‘Ask a lawyer, then,’ Lawrence said as he turned away and went back to his desk.

‘You’re sleeping here, aren’t you? There’s no hotel room.’ As Lawrence began fiddling with papers on his desk, Grace asked as calmly as she could, ‘Just how much have we got, Lawrence? What has happened to all those investments and shares and things you showed me?’

‘Grace, stop interfering. You’ve heard about boom and bust cycles? Well, I just have to ride out the next month or so and then we’ll be fine. Trust me. Have I ever not come good? You’ve never bothered about these things before, and I doubt you’d understand them now.’

‘What do you mean, “come good”?’ Grace cried, and she didn’t care who heard her. ‘I never knew you’d gone bad! That was our home. And everything I own was in it! I see you managed to keep some of your things!’ She pointed at the silverware, as a thought struck her. ‘And your damned car!’

‘Grace. Please keep your voice down.’

‘Is that why you’re sleeping in your office? You can’t afford a hotel?’ She started to pace up and down the room. ‘Oh, my God, what has happened to my life?’ She dropped onto the sofa and buried her face in her hands.

‘Don’t be so melodramatic. I know the fire has been a terrible shock. It’s sad and it’s awful, but we just have to get through this.’ Lawrence came over and sat beside her. ‘I promise you, Grace, I’ll come good. I have irons . . .’ He paused, seeming to rethink the metaphor. ‘I have several deals on the go. I’m trying to get together some money to fly to Mumbai to meet with the Tata people. Grace, I’m sorry. But there it is. I need money to make money.’

She was numb. ‘Mumbai? In India?’

This suddenly sounded horribly familiar to Grace. The frequent business trips where he came back elated or concerned. Then in a matter of weeks, after those endless phone calls, meetings, negotiations, a deal came off or an investor came in. She always listened with half an ear when Lawrence expounded on how brilliant he’d been in a board meeting, how he’d pulled it off over a dinner or how his proposal had been ground-breaking.

As far as Grace could tell, Lawrence was skilled at presenting a case and talking it through. Then once he had delivered his pitch, the potential investor rarely hesitated to agree to the deal. At least according to Lawrence. She had watched him spend hours and weeks hunting down information, facts, examples, the whole box and dice to bolster his case, his argument. Few of the investors he targeted, Lawrence claimed, could resist his offers. He was softly spoken, charming, smiled a lot, made a small joke here and there, was conciliatory, interested in their home, family, background.

Overhearing him once, Grace had laughingly told Lawrence later that he was like a magic spider, spinning a web of dreams and riches with a dash of speculative adventure thrown in, carefully sidestepping dull details or practicalities, all to charm, impress and land his target in his web.