He’d seen something in the papers about a romance with some girl who worked in his office-about as likely as Henshawe becoming a planet-hugger, he’d have thought…

‘Yes?’ he snapped, finally responding to the phone’s insistent ring, never taking his eyes from the screen.

‘It’s Pam Wootton, Nat-’

‘…I realise that I have been too wrapped up in all these new initiatives, visiting overseas suppliers, to give her the support she so desperately needed. To notice how tired she has become, her lack of appetite, her growing dependence on the tranquillisers that were prescribed after the press drove her to move out of the flat she shared with friends-’ Tranquillisers?

Nat felt a cold chill run through him. History repeating itself…

‘She needs rest, time to recover, all my best care and, as soon as I have found her, I will ensure-’ ‘Nat?’

The voice in his ear was so insistent that he realised it wasn’t the first time his PA had said his name.

‘Sorry, Meg, I was distracted,’ he said, still staring at the screen. Then, as the news moved on to another story and he forced himself to concentrate, ‘Pam Wootton? What’s the matter with her?’

‘She’s collapsed. She was down in the grotto when it happened and Frank Alyson has called an ambulance, but I thought you’d want to know.’

‘I’ll be right there.’

‘What are you doing?’

Lucy, teddy-dressing on automatic while her brain frantically free-wheeled-desperately trying to forget the man with the grey eyes and concentrate on thinking about where she could go when the store closed-looked up to find a small boy watching her.

‘I’m wrapping this teddy up in a warm coat. It’s snowing,’ she said, glad of a distraction. Short of a park bench, she was out of ideas. ‘It will be very cold on Santa’s sleigh.’

‘Can I help?’