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long time she gazed down at the snapshot and then, swallowing a
painful lump in her throat, she replaced it exactly as she had found
it. Not that she believed it had been left like that by Conon; she
knew that Katrina had been in here earlier and must have dusted the
table along with the rest of the furniture. It would have fallen out as
Katrina put down the book, but somehow Alana felt compelled to
leave both book and snapshot as she had found them..
But the following day she returned to the room, urged by some
absurd misgiving that, on his return, Conon would look at the book
and snapshot, and suspect his wife of having tampered with the
book and in so doing had come upon the photograph, which she had
inadvertently let slip from the book as she laid it back on the table.
'I'm so silly,' she was telling herself as she opened the book to put
the snapshot inside. 'Conon wouldn't suspect me of meddling ' She
stopped and swung round on hearing the firm yet quiet tread on the
landing outside the door. You're - you're early,' she stammered,
aware of the colour draining from her face. 'I didn't expect you y-
yet--' She swallowed, staring into her husband's dark, set
countenance.
''What are you doing?' he snarled, his eyes resting on the book,
which she held in one hand, and then travelling to the snapshot,
which she held in the other. 'Put that down!'
"I'm sorry, Conon,' she faltered, placing the snapshot on the table.'I
didn't mean -1 wouldn't '
'Why are you in this room?' he demanded, reducing the distance
between them. 'What have you been doing?'
'Nothing. I came in and saw that the snapshot had fallen from the
book, so I decided to put it back.' Some small measure of strength
had entered into her and she was able to look up into his face even
though the features were twisted into ugly lines. 'Conon, there's no
reason for you to be angry.' Quietly she spoke and for one fleeting
moment he was arrested by this. But his temper rose again, fanned
to a point where he just had to inflict some physical hurt upon her.
She cried out as her arm was seized, but his grip only tightened
more viciously and her eyes filled with tears.
'That photograph! What have you been doing with it?'
Alana looked mistily at him, potently aware of her love, and
wondering in this moment if her husband could possibly feel for her
anything except hate. His eyes burned like embers, his mouth was
open, showing his teeth against the drawn-back lips that pressed
tightly against them.
'I'll tell you everything,' she said, and proceeded to do so even
though she was suffering agony from the grip he had on her arm.
'And now you know why I was here, at this particular time,' she
ended, and only then did he release her, stepping back after taking
up the snapshot of his son.
He had quietened and now his gaze was transferred to his wife.
'It's my child,' he said softly, almost reverently. You knew it was,
didn't you?'
She nodded and admitted that what he said was correct. He then
wanted to know how she had come to hear of the child and,
unwilling to expose Katrina, Alana sidetracked by saying his son
had been mentioned by the people living in the castle. He nodded
then and seemed dazed, too dazed even to remind her that he had
forbidden her to visit the castle again, or ask if in fact §he had done
so, while he was away from home.
'Yes, they know of him, although I don't know how.'
'He was a lovely child,' said Alana gently, deep compassion in her
tone, for Conon was like an old man, a man who would let go of his
hold on life if he could. His face, still twisted, was grey, and his
eyes terribly anguished. His long thin fingers caressed the snapshot
for a moment, but then he put it down and without a word went into
the bathroom. For a long moment Alana remained there, motionless,
her heart pounding wildly against her ribs. She heard the water
issuing from the taps and, turning, went into her own room. It was
unfortunate, in a way, that, having returned early, Conon should
have come upon her like that. And yet, conversely, Alana was glad
that he now knew she was aware that he had had a son.
At dinner he was morose, but later spoke to her, in his customary
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