Her last call was a mile from the farmhouse and it was ten to one. For once, she had time for lunch.

The warmth and the rich smell of cooking came as she opened the front door.

‘Sam?’

‘Hi. This isn’t for now, it’s for dinner, but if you sit down I’ll make you a salad when I’ve got this in. Should I start it in the top oven?’

‘Till the liquid is bubbling, then down. What’s brought this on?’

‘I’m a fantastic son and so domesticated.’

‘Hm. But thanks, whatever. I’ll look forward to not cooking supper.’

‘I’ve made a lot, plenty for the freezer, and I thought I’d take some to Rosie later, don’t want her living off crisps and frozen pizza.’

Cat hesitated, but then said only, ‘She’s got too much sense.’

She got plates, salad and cheese out of the fridge, switched on the kettle, still carefully working out what to say, until her phone buzzed.

Mrs Ellen Boyden, 30 Grove Lane, Starly. Cough, sinus pain, after heavy cold.

‘You’re having lunch first, Mum.’

‘I am, this one’s all right for an hour. I take it you used all the stewing beef?’

‘And what was in the freezer.’

‘Heavens.’

‘Carrots, mushrooms, red wine, stock –’

‘Which red wine?’

Sam looked vague and shushed her out of his way.

‘You sure Rosie will be at home? Wouldn’t want you to have a wasted journey.’

‘She’s revising and she doesn’t do libraries. She’ll be there.’

‘Maybe ring her first to check though?’

Sam closed the over door. ‘Now, sit down and have lunch. '

‘Just that . . .’

‘What?’

He turned to look at her and she recognised her son’s ‘challenge me’ expression.

‘Just that I’ll have to leave at two.’

‘Right. Have we got any of those tinfoil containers?’

‘No, take it in a lidded dish, in a box. Will she be OK about you taking her food? Might it not look a bit . . .’

‘What?’

‘Nothing.’

When they were eating, he said, ‘I’ve applied for my old portering job back.’

‘OK. Good idea to put fennel in this. I can never slice it thinly enough.’

‘Sharpen the knife and do it slowly. You’re all right with it then?’

‘Sure. You haven’t decided what else you might want to do, you enjoyed portering, it’s a wage. Only thing is, the car . . .’

‘Yes. Yes, right. I was going to mention that. If I’m living here it does mean I need wheels, and I’m selling the motorbike, one thing too many has gone wrong. Think I bought a pup.’

‘Why don’t you wait and see what happens?’

‘What’s that supposed to mean?’

‘Don’t jump down my throat. You mightn’t get the job.’

He gave her a look.

‘Yes, all right, stupid thing to say.’