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limp.
    â€˜It’s not so hard, honey.’ Arnold tried to abdicate. ‘You’ll get used to it in no time.’
    Tomorrow,’ I said firmly, ‘we’ll spend the day driving around and looking at the local tourist attractions. You and I will take turns behind the wheel – and we’ll both get used to it.’
    â€˜Aw, but –’
    â€˜Please, Daddy,’ Donna chimed in. ‘You never go anywhere with us.’
    â€˜What are you talking about?’ Arnold was stung. ‘I’ve brought you all over here to England, haven’t I?’
    â€˜And now you’re going to leave us,’ Donald said darkly. ‘Again.’
    â€˜As usual,’ I agreed. ‘You see, Arnold, even the kids are on to you.’
    â€˜This is supposed to be a working trip.’ Arnold set his jaw stubbornly. ‘There’s an awful lot of research to be done. Those archives contain tons of material. I shouldn’t waste a minute getting to them.’
    â€˜If you give yourself a couple of days to recover from the jet-lag, you’ll be fresher when you get to them. Besides,’ I reminded him, ‘we don’t know how late that dinner at the Sandgates’ will run. You may be very happy to sleep late in the morning and then have a lazy day.’
    â€˜Maybe.’ He was grudging, but I could see that I had persuaded him. ‘Well, okay. We’ll get that over with tonight and see how we feel in the morning.’

Four
    Lania opened the door, greeted us with a wide smile and introduced her husband, Richard, who was hovering at her elbow. He was short, dark and just missed being handsome; there was something about his expression that reminded me of Arnold. I was certain that they were going to be good friends – if Arnold could be dragged away from his research long enough to let a friendship develop.
    â€˜And my children: Angela and Peregrine.’ She beckoned them forward to meet Donna and Donald. ‘Now you children run upstairs,’ she commanded. ‘Mrs Thing will give you supper in the nursery before she leaves and you can watch television.’ She turned back to Arnold and me with a moue of distaste. ‘They’re rerunning The Wooden Horse – again. But it does keep the children amused.’
    We followed her through the hallway and into the drawing-room with a sense of slightly out-of-whack déjà vu because the layout was a mirror image of our own quarters. Only to be expected, I suppose, in the sort of house they call semi-detached, but it was disconcerting.
    Especially as there was nothing mirror image about the decor – other-worldly was a more apt description. The colour scheme was silver, black and a pale, shimmering blue. I felt as though I had stepped into an ice cavern. On the far side of the room, a couple who were obviously our fellow guests sat on a huge silver-grey sofa which could have doubled as an iceberg. Their drinks seemed to be floating on air just below their knees until I took a closer look and realized their glasses were resting on an oval sheet of thick blue-green glass set in a narrow black metal framework.
    â€˜Come and meet the others.’ Lania strode across the room with superb disregard for the fragile, shimmering, blue carpet.
    Arnold moved forward gingerly, as though crossing an ice floe. I kept pace with him, looking nervously at the carpet. If only it had been patterned, we could have tried to step on the darker bits just in case we were trailing dirt into the house. One thing was sure: little Angela and Peregine were never allowed into this room or it would not be in such pristine condition. Not unless English kids were a totally different breed of child.
    The man rose from the sofa as we reached it; the woman smiled pleasantly. I caught my breath and slid a sideways look of awe at Lama. I had thought Celia was houseproud, but Lania was Olympic class. Of course, it was possible that