He selected a newspaper and took a seat a few rows ahead with his back to her. She could see that he read differently from the other men. He turned to the news first, and he had a little book beside him in which he wrote notes. After fifteen minutes or so he went back to the long rods which held the newspapers and exchanged The Scotsman for another broadsheet, then sat down again and worked his way through the news, taking his time and pausing to look off into the distance every so often before returning to the page and writing in his book. Ann wriggled. She needed to go to the lavatory, but the facilities were near the entrance and she would have to walk past him to get to them. Just as she thought that she couldn’t wait any longer, he got to his feet and put the final newspaper back in the rack and started looking at the shelves. Non-fiction, she observed.

She seized her chance and headed for the WC. When she looked back before closing the door, he was at the table again, and engrossed in his reading. She didn’t like the feeling this gave her.

*

The storm door at the front of the house hadn’t yet been closed for the day when Ann walked into the hall. ‘Hello!’ she called.

There was no response. She hung her coat up and lifted the latest Lord Peter Wimsey novel from her basket. Between the hours she had spent at the library in the morning and the time in the café in the afternoon, she was halfway through it. She wore her stubbornness as though it were a lead dress.

‘Did he come, then?’ she said as she walked into the kitchen.

Isobel and Keith were sitting opposite each other at the table. A jigsaw was spread out in the space between them; the edges were complete, and some of the foreground. They both looked up at the same time.

‘I didn’t hear you come in,’ said Isobel.

He stood up. More evidence of his good manners, thought Ann.

‘Good evening. I’m afraid I’m taking advantage of your friend’s hospitality. We started this and it’s rather addictive. Just one more piece, you know?’

‘A bit like knitting a sock,’ said Isobel. ‘One more row. And then another one.’

Ann felt like an intruder in her own house as the two of them laughed, sharing the moment. ‘Did he come, then?’ she repeated. ‘The plumber about the problem with the hot water?’ She threw the conversational curve ball to Isobel, who caught it, considered dropping it, and then decided to throw it back.

‘No, not today. Are you sure it was this morning he was supposed to come?’

‘That was what he promised. Perhaps the spare parts haven’t arrived or something.’ She paused. ‘I do agree about jigsaws, Mr Anderson, they are very addictive.’