‘On what?’

‘Too many things that even I don’t know about, not yet.’

‘You’ve frightened me.’ That wasn’t true. She was irritated at his refusal.

‘I’m sorry. I didn’t mean… oh shit!’

‘We are going to talk about it,’ Alice insisted. ‘If not now then soon. Talk about it and fix it.’

‘I’d like to think we could: that I could.’

‘We can.’

‘I have to go.’

‘Talk to him this afternoon.’

‘Yes.’

‘Call me later, if you can?’

‘If I can.’

Alice remained in bed, watching him dress, loving him. As he moved to leave she said: ‘Whatever it is, it can’t be the end of the world.’

Carver kissed her, holding her tightly against him for several moments, but left without replying.

With the concentration upon the annual conference it was easier than usual for Carver to plan his days to include Alice, leaving himself with only two, easily satisfied clients and the morning’s dictated letters to sign.

When he called his father-in-law, George Northcote said: ‘You just caught me. Got a meeting here in town tonight: staying over.’

‘We need to talk, George.’

‘Tomorrow. My meeting’s at six, so we’ll talk tomorrow. Lunch maybe?’

‘Now, George!’ insisted Carver. ‘It’s important.’

‘What the hell are you talking about?’

‘You. Me. The firm. Everything. That’s what I think I’m talking about. Everything.’

Two

‘There’d better be a hell of a good reason for this!’ greeted Northcote. The voice was big, like everything about the man. He remained seated at the antique desk, hunched over it, bull-shouldered beneath a mane of white hair. It was a familiar, confrontational pose Carver had seen the other man adopt dozens of times with IRS inspectors and company tax lawyers and opposition, challenging accountants.