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The telephone was jangling as she was pulling off hat and gloves and unwinding her scarf in private frustration. The housekeeper emerged.

‘I’ll get it, Mrs Britten-Jones. You go in. There’s a fire on.’

She mouthed a thank you as the woman lifted the receiver. Alex hoped it was Harry but she could tell it was a call for Matthew when she heard Norma reply that ‘Mr Britten-Jones is not yet returned to the house’. Alex kept moving, seeking the soothing quiet of the salon where just two nights previously Harry had kissed her for the first time. So much had happened in forty-eight hours . . . not only falling in love with someone but realising she had never got past liking the man she’d married and in fact disliked him deeply in this moment. Nevertheless, she’d chosen him and she was now more trapped than ever.

There was a knock and Norma entered. ‘It’s Mr Britten-Jones Senior. He wondered if he could have a word.’

‘Of course.’ Alex moved towards the telephone. ‘My husband will be home only much later. Don’t worry about food. I’ll just have a cocoa and biscuits, if that’s all right?’

‘As you wish,’ the housekeeper replied, lips pursing to show her concern.

‘Thank you.’ It was a dismissal. She picked up the receiver. ‘Chetwin, hello, it’s Alex.’

‘Alexandra, my dear, it’s been too long.’

‘Yes, I was only saying that to Matthew today, in fact.’ She lied because she liked his parents and despite constant urging, couldn’t persuade her husband to visit or have them over. ‘I haven’t thought far ahead enough yet, but let’s plan on all being together for Christmas, shall we?’

‘Splendid idea. Why don’t you all motor down here?’

‘I’ll talk to my parents, but that sounds lovely.’ Even as the gracious words rolled off her tongue she realised this was how her life would be from now on. Polite. She would have to enjoy family and let that be the source of all her affection. She was going to have to learn afresh how to live around Matthew and his absences now that she knew what she was missing out on. ‘How are you both?’

‘Oh, fine, fine. The usual nags at our age.’

‘Yes.’ She smiled. ‘I’m sorry Matthew’s not here. He —’

‘No need to make any excuses, my dear. He was supposed to attend a meeting in London but didn’t show, and I’m in Leeds right now so I can’t be there in his stead. That’s why I’m chasing him.’

‘Oh . . . he was in London, though, surely. I mean, he rang me from there two nights ago.’

‘I see.’ Chetwin sounded aggrieved.

‘Or at least —’ She stopped. Irrespective of her mood, she didn’t think it wise not to be loyal.

‘It’s all right, Alexandra. My wife would cover for me too. Listen, my dear, you said you’ve seen him, so he’s obviously back in York?’

‘Yes. We arrived only a few minutes ago from Harrogate.’

‘Harrogate?’

‘I ran into him, to tell the truth.’ She hadn’t meant to spill this but she did like Matthew’s father and the kindness in his tone was undoing her. ‘I had no idea he was back up north.’

‘Harrogate, you say? What the devil was he doing there?’

‘I gathered he was working. He was with a colleague – they had a meeting at the Crown Hotel. Former staff member, too, I gather. You probably know the man, because he was from Bristol.’

‘Who was the colleague, dear?’ Chetwin’s tone was suddenly blunt.

‘A gentleman by the name of . . . oh, let me see now. That’s right, he was Mr James Feeney.’

There was a pause that despite its silence nevertheless generated a noise in her mind that sounded suddenly like danger. ‘Chetwin?’

‘Er, sorry. I was just trying to place the fellow. I know the man to whom you refer. Feeney, that’s right.’

‘He used to work for your family, I’m told.’

‘He did, yes. Er, look, Alexandra, um, I’ve got some business up in York myself. Maybe I’ll come up.’

‘Really?’