesmerised myself into a neurotic state where people were an intrusion and being indoors was a bonus. You were a challenge, holding up the mirror. . . And the idea of Emma working again,
my
routine being threatened. . . I was even wicked enough to hope that I'd make you and Emma quarrel.' She looked at him candidly. 'I succeeded. Now it's horrible to think about.'

He said encouragingly, 'It's tomorrow you have to think about—what you want from life.'

She looked at him boldly, almost as though she were prepared to shock him.

'I don't like the idea of being sexually dead—as I have been since I've had the agoraphobia. When our parents died. . . I've been in an emotional deep freeze.' Faint colour stole into her cheeks as she dropped her gaze and then raised it to meet his, and added, 'But I'm coming alive again; the whole world is changing. If only I could put into words the sheer horror of that moment when I thought Emma might have been killed and how something, literally, seemed to snap in my head.'

Adam didn't interrupt her, but his attitude gave her moral support as she went on, her voice low, 'Now, it is as though Daddy and Mummy are back again in this house. Death doesn't shut people out. . .we do it, by thinking of them like that. Who knows what dying spared them? And they went together.' She paused before adding simply, 'They loved each other so
much
and from now on they will share my life.' A glow came into her eyes. 'Thank you for letting me talk like this.'

Adam said fervently, 'I want you to know that I'm always ready to listen; that if you find any problems, I'm always here.'

She looked grateful, and it did not seem possible that she was talking to Adam whom she had denounced so fiercely.

Adam wanted to mention the time factor, to discover how she visualised tomorrow, yet he found it difficult boldly to speak of the future, or stress that he wanted to marry Emma as soon as possible. The great hurdle was the physical separation from Emma—inevitable if they were to sustain any normal married life. He had to face the fact that Irene's progress, her outlook, was still dependent upon Emma's presence.

There was a moment of awkward silence as he tried to think of the right approach. It had seemed to be only a matter of bold assertion; now it became an insurmountable problem.

But Irene said unexpectedly, 'I want to talk to you and Emma. I'll call her.' She got to her feet and Adam stood up to open the door. She gave him a kiss on his cheek. It spoke more than a volume of words.

Emma came down from her bedroom, her gaze going in unconscious appeal to Adam, who did no more than smile a welcome.

Irene began, when they were seated—Adam and Emma on the sofa and she in 'her' armchair beside it—'I wanted you both here so that I could make you understand how glad I am about your engagement and how I realise that, as you see things at this moment, I present a problem.'

Emma tensed. Adam looked grave.

Emma merely echoed Irene's words questioningly.

'When,' Irene asked directly, 'are you thinking of getting married?' She looked from face to face, adding, 'I'm sure you don't want to wait for long and what I want you both to know is that I shall be perfectly capable of adjusting my life to being without you, Emma. You must both be free to build your future, as I am free to build mine. There must never be any of this, "We can't do that because of
Irene".
Let me make up for lost time—the nightmare of everything that has happened since Daddy and Mummy died. My world has changed; I can see everything in perspective and all I want is your happiness.'

Emma said unsteadily, 'Oh,
Irene!'

Irene felt a glow of happiness; the overwhelming joy of giving, instead of receiving; of being able to contribute to the peace of mind of the sister she loved more than anyone else in the world at that moment.

'I'm going to begin to
live,''
Irene went on. 'I don't want a career—I'm not the career type—I want to get married, to build a world that is familiar to me. If I don't want to live alone until then, I can always get someone to share this house with me.' She smiled. 'If it should be a husband, so much the better.' She gave a knowing little smile. 'Do you realise that I'm going out to dinner? Oh, not alone; but Emma is no longer competition,' she said as an aside. 'To dinner with Timothy Wain. My first outing and who shall say what other engagements may spring from that?' Even as she spoke she relived the moment when she had first met Timothy Wain's gaze and felt the unexpected impact of his masculinity. Her thoughts raced on: it was too much now to think that she and Timothy Wain would fall in love, but it would no doubt lead to a widening of her horizons when she was in a position to entertain and eager to do so.

Emma sat there, stunned almost into silence, happiness surging over her so that she hardly dared to look at Adam and realise that all their fears were groundless.

'Oh, Irene,' she murmured, 'if only you knew what it means to hear you talk like this. Not just because of
us
' she looked adoringly at Adam '—but because of you and your happiness. It's what I've prayed for. . .'

Irene felt a glow of satisfaction, calm and confidence. Her world was new and she had given deep thought to every word uttered. She felt strong and decisive, and as she looked at Adam she said fervently, 'I've you to thank for so much in all this '

'I wasn't responsible for the accident,' he reminded her.

'No, but all you've said to me in the past, your attitude, has been my guide in restoring me to normality once the shock was over. I built on what you believed, and was true; saw the picture with your eyes where Emma was concerned. I haven't reached this composure alone, Adam. You gave me the foundations so that my recovery is not built on sand. You will be the best brother-in-law in the world.'

Adam was touched, and the warmth of deep satisfaction stirred within him as he said, 'I'll try to be.'

It was a fortnight later, at the
beginning of September,
that Adam and Emma decided
to discuss their wedding
date with Irene, choosing Sunday after lunch which Adam shared with them. There was tension and emotion in the sudden silence that fell in the sitting-room, but it was Irene who broke it by saying, to their consternation, 'I want to talk to you—seriously.'

Adam and Emma exchanged glances, signalling that they should listen to her before following their intention.

'That sounds ominous,' Adam said, as he and Emma met Irene's steady gaze.

'Only it isn't. I want to make plans, and to know what you have in mind about the future.' Irene had rehearsed this scene which was intended to reassure them. 'I've got to build a new life after you're married ' she looked at them very levelly '—and I have an idea in mind.'

Emma's heart lifted.

'Idea?' It was a hopeful echo.

'It includes Helen,' Irene went on.

Adam looked curious and Irene smiled at him saying, in order to put him in the picture, 'Helen Crosby is a friend of ours—mine, more than Emma's, because she and I were at school together. She is a nurse and has only recently returned from a year in America. You'll meet her when she comes to stay next weekend.'

'And the idea?' Emma prompted anxiously.

Irene's voice was firm and decisive.

'Helen would like to share the house with me.' She hurried on, 'I don't fancy the idea of living alone and, anyway, I want you to get married just as soon as you can arrange it to suit yourselves.' She gave them an endearing smile. 'Don't imagine I haven't been aware of how you've avoided mentioning dates.'

Adam
admitted with
an
intriguing smile,
'I
promised to talk to you about it and we were going to do so this afternoon.'

Irene was resolute. 'I don't want to be a stumbling-block, so instead I'm being the interfering relative hurrying things along!' She looked at Emma. 'You know Helen has a job lined up a little later at the Royal Nursing Home—what do you think?'

'That is a splendid idea.' They were both thankful and delighted.

Adam looked at Irene.

'I've bought Ruth's share in the house we owned. She will move in with Paul when they are married next month, so ' he gave Emma a look that quickened her heartbeat '—so Emma can refurbish and do whatever she likes to the place.'

Irene nodded and made the last request which she felt would seal the bargain and give them complete freedom.

'Would you humour me and get married on my birthday—next month on October 15th?' She kept her voice steady, but a little sinking sensation touched the pit of her stomach in that moment of realisation. Emma
married.
Helen sharing her and Emma's home. The change seemed impossible, but there was a deep satisfaction in the knowledge that she had taken the initiative and atoned for so much stress she had caused. She hastened, 'October can be a very nice month, but '

Adam and Emma exchanged loving glances as he said, 'To us it will be the perfect summer day!'

'Then my birthday it is,' said Irene as though finalising things. She added, gazing fondly at them, 'And the best present I could have.'

As she spoke she felt at peace, assured that she had made the right decision both for herself and them. But in the reflection was the dream of a tomorrow when
she
would be a bride.

Adam and Emma were married, as previously arranged, at Holy Trinity Church. Emma went through the marriage service almost in a trance. She was marrying
Adam...
the ring was on her finger, his kiss finally symbolising their vows. Their eyes met, emotion, fierce and then tender, as he whispered, 'My
darling!'

Later he and Emma sat together at a celebration lunch which Irene had prepared, before setting off to Falmouth in Cornwall, prior to a second honeymoon in Madeira the following spring. They were conscious only of each other as they listened to the words of goodwill uttered by the guests—Paul and Ruth, Marion, Edmund Bryant, Helen Crosby and Timothy Wain, who had become part of the circle, much to Emma's satisfaction.

Irene did not underestimate what Emma's marriage would mean to her, but when the inevitable moment of parting came, as Adam and Emma set off in the car, she held Emma closely and said earnestly, 'No worries about me, darling Emma.
Freedom.
I'm living again and your happiness is everything to me. I'll never be able to repay you for all you've done.'

Emma's eyes filled with tears of thankfulness and love. Her fears were over: Irene was living again. She noticed Timothy hovering and was more than hopeful that at some future date he and Irene might be more than friends.

And at last the farewells were over and Adam was saying, as they drove away from the little group waving them goodbye, 'To have you to
myself.'

Emma felt emotion overwhelming her as his hand closed over hers.

It was some few hours later that they reached Cornwall, with its magnificent coastline, spectacular cliffs and sheltered beaches, and arrived at Roseland Manor Hotel, a large pink Cornish stone manor on the outskirts of Falmouth, standing in twenty acres with magnificent views of the sea and natural harbour.

Emma's heart quickened its beat as Adam signed the register.
Dr and Mrs.
A wave of pride, tenderness and love surged over her as their cases were taken up the wide red-carpeted staircase to a minstrel-gallery landing and, finally, to a pink and gold apartment with a magnificent four-poster bed in what was the honeymoon suite. Large floor-to-ceiling windows gave illimitable views of parkland, sea and beaches, and created a picture of splendour. In the sitting-room, a bottle of champagne stood resplendent in its ice bucket, while a beautiful floral arrangement adorned a table in the window.

The porter was smiling. This couple, he thought,
looked particularly happy—it was not automatically the case.

At last, as the door shut, excitement and relief overwhelmed them. They looked at each other almost disbelievingly, desire like a sudden fire within them as they went into each other's arms, his lips parting hers as their bodies clung together in a passionate embrace.

Emma was aware of her heart thudding against his chest, as his against hers. They were alone. . .

Drawing back for breath, looking into each other's eyes, he said hoarsely, 'I love you, my darling.'

'And I you,' she murmured.

When darkness fell and the evening had passed, having a trance-like quality that mesmerised them, they lay together in the soft fielding bed, passion throbbing as his hands caressed her slim body before merging into her and they surged towards that ecstatic all-consuming climax in a rapture of loving, sexuality and tenderness.

Afterwards Emma lay with her head on his shoulder, his lips on her forehead. The sensation of fulfilment relaxed them and they held each other as though their being together was a miracle.

Adam broke a little moment of silence by saying with a deep chuckle, 'For a woman who once refused my kisses, you make a perfect wife!'