‘It’s true,’ Ellis chipped in, ‘and then we spotted Gypsy,’ he gave the cat a farewell stroke before handing her over, ‘with her little paw caught in a rut in the path – she’s fine,’ he hastily added, on seeing the woman’s face crease in concern. ‘But I thought it best to hop over the gate and help her, just in case,’ he finished, not daring to meet Grace’s gaze as she lifted her eyebrows in shock at his blatant untruth.

‘Then, we must thank you for helping,’ the man stepped forward and put out his hand, which Ellis shook politely. ‘My wife adores Gypsy and when we saw you on the security camera with her in your arms … well, you can imagine how it looked.’

‘Yes, I can. I’m so sorry,’ Ellis said, having got himself back over the gate and onto the path in record time.

‘I thought you were trying to steal her,’ the woman called Georgie grinned, and then quickly followed with, ‘sorry if I got a bit carried away with telling you about my previous encounters and all that. Anyway …’ she turned to Grace, ‘tell me more about your friend, what’s her name? We might be able to help you out.’

‘Oh, that would be great,’ Grace said, surreptitiously wiping the sweat from her top lip.

‘But it must have been a long time ago that your friend lived in the pink villa because my grandmother bought it back in the Nineties, more than twenty years ago,’ Tom said.

‘Ah,’ Grace started, taking in this new information and wondering if it was then that Connie had returned to London to live in the flat in Blackheath. And if so, why? It must have been around the time when Giovanni died, but why didn’t she stay here in their beautiful home with such a glorious view?

‘Her name was Connie, or Constance di Donato. She lived here with her husband, Giovanni – he was an artist, and a recluse – he died over twenty years ago, we’ve been told,’ Grace explained to them, rummaging in her handbag for the paper fan that she had bought last night from a little shop near the promenade.

‘And we’ve since found out that he’s an eminent artist. You see, I work for Sackville and Bush auctioneers in New York and we’ve auctioned some of his work,’ Ellis said, ‘and Grace.’ He paused. ‘Sorry, we didn’t introduce ourselves properly, I’m Ellis and this is Grace …’ He gestured to her. Tom and Georgie quickly shook hands with her and confirmed their names before Grace took over and explained more about Connie, and that they were trying to track down a living relative to inherit her estate and the contents of the wonderfully presented storage unit.