‘Some of them want to come in and thank you,’ she said now.

‘Tell them there’s no need. Say you said it for them, and I said all the right things-Happy Christmas, have a nice time-you’ll know how to make it sound good.’

‘Why do you have to try to sound like Scrooge?’

‘Because I am Scrooge,’ he said cheerfully.

‘Liar,’ she said, with the privilege of long friendship. ‘Scrooge would never have let his employees go a day early, the way you’re doing. Most firms keep everyone there until noon, Christmas Eve.’

‘Yes, and what’s the result? Nobody does any work on Christmas Eve morning. Half of them are hung over and they’re all watching the clock. It’s a waste of everyone’s time.’

She laid the newspaper, open at the financial page, on his desk. ‘Did you see this?’

It was the best Christmas gift an entrepreneur could have had. There was a page of laudatory text about Mead Consolidated and its meteoric rise, its impact on the market, its brilliant prospects.

Backing this up was an eye-catching photograph of Alex, his grin at its most engaging, telling the world that here was a man of charisma and confidence who could steer his way skilfully through waters infested by sharks. You would have to look very closely to see that he was one of them.

The picture was cut off halfway down his chest, so it didn’t show the long-limbed body that was just a little underweight. He was thin because he forgot to eat, relying on nervous energy for nourishment, just as he relied on nervous force to make an impact.

It was Alex’s proud boast that he had no nerves. The truth, as Kath knew, was that he lived on them. It was one of the reasons why he looked older than his thirty-seven years, why his smile was so swift and unpredictable, and why his temper was beginning to be the same.

When she’d come to work for him his dark eyes had sparkled with ambition and confidence and his complexion had had a healthy glow. The glow was gone now, and there were too often shadows under his eyes. But he was still a handsome man, only partly through his looks. The rest was a mysterious talisman, an inner light for which there were no words.