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half-term. From my first marriage,’ she added, seeing the question in Rona’s eyes. ‘Theo had three sons, but we’d no children together.’
    â€˜How long were you married?’ Rona asked.
    â€˜Twelve years, but we’d been together for fifteen. The divorce took a while.’
    â€˜How does his other family feel about this? His first wife, or her sons? Have you mentioned it to them?’
    Meriel gave a brief laugh. ‘We’re not on speaking terms, but I’m sure they’d talk to you.’ She stood up quickly. ‘Let me show you his study.’
    She led Rona back across the hall to a room overlooking the garden. It was not large – some twelve feet square – and every inch of wall space was filled with bookshelves, many of them packed with different editions of Harvey’s own books. The furniture consisted of a leather armchair, two filing cabinets, and a desk on which, to Rona’s surprise, stood an electric typewriter. Catching her glance, Meriel smiled.
    â€˜Theo was a computer Luddite. Not that he did much work here anyway; he retreated to his cottage in the country for months on end, writing everything out in longhand. Then he’d come home with a pile of folders, read them all through again, and send them off to a secretarial agency. It was only the last two he laboriously typed himself.’
    â€˜Why was that?’
    She shrugged. ‘I’ve no idea.’
    â€˜Are his manuscripts here?’ Rona enquired, despite herself.
    â€˜Apart from those he donated to an American university. My cousin brought the last one back from the cottage.’
    â€˜You still have the cottage?’
    Meriel nodded. ‘I haven’t got round to dealing with it yet.’ She smiled. ‘You
are
interested, aren’t you?’
    Rona smiled back. ‘I admit I’m curious,’ she said, ‘which is often the first step to becoming hooked. But there are several things to consider; for one, I hadn’t planned on doing a biography this year.’
    â€˜Are you working on something else?’
    â€˜I’m doing a series of articles for a magazine, and I have several other ideas in the pipeline.’
    â€˜How soon can you give me an answer?’
    â€˜Well, I’d like to discuss it with my husband, and there won’t be a chance till the weekend. I don’t always take his advice, but talking it over helps crystallize my thoughts, and he usually has valid points to make. If I decide to go ahead, I’ll get on to my agent and he’ll start on the groundwork, but either way, I’ll let you know as soon as I reach a decision.’
    â€˜Which will be – when?’
    â€˜In a week or so?’
    â€˜Fine.’
    â€˜If I say no, have you anyone else in mind?’
    â€˜Let’s just say you’re top of the list.’
    Rona laughed. ‘I’m flattered.’
    The chime of the doorbell reached them, and then voices in the hall.
    Meriel Harvey moved to the door. ‘That sounds like my cousin. He’s been my rock since Theo died. Come and meet him.’
    The man who turned towards them was tall and broad-shouldered. Having disposed of his jacket, now draped over a chair, he was dressed in a rust cable-knit sweater and brown cords. His dark hair was thick and unruly, his hands and face deeply tanned – which, since it was February, suggested that he’d recently been abroad.
    â€˜Meriel!’
    As Rona took her inventory, he was coming towards them. He gave her a quick smile as he put his hands on Mrs Harvey’s shoulders and kissed both her cheeks. Then he turned to Rona.
    â€˜And this must be the proposed biographer?’ Her hand was swallowed up in his large brown one. ‘I’ve been talking to your dog through the car window. Lovely animal.’
    â€˜Oh, I didn’t realize!’ Meriel exclaimed. ‘Is he all right, or would you like to bring him