A fanciful man might have defined her two aspects as the Good Fairy and the Bad Fairy. Darius, who wasn’t fanciful, simply called her ‘that wretched female’.

His father greeted him in typical fashion. ‘So there you are at last. About time too.’

‘An unexpected matter that required my attention.’

Amos grunted. ‘As long as you sorted it out to your advantage.’

‘Naturally,’ Darius said, brushing aside the memory of lying on the sand. ‘Then I got here as soon as I could. I’m glad to see you looking better, Father.’

‘I am better. I keep saying so but my womenfolk won’t believe me. I suppose Freya talked a lot when she collected you from the airport.’

‘I asked her questions and, like a good nurse, she answered them.’

‘Nurse be damned. She’s here as my stepdaughter.’

‘If you say so.’

‘What do you think of her?’

‘She seems a nice girl, what little I’ve seen of her.’

‘She cheers the place up. And she’s a good cook. Better than that so-called professional I employ. She’s doing supper for us tonight. You’ll enjoy it.’

He did enjoy it. Freya produced excellent food, and could crack jokes that lightened the atmosphere. She was pleasant to have around, and Darius found himself wondering why more women couldn’t be like her instead of invading other people’s private property with their sharp remarks and their dangerous dogs.

Awkward. She’d said it herself, and that was exactly right.

After supper, in his father’s study, the two men confronted each other.

‘I gather things aren’t too good?’ Amos grunted.

‘Not for me or anyone else,’ Darius retorted. ‘There’s a global crisis, hadn’t you heard?’

‘Yes, and some are weathering it better than others. That contract you had the big fight over, I warned you how to word the get-out clause, and if you’d listened to me you could have told them where to stuff their legal action.’