The inset, too, was clearly plastic and not leather. Nothing he could do about it now though. From a bottom drawer of the desk Deaken took a duster and wiped the desk top, then the sparsely filled filing cabinet and after that the windowsill. He slanted the Venetian blinds, lessening the light coming into the room, and then looked over his shoulder. Better, he decided. Not much better. He dusted the telephone which rarely rang, returned the cloth to its drawer, and from the one above took out his clean notepad; there were six pencils in a cup to the right, all needle sharp. That’s how he’d occupied the last hour of the previous day.

It was ridiculous to continue like this. He had to do something. And do it soon. The erosion of self-confidence had been insidious. A run of bad trial results-not surprising considering the sort of trials they were-and he had suddenly decided to take a rest. Expand my experience in civil litigation, he’d told everyone. Except that he hadn’t been offered any civil litigation and doubts about his own ability had intensified, until now he wasn’t sure if he could handle a case even if it were offered. Help, he thought, that’s what he needed. Professional medical help. There would be no reason for Karen to know he was having treatment. Easy enough to arrange appointments and sessions during the day.

What about the real cause of the rows and their increasingly strained relationship? He was frightened of parenthood, Deaken admitted to himself. Of seeing Karen balloon into awkward ugliness, nine months of worrying whether the child would be bom properly formed and not with some mental or physical disability. Was he unusual, thinking like that? Unnatural even? He knew Karen was determined to become pregnant; just as he was determined against it. Get the job settled first, he thought. The baby could come later. Richard Deaken, on the run again.

Because of the glass fronting he was aware of the shadowed approach, even before the peremptory knock on the door. Deaken just managed to stand before the man got into the room. He was tall and broad-shouldered, with clipped fair hair and a sun-tanned, open face; the sort of man to play rugby or tennis, Deaken thought.