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coal-face know-how.
    Maybe all fathers thought that of their sons. Perhaps if Stirling had wanted to follow in his own father’s footsteps and be a heart surgeon, his father might have always doubted his capabilities. It was the same in the animal kingdom: the male lion – the head of the pride – never accepts his cub has come of age.
    He stepped out of the lift and smiled at the analogy. He hoped he’d never have to fight his own cub.
    The day flew by, and at the end of it, when Stirling had dealt with the last phone call and given the last instruction to Joanne, his highly efficient personal assistant of fifteen years, and ordered her to go home to her husband, he slipped some papers into his briefcase to read later that night and walked along the deserted carpeted corridor to Neil’s office.
    After the strategy meeting had broken up, he’d asked Neil if he could have a word with him when they’d finished for the day. It seemed to him that Neil was definitely not his usual self. He’d been visibly distracted during the meeting they’d chaired together, and at one point, when Rosco had been asking him a direct question, he’d appeared not to hear and Rosco had jokingly tapped the table and asked if anyone was at home. Neil had quickly pulled himself together, but not before Stirling had caught the troubled expression that flickered across his brother’s face.
    Cecily had been right, he concluded, there most certainly was something wrong with Neil. Usually his brother was one hundred per cent on the ball; nothing got past him, and he’d be the first to rap someone’s knuckles during a meeting if they weren’t paying strict attention.
    Neil’s office door was closed, and out of courtesy – his brother might have a client with him – Stirling knocked and waited. There was no reply. He pressed the handle down and pushed the door open. There was no sign of Neil; the office was empty.
    Frowning, Stirling took the lift downstairs. Out in the car park, he saw that his brother’s Porsche was gone. Had Neil simply forgotten about meeting him after work? Or – as unlikely as it sounded – was he avoiding him?

Chapter Five
    He drove home and tried ringing Neil from his car. The call went straight to voicemail. He left a message: ‘Hey, what happened to our chat after work?’
    A matching pair of Range Rovers was parked on the drive at Willow Bank. Nobody had told him that Scarlet and Rosco were coming to dinner. Not that his family had to report in to him with their every movement, and anyway, his children were welcome to visit any time they wanted.
    He found everyone outside on the terrace, a glass jug of Pimm’s on the table. ‘Hello, darling,’ his wife greeted him from her chair. ‘We decided that since it’s such a lovely evening, we’d have dinner out here. That OK with you?’
    He kissed her cheek. ‘Of course.’ He went over to his daughter and kissed her. ‘How’s my favourite grandchild coming along?’ he asked.
    ‘Still making me throw up,’ she said with a grimace.
    Rosco laughed. ‘Just wait till it’s born, then you’ll really know what throwing up’s about. You’ll be covered in the stuff. And a lot more besides.’
    Scarlet threw a pistachio nut at her brother. ‘Don’t be so gross, or I’ll make sure you get covered in more than your fair share of whatever is going.’
    Stirling moved round the table to where Charlie was standing awkwardly to attention, waiting to shake hands with him. You’d think that after two years of being married to Scarlet he would have realized there was no need for him to be so formal, but no matter how many times it had been pointed out to him, not just by Stirling but by Scarlet, he still insisted on doing it, and as a consequence, Stirling was forced to go along with the tiresome charade. ‘Charlie?’ he said affably. ‘How’s things?’
    ‘Fine, sir,’ Charlie said, pumping away at Stirling’s hand, ‘just fine. And you?’
    It was the