Chapters (42)
- Cover
- Title
- Dedication
- About the Author
- Also by
- Acknowledgements
- Part One
- Chapter One
- Chapter Two
- Part Two
- Chapter Three
- Chapter Four
- Chapter Five
- Chapter Six
- Chapter Seven
- Chapter Eight
- Chapter Nine
- Chapter Ten
- Chapter Eleven
- Chapter Twelve
- Chapter Thirteen
- Chapter Fourteen
- Chapter Fifteen
- Chapter Sixteen
- Chapter Seventeen
- Chapter Eighteen
- Chapter Nineteen
- Chapter Twenty
- Chapter Twenty-one
- Chapter Twenty-two
- Chapter Twenty-three
- Chapter Twenty-four
- Chapter Twenty-five
- Part Three
- Chapter Twenty-six
- Chapter Twenty-seven
- Chapter Twenty-eight
- Chapter Twenty-nine
- Chapter Thirty
- Chapter Thirty-one
- Chapter Thirty-two
- Chapter Thirty-three
He forked left up a mossy path into the wood above the drive. Some of the pointed buds on the branches of the ancient beeches were still only beginning to unfurl and show hints of the brilliant green to come, and those new leaves that were already fully out were crumpled and covered with fine silver down. The path soon petered out but after a steep scramble, which was testing for his leg, he reached a clearing and stopped to sit on the remains of a fallen tree trunk in the early sunshine. Below him, he could see the tip of the flagpole on the tower but the flag, with the Grant coat-of-arms on it, was hanging limp, with no breath of wind to lift it.
He thought what fun it must be to run a joint venture from home as Giles and Isobel did – how satisfying. No doubt there were tensions and difficulties for a married couple in working so closely together, but it seemed to him infinitely more desirable than the frenetic rush in which he and Nicola had led their lives and most of their friends still did. Many couples hardly seemed to have time to enjoy each other’s company any more – even go on holiday together, if their careers clashed – but he didn’t think the Grants’ rural lifestyle was one that Nicola would appreciate. The buzz of the City, the pressure of cutthroat competition, was the breath of life to her and it wasn’t only the resulting prosperity that acted on her like a powerful aphrodisiac – though money was very important – but everything it represented: not just purchasing power but influence; excitement; control; recognition. She had been fond of telling him that it was the thrill of the chase as much as the capture of the quarry that was significant to her in the pursuit of wealth, though Christopher suspected that she wasn’t exactly lacking in blood lust either. And not so long ago, I was every bit as ambitious for the same things myself, he thought. It’s not her fault that I’ve altered. I can’t blame her because I’ve had a change of heart and mind and she hasn’t – and some of the anger against her that had been festering inside him started to drain away.