First published in 1964 by Mills & Boon Limited, 50 Grafton Way.Fitzroy Square. London. England*
This edition published 1965
©Sara
Seale 1964 Printed in CanadaCHAPTER ONE
Trish
said with teenage relish: "He's probably as bonkers as the other two—and that's saying something!" Bill observed with more mature reflection, thatpersonally he thought it was rushing things, and their mother said plaintively:"If you'd only let us
know,
darling, we could have explained about our ownplans."They all three looked at Gilly, who had descended upon them at such aninopportune moment, expecting her usual welcome, and sat there smilingback at them with that engaging, but at times exasperating, air of unconcern.And of course it was natural that she should since her visits were alwayswelcome, Mary Hastings thought, sighing as she looked round at the chaos ofher orderly flat, wondering why the place should go to pieces the moment thehead of the house was no in residence. Half-packed suitcases littering thefloors, drawers and cupboards standing open where Trish had rummaged forarticles her mother had mislaid, dirty cups and saucers pushed on the tops offurniture because in the hectic throes of imminent departure no one hadthought to wash up; Trish's transistor set going full blast, and Gilly arriving inthe middle of it all to beg her accustomed hospitality.
"Darlings, how lovely to see you!" she had cried, not for a moment uncertain ofher welcome. "I'm between uncles—can you give me a bed for a fortnight? . . .How's Nancy? . . . Did the wedding go with a swing, and did she look lovely?"Mary had replied somewhat distractedly that it was a pity Gilly was obligedto miss the wedding, as Nancy had wanted her one-time school friend forbridesmaid, and what did Gilly mean by being between uncles?"I'm doing the rounds—that peculiar will of father's, you know—and the unclesreally do exist. I've done two of them."Mary, if she had not been so exercised with the familiar qualms and doubtswhich always assailed her on the eve of travelling by air, would certainly haveremembered the terms of that ridiculous will which no one had taken veryseriously when old John Flower had died a year ago, but then the Flowersthemselves, apart from Gilly, could not be taken too seriously, since they neverappeared in the flesh."It's the third uncle's turn, you see," Gilly had explained. "Only I'm not expectedtill the second week in August, so I thought if you-""Oh, darling, I'm terribly sorry. If you'd only let us
know
—oh,dear! Well,perhaps you could stay for a bit with Bill and Trish until they go away," Marysaid vaguely, to be shouted down by her teenage daughter."Ma! You're never with it! The flat'll be shut up—you
know
Bill and I aregoing to the Johnsons for that fete thing and I
can't
miss it, ghastly though it'llbe, because Barney Bircham is opening it and he's simply
fab!"
shrieked Trish.Her mother sighed. Bill, thank goodness, had grown out of his adolescentquirks and settled down nicely at Oxford, but Trish was going through a mosttiresome stage of noisy uncouthness and wouldn't wash her hair."Barney who?" Mary asked blankly. "Is he another of these dreadful popsingers?" Gilly had kissed her quickly and said not to worry, she would send awire; Trish's transistor went on emitting its accustomed noises, joined now by
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