For Peter, there was no such dilemma and he wrapped his arms around her, enjoying being close and feeling the warmth and softness of her tiny body. The small table for two that he'd selected had its own faded glass window and overlooked two wagtails that were scurrying about on the side of the stream below. Old Oak panels formed an intimate alcove around them. It was an ideal romantic setting. Sarah was just imagining how nice it would be for her to be there with David when Peter broke into her thoughts.

"You look wonderful. I could eat you up right now and never miss the meal." His hand found her knee under the table.

"Show me what you have ordered and then I'll decide whether to take you up on that."

She forced a smile.

"Sooner rather than later?"

But the menu was tempting and the fresh sea air had sharpened both their appetites. They ate at the little corner table by the light of flickering candles, talked quietly, gazed into each others eyes and occasionally out of the window.

Soon, as the dusk drew in, the only evidence of the stream outside was the sound of the water rushing over pebbles and stones.

Peter leaned back in his chair and sighed contentedly. Anticipation of the night ahead had for him heightened the flavour of every course. The light from the candle cast one side of his heavy features into shadow.

A folk singer looked over to them. She was a lady in her forties, good looking in a brightly coloured ethnic shirt and jeans but red faced and well padded in a motherly sort of way. She caught Sarah's eye and smiled. In a flash of unspoken communication impossible to explain, Sarah knew it was a smile of sympathy. In some strange way she had seen and understood Sarah's turmoil.

The ladies turn came to sing and the song she chose spoke of heartbreak and of a sadness that no man could ever understand and Sarah knew with a shock the song had been chosen for her.

They met later in the Ladies and smiled at each other in recognition. "Are you all right m'dear", the lady enquired kindly.

"Staying the night with your man in the village"? Her accent, off stage and on, was broad Somerset. Sarah nodded.

"I live at the end of the village on the right in the house with goats in the garden. You can't miss it. Come and see me tomorrow for a chat if you are in need.."

"That's very kind of you", said Sarah, holding back her tears with difficulty. It was a conversation that would normally have appeared out of place between two strangers. Yet the offer of a sanctuary showed the lady was as wise as she was perceptive. Outside in the bar again, the lady's eyes followed Sarah thoughtfully as she threaded her way past fellow diners' back to Peter. Images of the sacrificial lamb strangely came to her mind.

Then, all too soon, the dinner was over, the bill paid and the creaking stairs climbed. At each step Sarah's legs felt heavier. The door was oak brown at the end of the passageway off the landing. It creaked as Peter opened it and shepherded Sarah inside.

"Don't switch the light on", begged Sarah quietly.