42

She didn’t leap up in excitement as they turned for the gallop to the winning post. The crowd on the terrace was in its usual uproar but she simply sat quietly, and Peter had the uneasy feeling her mind had slipped to another place and she was there by herself, not with him or anyone else. The race finished and she didn’t even seem aware of the bustling aftermath—people going off to get drinks, celebrating their winnings or commiserating over their losses.

“Erin …” No response.

He reached over and touched her hands. Her head jerked towards him, eyes wide and startled.

“Where were you?” he asked.

“Oh!” Hot colour whooshed into her cheeks. Embarrassed confusion in her eyes.

“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to drift off. I just do sometimes,” she rattled out apologetically.

Did she have some mental problem?

“It’s nothing to do with you, Peter,” she swiftly assured him.”You’ve been marvellous company. It was watching the horses. They’re so beautiful and it started me thinking…”

She hesitated, fro