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more than a decade.
    She was in her fifties, with a matronly figure that defeated all dieting and a kindly face that always seemed to be smiling.
    Martin had never seen her depressed, or without a chocolate bar on her desk.
    'No thanks, Jill. And don't put any calls through for the next half an hour or so.' He went inside his office and closed the door.
    He telephoned his bank and asked for the balance of his accounts. There was a little over ten thousand in his current account, another thirty thousand in a deposit account. Martin wrote the numbers down and then called a building society in the Channel Islands. He had a further ninety thousand pounds there, out of the reach of the Irish taxman. He arranged to have it transferred to his current account in Dublin, though he was told that they wouldn't be able to carry out the transfer until they received written confirmation. Martin promised to send a letter by courier.
    His next call was to his stockbroker, Jamie O'Connor.
    Jamie was an old friend - they'd been at school together and lived less than a mile from each other. According to Jamie,
    Martin's stock portfolio was worth just under a quarter of a million pounds.
    'How long would it take to turn it into cash?' Martin asked.
    'Cash? You want to sell them all? Jesus, Martin, I wouldn't recommend that. The market here might be getting a bit toppy,
    but you've got a worldwide portfolio, and besides, you're taking a long-term view, right?'
    'Things change, Jamie.' The shares and bonds had been acquired over a ten-year period and had been intended as Martin's pension fund. It would be easier to liquidate the portfolio than to arrange an overdraft or remortgage the house.
    He could always buy more shares. The company was flourishing,
    and if they went public as planned the shares he'd be placing would be worth millions. 'Could you sell everything by close of business today?'
    'I could, sure. But I wouldn't recommend it. The Irish shares, okay, but your Far Eastern exposure has taken a bit of a tumble recently. I'd suggest you hang on to them. And there's a couple of your holdings that are due to pay their annual dividends next month -- you'd be better off keeping them until they've gone exdividend.'
    'Everything, Jamie.'
    'Martin, are you okay? Has something happened?'
    'Everything's fine. I just need some cash, that's all. Andy's got her heart set on a villa in Portugal and like a fool I agreed to buy it for her. We can afford it, what with the flotation and all.'
    'Well, it's your decision, of course. All I can do is offer my professional advice, and I wouldn't recommend liquidating a perfectly decent portfolio of shares to buy a villa in Portugal.'
    'Advice noted, Jamie. Close of business today, right?'
    There was a slight hesitation from the broker, as if he was about to argue but then decided not to press the point. 'Consider it done.'
    'And put the money straight into my current account with Allied Irish, will you?'
    'Oh, now that's just being silly, Martin. You'll be throwing away the interest.'
    'I'm going to need it in a hurry. Do you need written confirmation?'
    'No need. All the firm's conversations are recorded. Look,
    are you sure about this?'
    'Dead sure, Jamie. Look, I've got another call. I'll talk to you again soon.'
    Martin put down the phone. A quarter of a million pounds, plus the money already in the bank, gave him a total of three hundred and eighty thousand pounds. Surely that would be enough? He sat at his desk with his head in his hands. What if it wasn't? What if they wanted more? What would he do then?
    'Something to drink?' asked the stewardess.
    The voice jolted Andy out of her daydream. 'Sorry?'
    The plastic smile was a little less friendly, as if the stewardess resented having to ask twice. 'Would you like a drink?'
    Andy shook her head. The stewardess served the elderly couple who were sitting next to Andy and pushed her trolley down the aisle. Andy closed her eyes. Images of Katie filled her