Mercifully, Tiger’s stroke had not been as severe as they first thought. His recovery was steady, and if no great strides were made each day then he was still moving forward slowly. He could walk quite well now thanks to the ongoing physiotherapy. His face was still a little numb and his speech still not clear. But the feeling was coming back into his arm.

Erica put an armchair by the window so that he could sit and watch what was going on in the cathedral close.

‘I’m not a bloody invalid,’ he insisted.

‘No. Just a pain in the neck,’ Erica had remarked. ‘Here you are. A cup of coffee. And try not to dribble.’

He gave her a withering glance and muttered, ‘I don’t know why they couldn’t send me home with one of those nice nurses. Could you send out for one? Or an au pair?’

Erica shot him a glance. ‘You’re improving.’

Tiger took a sip of coffee and grinned. ‘Daren’t do otherwise. Not with you on my back.’

She came and crouched by his chair. ‘Are you going to be nice to me or just plain horrible?’

He lifted his hand up and stroked her cheek. ‘Sorry, love. Just a bit knocked, that’s all. Want to get back to normal. Hate being like this.’

‘You will. But you’ll need rest as well as exercise.’ She stood up and walked across the room. ‘By the way,’ she asked, ‘what happened to the girl who was with you? Sam, wasn’t it? She didn’t come to visit you in hospital, did she? Only I wanted to say thank you.’

Gary was standing by the office window dressed in his suit. His nervousness manifested itself in its usual way–he was drumming his fingers on the windowsill.

‘I wonder if you ought to take a mac?’

‘What?’

Sarah examined the sky. ‘It looks a bit grey. I wonder if you should take a mac?’

Gary sighed heavily. ‘I’m on my way to meet a man who’d probably bump me off as soon as look at me and all you can worry about is whether I should take a raincoat?’

‘Well, we don’t want you going down with flu like Ben Atkinson. If we lose two of you then we really are up shit creek.’

Gary smiled sarcastically. ‘Don’t worry. I’ll take my paddle. Talking of which, has the money come?’

‘It’s on its way.’

‘How much?’

‘Fifty grand.’

‘Oh, that’ll do nicely.’

Sarah went and sat down at her desk. ‘That’s about a month’s salary for you isn’t it?’

‘I wish. Mind you, it would be worth running away with you now, wouldn’t it? Come on. Never mind the operation, let’s just sneak off to the Caribbean and lie on some sun-soaked beach.’

‘No,’ she said. ‘I can’t really do that.’

‘Why not?’