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cruel.’
    Minella’s young, romantic heart ached for her. How could anyone walk out on a girl as beautiful as Annette, so poised and tall and blonde? With youthful fervour she declared that if ever she came across the man she would tell him exactly what she thought of such despicable behaviour. How Annette had laughed!
    ‘Well, Greg would never do an awful thing like that,’ Minella had declared. ‘When you meet him you’ll know all men are not worthless. You’ll love him, just like I do.’
    And that was how it was, except that Annette loved him enough to say she would marry him. It had brought Minella a little closer to her mother, who had resented the marriage bitterly at first, but there was no one as dear to her as her brother and his wife.
    Now she would never see either of them again, and her grief was too deep for tears. She felt completely empty, devoid of all emotion, and all she could do was stare at the blank wall until sleep mercifully claimed her once more.
    The next day she was stronger. In the night she had woken up to hear rain beating on the window, and the sound of it had unleashed a flood of tears which she had shed almost silently until all her crying was done. She was alone now and in a foreign land where no one would want to be burdened with her sorrow, so the sooner she picked up the pieces and faced her situation the easier it would be. There was no one to fight her battles, no one to give her advice, and she was answerable to no one but herself. For a moment the outlook was too bleak to contemplate, but Minella always faced life bravely, and the practice she had had stood her in good stead.
    As soon as it was light she got up and dressed in the sweat-shirt and jeans she had been wearing when she was rescued. Benita had washed them for her. Then she walked out into the garden on shaky legs which didn’t seem to belong to her.
    The air was beautiful and the smell of the earth after rain reminded her of the park in Brighton. But nothing was less like Brighton than the breathtaking view of the lake, like a jewel amidst the lush green vegetation and scintillating as a diamond in the early morning sun.
    At the edge of the garden was a fence where bougainvillaea splashed red and purple disguise over the old wooden panels, and as she walked beside it she came unexpectedly upon a path that dropped steeply away from the cultivated spread of lawn and flowers. She stood at the narrow opening, so well hidden that only close inspection revealed it was there, and was lured by the pull of secrecy it suggested. The path itself was not overgrown. Once past the concealed divide it widened out and steps had been cut at intervals to make the going easier. Minella took it slowly, wishing she had her normal bouncing energy, for she would have loved to take the steep descent at a run, but by the time she reached the bottom she was so tired she wondered how she would find the strength for the climb back. She must have been out of her mind to attempt it, but she had never been able to resist exploring interesting places. This time it hardly seemed worth the effort. There was only the lake and a grove of trees that looked like beech, the leaves still catching the pink tints of an Azorean dawn.
    Then she saw the little stone building beyond the trees, and straight away curiosity conquered all physical weakness. The path now led down below the tree line and she followed it until she was almost at the water’s edge and was walking over a greyish-black sand. The hut was to the right and she came to it just as the sun rose high enough to shine on creeper-covered walls where the flowers were as big as trumpets, and would go on bathing it in light until it was well past its zenith.
    It was very warm already, and she hadn’t realised how exhausted she was, but having reached her goal she would not be beaten until she had seen what was inside the hut. It was a squat, square building with just one room, and the wooden door was