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the gramophone through and played the loudest music they had, took out a pack of cards and made Ralph concentrate on a game of Racing Demon.
    Finally, as the darkness faded into the grey shapes of morning, the gunfire fell silent. They took down the quilt and the first birdsong began to seep in through the shutters. Mr Gardiner pulled on his coat and went down to the bar a few houses away.
    He came back white and shaken, and forbade them to leave the house. The soldiers from the barracks and anyone suspected of sympathising with the advancing troops of Franco had been machine gunned to death in the sandy arena of the Valencia bullring. Three thousand people.
    Everyone with a British passport was given safe passage to the coast, but Mr Gardiner was staying at the bank. He said the argument was between the Spanish peoples; they would not harm the British. Mama wept and clung to Ralph, but they were only taking childrenon the first boat out. He was to be met off the boat train by Aunt Flora, and Mama would follow on as soon as she could find a place on another.
    But in the days after Ralph’s boat sailed the Spanish borders were closed. The civil war that was to tear Spain apart had begun and it would be a long, long time before he would see Mama again.

CHAPTER 5
    Fourwinds, 1981
    On the other side of the bed Alice had stilled, ambushed by sleep, but Ralph remained wide awake. The ring that Sarah had dropped on the desk a few hours ago had been left on the bedside table. He lay and looked at the pale stones glimmering in the darkness, the strange way they had of gathering and reflecting any small source of light, even at night. He sighed. In a few more hours he’d have to get up and collect Nicky from the train, break the news to him. He’d be alone, his brothers not due back till the supposed day of the wedding.
    His eyes dry with fatigue, deeply tired but sleepless, Ralph got up and belted his dressing gown. He made his way softly down the wide staircase to make a hot cocoa.
    There was a light on in the sitting room. Pushing the door open a little way he saw that Sarah’s father was still up, seated at the desk in a circle of lamplight, writing with concentration. The room around him was shaded away, the aunts indistinct figures in their portraits. No one had drawn the curtains against the summer night, the glass black and polished, reflecting Ralph’s form as he stood framed in the doorway.
    Peter looked up, startled. ‘Oh Ralph. Did I wake you? I’m so sorry.’ He showed a couple of fingers of whisky that he had poured out into a crystal tumbler. ‘I hoped you wouldn’t mind.’
    â€˜Think I’ll join you with that whisky.’ He picked up a second glass from the tray on the chest, glancing over at the paper where Peterhad been writing, but didn’t like to ask questions. ‘Sarah’s sleeping?’
    â€˜The doctor left a sedative. He thinks there’s a chance her voice might come back in the morning. When she’s had chance to calm down.’
    Ralph sat down in the armchair by the desk and Peter laid down his pen. ‘Did you manage to get through to Nicky?’
    â€˜No. But I’ll pick him up at the station in a few hours, so . . .’
    â€˜Ralph, I just wanted you to know that if it should come to pass, if things don’t go ahead, I want to cover all the costs.’
    Ralph held up his hand, made a hushing noise. ‘Bride’s nerves. I’m sure she’ll be fine in a couple of days. A good rest and then she’ll be on top form again for the big day.’
    â€˜I hope so. But I have to tell you, the last time she couldn’t talk it took a while to fade. Weeks.’ He sighed and leaned back in his chair. ‘I can’t say I understand what’s happened. She’s been so very happy, so looking forward to the future.’
    â€˜Nicky’s the same. Never seen a chap more head over heels. You get a