‘She pretended to be Henry’s assistant. Chucked a load of legal jargon around and bamboozled Margaret into giving way.’ Owen’s face lit up. ‘It was amazing. She demanded unrestricted access to Emi and said there was a court order on its way. She was very convincing.’

‘That’s what comes of living with a high court judge for fifteen years.’

‘I thought Henry was a barrister?’

‘He was, but he became a judge not long after we graduated. I could have sworn I told you.’

‘You probably did.’ Owen shrugged.

‘He was always asking after you – I suppose that was Mum’s doing.’

‘Was he?’

‘Yeah, but how did Mum leave it with Margaret?’

‘She finished the call, restating that thing about a court order.’

‘That was it? And Margaret, let you see Emi?’

‘Yes. I left it thirty minutes on your mum’s advice, then called Margaret myself. She wasn’t happy, but she agreed to the meeting. Then that evening, I had an email from Henry. Sally had spoken to him, and he recommended me to a specialist family lawyer. Martin Frazer. I’m seeing him tomorrow. Which reminds me, do you have a problem with me going absent tomorrow for a few hours?’

‘No, of course not. You need to get things sorted, finally.’ Frowning again, George refocused on Owen. ‘So, you haven’t fallen off the wagon?’

‘No. I told you already, I’m not an alcoholic.’

Before George could argue, Kate pushed open the door. ‘Coffee?’

‘Yes, yes. Thanks, Kate.’ George waved at his desk, and Kate went into her routine of clearing a space for the tray.

‘I’ve sent the financial report to the Blanchards,’ she said, glancing up at George. ‘And I’ve booked the tickets to Thailand via Hong Kong. Business Class on the long haul.’

‘Good.’ George’s eyes lingered on her, hoping she could see he was sorry for losing his temper earlier, only vaguely registering she’d said Business Class. ‘Thanks, Kate.’ They exchanged smiles.

‘So, Owen, I’d better bring you up to speed,’ George said, and as Kate left them, he handed a mug of coffee to Owen. ‘After you left on Friday, I had to get rid of Xander.’

‘Why?’

‘Gross misconduct, and it couldn’t have been grosser.’

Owen took a thoughtful sip of coffee. ‘Does that mean I’m doing the Paradise assignment alone?’

‘No, no. We’ve got to have images of Paradise, so the readers can see what’s at risk. I’ve agreed with Xander. He’s working his notice on the assignment.’

‘Right.’ Owen took another slug of coffee.

‘The plan is to get you another photographer for the work before the assignment. Xander can do his personal stuff. Arrogant sod said he had more than enough work to keep him busy.’ George fumed at the memory before he went on. ‘Anyway, it’ll keep him out of the way and give Kate time to recover. Then he’ll do one last job with you.’ George’s lip curled. ‘And I want you to teach the bastard a few lessons. Don’t take care of him while you’re out there. Do you understand me? Make him fend for himself. Lose the insect repellent, send him into a snake-infested jungle or mangroves with man-eating crocs, if there are any. Peg him out in the noonday sun for ants to eat. I want him to suffer.’

‘Right.’ Owen’s face was impassive.

‘If I thought we’d get away with it, I’d suggest you push him off a cliff, but I guess that would be too extreme.’

Owen stared at him and said, deadpan. ‘I guess it would be.’

Not sure if Owen was taking him seriously, George changed the subject. He picked up a sheet of paper and offered it to Owen. ‘Here, this is the work I want you to do before Paradise.’

Putting the empty mug down, Owen scanned a long list of topics. Suddenly his impassive expression disappeared, and he leapt from the chair. ‘You’ve got to be joking. I’m not doing that.’

‘Which one?’ George asked, surprised, if not relieved, that Owen had taken so long to find something offensive.