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of either set of genes. For his sake, Christina had denied herself the lovers she would have taken without a qualm of conscience about Arthur. Nothing must upset her boy. No divorce must interfere with his education and development. His life must never be blighted by a broken home. Instead it was blighted by his parents’ mutual hatred, and his own role of manipulator. She had taken the message from Arthur’s secretary, and felt elated at the arrival of her brother. She had been very close to Julius from childhood, right through to the time when she defied him and married Arthur. She had refused to listen to him, and paid the penalty of nearly thirty years’ unhappiness. She had never told him what went wrong, she didn’t need to; she was sure he guessed. He’d said at the time of her engagement, ‘He’s a bloody little wimp! His balls are in his brain, Christa … he won’t make you happy …’ She was sure he knew why the marriage was so patently wretched. Now he was coming to London, and that must mean trouble for Arthur.
    She had been reading when Arthur came back. She put the book down and said, ‘There’s a message for you. By the telephone.’ She didn’t say what it was. She just watched his face as he read it. He recognized her writing. He couldn’t keep that a secret. He nerved himself.
    â€˜Julius is coming over,’ he said.
    â€˜I know,’ she slipped a marker between the pages of her book. ‘I wonder why? Something your end must have gone wrong.’
    â€˜Why my end!’ he demanded irritably. ‘Why must you assume that I’m at fault? But then you can’t help it.’ He turned away, threw the scrap of paper in the waste-basket.
    â€˜Because Julius wouldn’t come over at this time of year and bring all the others back from holiday unless there was a real crisis, and it’s not back home, or I would have heard. So …’ she lingered on the word, ‘… it must be London. And that’s you, isn’t it?’
    He had been playing this game for so many weary years. He was tired. ‘If you say so,’ he shrugged. Indifference was his best defence. Christina thrived on arguments. ‘Anyway, I shall know in two days’ time.’
    â€˜I see those Americans are coming over,’ she said. His secretary had volunteered answers to all her questions. She had always been charming to Arthur’s staff. That way they told her things he didn’t want her to know.
    â€˜The Wassermans … Yes … you know, he’s a director.’
    â€˜I hope you’re not going to ask them down here,’ she said. ‘Dreadful old bores. I couldn’t think of anything to say to either of them … and you asked them to stay …’
    â€˜I won’t do it this time,’ Arthur said quietly. ‘You made them so uncomfortable that they wouldn’t want to again. I shall take them out in London.’
    Christina picked up her book. She felt that she had won that round. ‘Thank God for that,’ she said. ‘I am surprised Julius didn’t call you personally. Just sending a message by that awful Reece seems rather offhand. Or don’t you think so? I do. Very casual, as if you didn’t count more than any of the others …’
    In spite of himself, Arthur’s pale face flushed. She knew the weak spot and she dug into it without mercy. Julius despised him, and treated him accordingly. Arthur believed, wrongly in this instance, that his wife had confided their domestic differences to her brother. He bore her a deep, cold hatred for that betrayal.
    â€˜He’s busy,’ he said coldly. ‘Probably doesn’t want to come over. He doesn’t mean to hurt intentionally. He’s not like you.’ He turned and walked out. He never slammed a door. He heard her laugh as he closed it.
    Trouble. She was right, of course. He had an instinct for