‘Josef needs me,’ his father would say, pathetically unable to see that his younger brother didn’t need him in the slightest; that his younger brother had never done anything but manipulate him to his own advantage.

In the past, as a schoolboy, he had often secretly felt grateful for that manipulation, for if Josef had never bullied his father into handing over control and ownership of the steelworks, he, Max, would have been heir to the House of Remer, not Claus. And that he wouldn’t have liked at all.

Freedom from inheriting such a burden was, for him, a good consequence of Josef’s unpleasantly domineering personality. The disturbing side of it was the way he had ensured that Berthold thought exactly as he did with regard to National Socialism.

That Claus had become a Nazi was bad enough—but Max could at least understand what his cousin’s motivation had been. The House of Remer was Claus’s legacy and he wanted his legacy be in good order when he inherited it. To that end he had long believed the only real opponent to communism in Germany was National Socialism. And in that he had, of course, been proved right.

Claus would, he was sure, eventually see that one evil had been prevented only by the perpetration of an even greater evil. He doubted that his father would ever see such a light, or certainly not until Josef saw it first.

‘Photographs,’ Violet said, heaving her mighty weight to her feet. ‘I want one of the bride and groom and Emily Elise first. Then one of Vicky with her father. Then one of the happy couple with Max and Paul. And then a group photograph with everyone in it.’

‘Great Scott, Violet! It isn’t a royal wedding!’ Arthur Hudson protested, well knowing that his protest was going to be in vain. ‘The next thing you’ll be wanting is a photograph of Vicky and Adam with Tinker!’

‘Thank you for reminding me, Arthur. I most certainly do want a photograph of them with Tinker. Max? Are you going for Emily Elise? Please make sure Tinker comes back with you, will you?’

His two days at home were extremely joyous ones and when it was time for him to leave, Vicky insisted on driving him to Little Ridding herself.

‘It’s great to see you so happy, Ma,’ he said as she drove at a decorous thirty miles an hour beside the banks of the Ure.

She turned her head, flashing him a wide, sunny smile. ‘It’s great to be so happy.’

They motored on in silence for a little way and then she said, ‘Is there no young lady in your life, Max? There is usually a girlfriend with you when you come to Shuttleworth Hall.’

He grinned. ‘They’re not really girlfriends, Ma. Not steady girlfriends at any rate. They’re more ships that pass in the night.’

She gave an exclamation of mock outrage at his flippancy and then said, ‘I really would like it if there was someone a little more permanent in your life, Max. Hugo and Hester are very happy.’