Page 2 of The Sex War

'My brother seems to have done a bunk.' Lindsay was briskly pushing the flowers into the vase, her eyes oh their colour, her nostrils assailed by their muted scent. 'There, how do they look?' she asked, turning back to Aston.

'Nice,' he said. 'What do you mean, he's done a bunk? Left his wife?'

'I'm not sure what he's done, Alice wasn't very coherent on the phone. I'm sorry about the theatre tickets, Aston, maybe you could find someone to go with you? A pity to waste them.'

'That doesn't matter,' he said, shrugging the suggestion aside. He was a man who talked with his body, his broad shoulders and hands in movement when he spoke, like an Italian. 'Where does your brother live? I'll drive you over there.'

'That's very kind—are you sure?'

'Get your jacket and we'll be on our way,' he said, grinning at her. Lindsay smiled back wryly; it was typical of Aston to take charge of whatever was happening. He was an organiser to his fingertips, he ran his life the way he ran his firm; with humour and determination and unstoppable energy which did not make him disliked by his employees. He had several shops in London, selling electrical goods. Lindsay had met him through her brother, who manufactured electrical components. Stephen had made friends with Aston at an international trade fair in Germany two years ago. They did not deal directly with each other on a business level, they were merely drinking companions on occasion.

His car was parked outside the fiats, a sleek Ferrari with, an engine that purred like a cat and could eat up the miles without really trying. Aston liked fast cars and good clothes and, not being married, could afford them. He slid Lindsay into the passenger seat, closed the door on her and walked round to get behind the wheel.

As he drove off with a roar, he asked quietly:

'Stephen in some sort of trouble? Or is it a private matter?'

'I told you, I have no idea at the moment what's wrong. I suspect he and Alice have had a row, but she wasn't saying on the phone, I can't think of any other reason why he should go walk-about.' She looked sharply at Aston, her dark brows lifting. 'Unless you know different? Have you heard something? His factory isn't in trouble, is it?'

'We're all in deep waters these days.' Aston wasn't looking at her and his face was not giving anything away, he watched the road as though afraid to take his eyes off it. 'There's a recession, in case you hadn't heard.'

'Stephen's been hit by the recession? He hasn't said anything. At least, not to me he hasn't.'

'Would he?' Aston put the question very gently and she sighed.

'I suppose not, he does tend to hug his problems to himself. Stephen never forgets that he's my big brother.'

'He's about five years older than you, isn't he?' Aston asked, tongue in cheek.

'Seven, do you mind?' She laughed and Aston turned his head to smile at her, eyes teasing.

'Which makes you…?'

'Twenty-five.' Her glance mocked him. 'I've packed a lot into my life, if you're wondering how I got so wise at my age.'

'I wasn't actually. I was thinking that Stephen looked much older than thirty-two. I'd got him down as nearer forty.' He put on speed, frowning again. 'His face is quite lined. How long has he been running the factory?'

'Since my father died. Stephen was nineteen, then, and the factory only employed three or four men. Stephen began to expand about five years ago. Now he employs around forty.' Lindsay was very proud of her brother's business achievements. She had only been twelve when her father died, and within three years her mother had been dead, too; of pneumonia caught because she neglected a bad cold. Mrs Grainger had stopped caring about her health after her husband's early death. His heart attack had been a bitter shock to her from which she never recovered. Left alone to carry the family, Stephen had taken over at home as well as in the business. Stephen hadn't married until after Lindsay left home, and brother and sister had been very close. Their relationship might appear outwardly offhand and casual, but although they were neither of them openly affectionate they cared very much what happened to each other.

'Five years?' Aston repeated. 'I suppose that was around the time…'

'I got married,' she agreed flatly.

'Did Randall take an interest in your brother's firm?' Aston sounded very casual, but she felt him watching her out of the corner of his eye.

'Financially, you mean? I don't think so. It has always been a family firm, Stephen wouldn't have wanted to part with any shares, even to Daniel.' Lindsay laughed shortly, her face derisive. 'Not that Daniel Randall would have been interested in a firm as small as Graingers—quite out of his league, they have to be pretty big fish for him to start angling for them.'

'I'd have thought that as Stephen is your brother—' Aston began, and she cut him short, shaking her head.

'I can tell you don't know Daniel. He'd be the first to tell you that sentiment has no place in business.' She paused. 'And how!' she added with emphasis.

'I've heard that he's ruthless.'

'Who told you that? It must have been a friend of his—it's far too generous. Daniel Randall is red in tooth and claw. He doesn't merge with other firms, he devours them and spits out the pieces, and he doesn't care who gets hurt in the process. I'm grateful for the fact that Graingers didn't arouse his attention, it was just as well for Stephen. Heaven knows what would have happened after I divorced Daniel Randall if he had had any

hold over the firm.'

'You don't like your ex-husband much, do you?' Aston asked wryly, half smiling as he drew into the kerb outside the modern white house where Stephen and Alice lived.

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