Shifting Sands by Anthea Fraser Page A

people have died.’ He frowned. ‘What the hell did she mean by that?’
    â€˜God knows. Industrial espionage?’
    Jonathan gave a snort. ‘She’s hardly the type.’
    â€˜Well, you’ve met her and I haven’t. But what else could it be?’
    Jonathan shrugged, staring down at his mobile.
    â€˜You could ring her back on that number,’ Steve suggested.
    Jonathan considered for a moment. ‘Suppose it got her into trouble? She didn’t seem free to talk.’
    â€˜You see!’ Steve said triumphantly. ‘You’re beginning to wonder, aren’t you?’
    â€˜Let’s say I’m not prepared to risk it.’
    â€˜In which case, we’re back to square one, having to wait till she contacts you.’
    â€˜Or writing it all off as a lesson in being gullible.’
    Their bill was placed on the table, and Jonathan took out his wallet. ‘Thanks for coming with me. At least you can see what I’m up against.’
    â€˜A handful of smoke,’ Steve declaimed whimsically, ‘that dissolves in the air when you try to grasp it.’
    â€˜And a colleague who’s finally lost his marbles,’ Jonathan retorted, pushing back his chair.
    Sophie sat in the studio, the latest brochure on the desk in front of her. The immediate rush was over, orders had been despatched, and they could now sit back and await the next batch. In the meantime, she saw from her desk diary that it would soon be her nephews’ birthday. Tom and Tim had been born on the same date two years apart, so shared a joint party. She lifted the phone and called her sister-in-law.
    After they’d exchanged greetings, she said, ‘I’m in search of suggestions for birthday presents.’
    â€˜Well, they’ve both made lists,’ Vicky replied, ‘but that’s little help, since they range from a puppy – which is not on the cards at the moment – to vastly expensive toys seen on TV, which they’d doubtless tire of within a week.’
    â€˜Then I’ll have to use my ingenuity, but as you know, I don’t do boys. Will there be the usual joint party?’
    â€˜Yes, but it’ll probably be the last. So far, they’ve been happy with friends for tea and a conjuror or entertainer of some kind. But next year Tom will be seven, and among his friends, tenpin bowling or the cinema are already taking over. I’m pretty sure he’ll be wanting something similar, which might not appeal to Tim.’
    â€˜Better make the most of it this year, then!’
    â€˜Oh, and as Anna only arrives home on Sunday, we’ll be holding it the following weekend, so she can be there. You’re invited, of course, if you can bear it.’
    Sophie hesitated. ‘And . . . Jonathan?’
    There was a pause. Then Vicky said, ‘Haven’t you spoken to him this week?’
    â€˜No?’
    â€˜Well, we reached a sort of truce at the weekend. He came for supper on Saturday.’
    â€˜Oh, Vicky, I am glad! He’s been so miserable.’
    â€˜So have I, heaven knows. But he really wants to try again, so we’re going for it. He’ll come home for good the weekend of the party – and what’s more, he’s promised to help with it, which will be a first.’
    â€˜Excellent!’
    â€˜I was to blame too,’ Vicky put in quickly. ‘It’ll require an effort from both of us, but I’m sure our marriage will be the stronger for it.’
    As the call ended, Sophie sat back with a sigh of relief. By the sound of it, she could stop worrying about Jonathan – which just left Imogen.
    She did so wish her friend would pull herself together. Though she’d been happy to support her during their schooldays, she’d assumed her task was finished once Imogen married. Now, though, with her marriage under strain, Imogen had turned back to her, putting her in an invidious position.
    It was