'Looks like your aunt and uncle have a visitor,' said Brian Collins as he broughthis rather battered green sports car to a sudden screeching stop behind a gleamingwhite Jaguar car which was parked at the front entrance of the Tudor-styledcreeper-covered cottage.'
'Oh, it's probably someone from the University. Or perhaps one of Uncle Roy'sex-students. I think he said one of them was in the district and might drop in thisweek-end,' replied Delia, picking up her tennis racket and string bag of balls.'Thanks for the lift, Brian, and for the games.'
'Won't we see you later?' asked Sue Martin, who was sitting in the front of the carwith Brian. 'We're all going into Southleigh this evening. There's a newdiscotheque opened on the promenade. I believe it's fabulous. Like to come withus?'
Standing outside the car, Delia looked from Sue to Brian and back to Sue again.By 'we' Sue meant herself and Brian and two other young couples belonging tothe tennis club, all local people whom Delia had known on and off during theyears she had been coming to stay for week-ends and holidays with Marsha andRoy. If she went with them this evening she would be the 'odd girl out', somethingwhich she was often and something which she was beginning to dislike being.
'Thanks for the invite,' she said lightly with her brightest smile and a show of nonchalance. 'I think I'd better stay at home and help entertain the visitor.'
, come on, Delia,' said Sue. 'He's probably some middle-aged generalpractitioner escaped for the week-end from his patients. He's probably a frightfulbore, married and with two or three kids.'