He climbed out of his little Morris and walked straight into the kitchen. Rachel’s sewing basket lay on the table. There was no one about. He went through into the hall and stood at the bottom of the stairs, holding the newel post, looking up. ‘Rachel? Evie? Is there anyone there?’ For a moment he thought the place was empty, then he heard a door opening and the rattle of footsteps on the stairs. ‘Tony?’ It was Evie. She hung over the banister on the landing above his head. ‘What are you doing here?’ she whispered. ‘I need to talk to you.’ He took the stairs two at a time and swept her into his arms. For a long moment she clung to him, her whole body melting against his, then she pushed him away. ‘You can’t stay. It’s not safe.’ ‘What do you mean, it’s not safe?’ ‘My parents might see you.’ ‘I don’t care. I want to marry you, Evie. I’ve been thinking and I can’t let all this misunderstanding and delay go on. Let’s do it now. As soon as we can.
