But Greg didn't seem unduly bothered, which gave her a certain degree of confidence. The guilt that this might have been all her fault was dissipating. What more had she been expecting from him?

He rose from the black-polished bench. "Couple of days, week at the most, and it'll all be over, no messing. You can look back and laugh."

"Thank you, Greg."

"You haven't seen the bill yet. Walk me to the car? I might get lost otherwise; normally when I'm in buildings this size there are hordes of other people queuing to catch their trains."

She laughed. A joke. He was joking with her. Then her father came into the hall, and the sudden bud of joy was crushed as though it'd never been.

Dillan Evans was wearing jeans and a baggy brown sweater which was fraying at the end of the sleeves. He was walking with a drunkard's hesitancy, taking care that his feet only trod on the black tiles.

"Hello, Daddy," Julia said quietly.

He nodded absently at her, and looked Greg up and down with bleary eyes.

Julia felt like weeping. It was bad enough witnessing her father's state in private, having it exposed like this only exacerbated the pain.

She watched in dismay as he straightened up ponderously. "Bit old for her, aren't you?" he said to Greg.

"Daddy, don't, please," her voice had become high, strained. She caught Greg's eye, a tiny motion of her head telling him to say nothing. Please. He inclined his head discreetly, thank God.

Dillan grunted roughly. "Out of the way, don't embarrass us, keep out of sight, keep your mouth shut, never know what might come out. Want me to shut up, Julie? Is that it? Want your father to keep his dirty mouth closed. Afraid of what the old fool will say? I'm only looking after your welfare. I've got a right to meet my little girl's men friends."

"Greg is not a boyfriend, Daddy. He's someone who works for us."

"Work, eh?" A crafty expression twisted his vacant face. "Been up to see the old bastard, have you?"

"What?" Julia blurted, alarmed.

"The old bastard. Up there in the study."

"Grandpa's dead, Daddy. You watched the funeral on the channel," she enunciated with slow deliberation, as though she was explaining a particularly difficult fact to a small child.