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farewell been merely solicitous, or was he seriously advising her not to go ahead?
    Rona glanced at her watch. It was just before two; with luck, Max would still be on his lunch break. She picked up the phone, and when he answered, enquired, ‘Time for a quick chat?’ On Thursdays he taught at the local art school, with the evening, as usual, given over to his private students.
    â€˜As long as it really is quick. How was the interview?’
    â€˜Interesting. Meriel Harvey’s decidedly jumpy, but she’s anxious for me to take it on.’
    â€˜And you?’
    â€˜I still don’t know. Pity you’re not free this evening, so we could discuss it.’
    â€˜Not a hope, sweetie.’
    â€˜She’s his second wife and not on speaking terms with his other family, so whether they’ll co-operate is anyone’s guess.’
    â€˜Well, it won’t be the first time you’ve come across that hurdle. I’m sure you can charm them out of any objections.’
    â€˜I also met her cousin,’ Rona continued, doodling on her notebook. ‘He told me privately that he wouldn’t blame me for turning it down, and not to feel pressured.’
    â€˜As in, forget it?’
    â€˜That was my impression.’
    â€˜Look, I’ll have to go. We can thrash out the pros and cons tomorrow evening.’
    Regretfully she put down the phone, consigned the cold sandwich to the bin and helped herself to some fruit. She had an article to deliver that afternoon, and was grateful that a change in mindset was called for. Theo Harvey had occupied most of her waking thoughts in the last twenty-four hours.
    The dog, asleep in his basket, opened one eye as she took his lead off its hook, and was at her heels before she reached the foot of the stairs.
    The offices of
Chiltern Life
, an illustrious monthly magazine, were at the top end of Dean’s Crescent, just short of Guild Street. As she passed the Italian restaurant, Rona glanced through the windows, noting that their lunch trade seemed as brisk as their evening one. Two business men were seated in what she thought of as ‘our alcove’, engaged in earnest discussion. Her thoughts went back to the previous evening, and Max’s reservations about the Harvey prospect. She doubted if what she had to report would change his mind.
    She followed the curve of the crescent, still deep in thought, until she could see the traffic on Guild Street streaming past the end of the road, and the imposing offices of
Chiltern Life
on her left. She crossed the road and went through the swing doors into the foyer, where the receptionist greeted her with a smile.
    â€˜Hi, Rona. If you’re on your way to Barnie, why not leave Gus with me? I’ll look after him.’
    â€˜Thanks, Poll.’ Rona handed over his lead. The feature editor’s office was small, and the dog’s waving tail constantly threatened the files and papers piled all around it. ‘Is he free, do you know?’
    â€˜As a bird,’ Polly replied, and turned her attention to Gus, who was trying to lick her face. Rona, leaving them to it, took the stairs to the first floor and made her way through the busy open-plan office to the cubicle assigned to Barnie Trent. She tapped on the door, and, at his shout, went in.
    â€˜Rona! I was just thinking about you.’
    â€˜I’m not late with this, am I? I thought the deadline was next week?’
    â€˜It is – my thoughts were of a social nature. Dinah was saying it’s a long time since she’s seen you.’
    Barnie Trent was in his early fifties, over six feet and with a high domed forehead from which such hair as he had was rapidly retreating. His temper was legendary at
Chiltern Life
, though it had never been directed at Rona. They’d known each other since she first joined the magazine, and when she’d met his wife at an early office party, a friendship had developed which, before