He smiled sheepishly. “I must admit, I dragooned you two into choosing this week for the holiday”

Right on cue, Harry arrived. His clothes were usually the stuff of television makeovers, but he was dressed more soberly in a navy suit that was so old the style was coming back. He was wearing a blue and white spotted bow tie, the type my father called a “proper bow tie” and not one of those “modern elasticated contraptions”. Expertly knotted, it said everything about him.

“Ah, you’re here, children,” he said. “Let me get myself a drink.” He caught the waiter’s eye.

I wondered whether I should broach the subject of Bibby and his funding, but this was hardly the time. Better to wait until we were alone.

“Tell me now, Harry, what’s it like being an academic?” said Mike. “Is it really all croquet and cucumber sandwiches?”

“Good Lord, no. But it is wonderful, a life of great variety. There’s teaching, which I love – all those fresh young minds. And then there’s research. I would have to be honest, however, and say it’s research that keeps me in academia.”

“So what’s the attraction?”

Gaucheness

Harry polished his spectacles. “It enables me to travel and meet people, not just academics, but from all walks of life. I’ve met terrorists, and been in a couple of tight spots.

“Occasionally I’m asked to do a spot of research for the police, and sometimes I have to testify in court. And then there are the book deals.”

He tapped the side of his nose. “Unbelievably lucrative.”

Mike laughed. “Haven’t you ever had a proper job?” I closed my eyes, embarrassed at his gaucheness. “Like what, dear boy?” Harry said quietly. “Doing what Maggie does, for example.”

I threw him a look, annoyed he’d dragged me and my job into the conversation.

“Ah, the money.” Harry eyed me appreciatively. “Never understood it. It’s outwith the orbit of an academic, I’m afraid.”

Harry’s views on how the rest of the world made a living were well known to Liz and myself, but he never missed an opportunity to articulate them to others. “If you want to know what God thinks about money, look at the sort of people he’s given it to.”

Mike grinned. “Game, set, and match, Harry.” I glanced at my watch. “Does anyone know where Liz is?”

“She’s in the computer room, talking to the twins,” said Harry. “She said she’d meet us in the restaurant.” “That’s a long time to be on the phone.” “She’s speaking via the computer, my dear. Some whizzo Internet trickery that allows her to see the twins as she speaks.”

“I didn’t know they had computers,” said Mike. “There’s just time to check my email before dinner. See you all later.”

He rose hurriedly and left the room.

I caught Harry’s eye.

“Yes,” he said, smiling, “I suspect the attraction is not the computers, but the lovely Liz.” The smile faded. “But if he breaks her heart, I’ll kill him.”

I put a hand on his arm. “There’s something I need to talk to you about, Harry.” I hesitated. This was going to be difficult. “I’ve been speaking with Marcellus Bibby.”

He looked startled. “Have you indeed?” he said faintly.

“He and Wilson were in Stockholm last week, promoting some new initiative.”

“I know about that.”

“You do?”

“The Bibby Foundation keeps us abreast of new enterprises. They’re good that way. There was a big write-up in the autumn newsletter about this Stockholm event.”

Argument

He smiled sheepishly. “I must admit, I rather dragooned you and Liz into choosing this week for the holiday. You see, I had intended to pop over to Stockholm and arrange a meeting with Wilson Bibby.”

So that was why he’d cancelled Rome. My breath came out in a rush. “A meeting? But why?”

“I need to persuade him to continue funding my research. I thought that a face-to-face, where I could thrall him with the force of my argument, would clinch it.

“I was going to give him a signed copy of my book.” A look of sadness crossed his face. “As you saw at the airport, I rather blew it.

“I was caught on the hop, I simply didn’t expect to see him there.

“But I had to speak to him because I thought it might be my only chance. He could have been jetting off anywhere.”

He patted my hand. “Still, not to worry. I’m sure no irreparable harm was done.”

“Oh Harry,” I moaned, “I don’t know how to tell you this.” He smiled kindly. “Tell me what, my dear.”

I scrolled through the phrases I could use but there was going to be no easy way.

“Wilson is reorganising the Bibby Foundation. He intends to drop some of the things the Foundation supports. Research will be one. He said that – ”

I stopped, seeing the look on Harry’s face. He was leaning forward, staring into my eyes. “He’s cutting support for research? Are you sure that’s what he said? You couldn’t have misunderstood?”

“Marcellus was quite clear.” I clutched his arm, alarmed at his despair.

“But it’s not definite. Wilson still has to get his Board’s approval, and they won’t like it.”

“I’m not surprised. There are leading academics on the governing body, many of whom I know personally. But I wonder why I haven’t heard about this. There was nothing in the newsletter.”

“I had the impression Wilson’s told no one yet. Marcellus said that, if it happens, it won’t be until next year.

“It isn’t the end of the world, Harry. It leaves you time to find another source of funding.”

Control

He was struggling to keep himself under control. “I very much doubt it. I try every year, and the Bibby Foundation is the only organisation that gives me a grant.”

“What about applying for government funding? I would have thought, with all the terrorism.”

“I’ve tried that avenue, but there’s simply too much competition. No, there’s no point applying elsewhere. I’ll have to start a completely new line of research, which won’t be easy at my age. And, whatever my colleagues say, I’m not ready for a pipe-and-slippers life just yet,” he added defiantly.

“Oh no, Harry,” I murmured.

He dropped his head. “I must admit this is a bodyblow I hadn’t expected.”

I squeezed his hand, anguished, unable to think of anything to say.

He sat slumped, face slack, mouth half open, probably wondering which sleight of hand could make all this disappear like one of his carnations.

“Come on, Harry.” I guided him gently to his feet. “Time for dinner.”

More tomorrow.

Icehotel, available on Amazon Kindle, is Hania Allen’s debut novel. Her second book, The Polish Detective (Constable, £8.99), is the first in her new series featuring DS Dania Gorska and is set in Dundee.