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down and smiled casually at her.
    ‘How is she?’ asked Phoebe, who hadn’t had the opportunity to find out herself.
    ‘She’s got a-asparagus b-b-beetle,’ Duncan said.
    Phoebe quizzed Duncan about his youngest brother as they drove through the village the following evening. It was hard work. She managed to exhume a few bones of information, but no meat. His first wife had been 17 and pregnant when Rick married her, and they had subsequently had two boys. Her name was Poppy Schaffner and she was an American. They had got divorced after only three years. Poppy’s parents had then got her into a sort of mental hospital in the States and Rick had got custody of the children. He had subsequently married Elenira, a Brazilian girl aged 16, who was beautiful but dumb, and who had killed herself after six months, with the baby she was carrying.
    ‘How dreadful!’ Phoebe exclaimed. ‘But what about the children?’
    ‘They have a r-resident n-nanny,’ Duncan said.
    ‘But they must be so confused and upset?’ Phoebe said.
    ‘They’re n-not easy,’ Duncan said.
    ‘Will they be with him?’
    ‘D-Doubt it. They st-stay in London while he’s w-working.’
    ‘How old are they now?’
    ‘Um … t-ten and eight, I think.’
    They turned into the drive down a green tunnel formed from an avenue of tall lime trees, and bumped over its stony surface towards the big house.
    ‘Ten’s a nice age,’ Phoebe said, ‘before the terrible teens.’ A thought struck her. ‘Why does Rick always marry such young girls? Can’t he cope with real women?’ The van slowed at a sharp bend in the drive, and the north side of the square grey house came into view.
    ‘Ask him,’ Duncan said. ‘The-There he is.’
    Rick had parked his silver sports car in the yard in front of them, below one of the many dark yews which overhung the stone outbuildings and gave the approach to the house a gloomy shut-in feel. He had just got out, and was pulling a bulky holdall from the passenger seat. He looked, Phoebe thought, even at a distance, very smooth; polished almost. He had the strong familycharacteristics of the Moons, Phoebe already knew, but he was more like their father than the other brothers.
    Duncan parked their old van next to Rick’s car and Phoebe, who had bent down to do up one of her sandals, found Rick at her side, opening and holding the door wide for her to get out. She was surprised and not a little flattered at such an old-fashioned display of courtesy.
    ‘Oh! Thanks,’ she said. It sounded inadequate. She shuffled out rather awkwardly and smoothed down her dress.
    ‘How d’you do?’ he said. ‘And not before time!’ Without touching her, he ushered her towards the front door, calling over his shoulder to his brother.
    ‘Hi, Dunc. I’m just kidnapping the little woman, okay?’ He turned mischievous eyes onto Phoebe and winked in confident complicity. His eyes were very blue and took on a new intensity when he smiled. Phoebe had seen him several times on television and, although impressed by his acting, had been put off by his public image and quite expected to dislike the real man. She had been wrong; here in person he was charm itself. She glanced quickly behind her. Duncan was reaching into the back of their van for the bottle of wine they had brought.
    ‘Don’t worry about my big brother,’ Rick said. ‘He has you all the time, the lucky so-and-so. How are the parents, then? It’s a long time since I’ve seen them.’
    Phoebe’s mind was a blank. After a pause, she said, ‘Hope has asparagus beetle.’
    ‘How shameful!’ Rick said, roaring with laughter. ‘I do hope it isn’t catching.’
    ‘Not personally,’ Phoebe said hurriedly. ‘I didn’t mean …’ She stopped, feeling foolish.
    Rick was staring at the top of her head. ‘I’ve always loved hair your colour,’ he said, ‘passionate red.’
    Dinner was a formal affair with Peter very much in charge. A large joint of beef was brought in from