Robin Harvey’s hands traced an intrigued line down the side of her ribcage before coming to rest lightly on her hips. ‘Try and hold your back straighter as your fingers touch the water,’ he instructed. ‘And stand so that you’re balancing more off your heels.’ ‘Like this?’ Julia leant back into him. Right out on the threshold of sensitivity she could detect a minute tremor in his fingertips. ‘Not quite that much.’ He let go abruptly. Julia dived into the water, breaking the surface cleanly. Her pool was a large oval affair at the rear of the house, equipped with high boards and a convoluted slide. There was a plentiful supply of colourful beach balls and lios, a wave machine. The surrounding patio had a bar and barbecue area. It was all designed with fun in mind. 276 PETER F. HAMILTON She surfaced and pushed her hair back. Robin Harvey smiled down at her. She had noticed him on Wednesday in the England swimrning squad line-up, a strong broad face, wiry blond hair, on edge at the prospect of meeting her. His powerful build, youthfulness – he was eighteen, a year younger than her – and that touch of awkward modesty made for an engaging combination. He was so much more natural than Patrick. She had made a point of chatting to him during the training session. His stroke was the butterfly, and he enjoyed diving, though he claimed he wasn’t up to a professional standard. ‘Oh, gosh, I’ve always wanted to do that,’ she said guileLessly. ‘It looks so thrilling on the sportscasts, like ballet in the air. I don’t suppose you could teach me some of the easier ones, could you?’ She let a tone of hopefulness creep into her voice at the end. The lonely precious princess not allowed a moment’s enjoyment. Thrning down such a plaintive request from the team’s sponsor wasn’t a serious option. ‘That was very good,’ Robin said as she climbed up the stairs. ‘You’re a fast learner.’ I was the Berne under-fifteen schools amateur diving champion. ‘That’s because I have such a good teacher.’ His grin was a genuine one. Julia liked it. She was going to enjoy Robin, she decided. At least with swimmers she had the perfect excuse to get ninety per cent of their clothes off right away. That remaining ten per cent ought to provide her with a great deal of fun. She skipped off the top step and breathed in deeply. Robin’s gaze slithered helplessly down to the swell of her breasts under the slippery-wet scarlet fabric of her backless one-piece costume. Bikinis always gave too much away, she thought; the male imagination was such a powerful weapon, you just had to know how to turn it against its owner. ‘I’d like to try a back ffip,’ she said. ‘Uh, sure.’ * A QUANTUM MURDER 277 After they finished swimming, she showed him round the big conservatory that jutted out from the end of Wilholm’s east wing. The glass annexe had undergone a complete role reversal from its original function. Tinted glass now turned away a lot of the harsh sun’s power, conditioner units whirred constantly, maintaining the air at a cool two degrees celsius. The team contracted to renovate the manor had sunk thermal shields into the earth around the outside, preventing any inward heat seepage. It was a segment cut out of time, immune to the warm years flowing past on the other side of the condensation-lined glass, home to a few rare examples of England’s aboriginal foliage. She led him along a flagstone path between two borders. Young deciduous trees grew out of the rich black soil on either side, their highest branches scratching the sloping glass roof. Streaky traces of hoar frost lingered around their roots. Both of them were in thick polo neck sweaters, although Julia still felt the cold pinching her fingers. She rubbed her arms, shaping her mouth into an 0 and blowing steadily. Her breath formed a thin white ribbon in the air. Robin stared at it, fascinated. Then he started blowing. ‘Polar bear breath,’ she said, and smiled at him. He looked gorgeous with his face all lit up in delight. ‘I’ve never seen that before,’ he said. ‘You must remember some winters, surely?’ ‘No. They finished a couple of years before I was born. My parents told me about them, though. How about you?’ ‘I grew up in Arizona. But I saw some snow when I was at school in Switzerland. We took a bus trip up into the Alps one day.’ ‘Lumps of ice falling out of the sky.’ He shook his head in bemusement. ‘Weird.’ ‘It’s not solid, and it’s fun to play in.’ ‘I’ll take your word for it.’ He tapped one of the trees. ‘What’s this one?’ ‘A laburnum. It has a lovely yellow flower at the start of summer, they hang in cascades. The seeds are poisonous, though.’ PETER F. HAMILTON 278 ‘Why do you keep this place going? It must cost a fortune.’ ‘I can’t get into fine art; it always seems ridiculous paying so much money for a square metre of turgid canvas. And of course that whole scene is riddled with the most pretentious oafs on the planet. I’ll take my beauty neat, thank you.’ She pointed at a clump of snowdrops which were pushing up around a cherry tree. ‘What artist could ever come close to that?’ The conservatory always affected her this way, inducing a bout of melancholia. It was the timelessness of the trees, especially the oaks and ash, they were all so much more stately than the current usurpers. They made her cares seem lighter, somehow. She was afraid she might be showing too much of her real self to Robin. He was gazing at her again, quite unabashed this rime, thick hair almost occluding his eyes. ‘You’re nothing. . .’ His arms jerked out from his sides, inarticulate bafflement. ‘You’re not what I expected, Julia.’ ‘What did you expect?’ she teased. ‘I dunno. You come over all mechanical on the ‘casts, like everything you do is choreographed by experts, every move, every word. Absolute perfection.’ Whereas in the flesh I’m a sadly blemished disappointment.’ ‘No!’ He bent down and picked one of the snowdrops. ‘You should get rid of your PR team,’ let everyone see you as you are, without pretending. Show people how much you care about the small things in life. That’d stop all those critics dead in their tracks.’ He broke off and gave the flower a doleful look. ‘I don’t suppose it’ll happen like that.’ “Fraid not. Nothing is ever that easy.’ He tucked the snowdrop behind her ear, looking pleased with himself. When she kissed him he was eager enough, but he didn’t seem to know what was expected. Her mouth was open to him for a long time before his tongue ventured in. She was struck with the thrilling thought that he’d never had a girl before. After all, it took a lot of training and A QUANTUM MURDER 279 devotion to reach his level of performance, a dedication which cost him every spare minute. Her arms stayed round him as he gave her a delighted boyish grin. He had exactly seven days left to court her, then she’d have him. And this time she would be in charge in bed, so it would be a considerable improvement on the way it was with Patrick. They rubbed noses Maori-style, then kissed again. This time he wasn’t nearly so reticent. The conservatory door was opened with a suspiciously loud rattle. ‘Julia?’ Caroline Rothman called. Robin disentangled himself, looking extraordinarily guilty as Caroline walked round the end of the border. ‘Sorry, Julia,’ Caroline said. ‘Phone call.’ She wanted to stomp her foot in frustration. ‘Who?’ Whoever, they were already dead. ‘Greg. He said it was urgent.’