Once again, her expression demonstrated only too well her reaction to the remark. “Not only is my job extremely important to the whole family, Dan, but it also happens to be quite full-on right now.”

Dan held up a hand in silent apology. He didn’t want her to say any more, having just heard the front door of the adjoining house slam shut. There was no love lost between himself and Mrs. Watt. She was their busybody of a neighbour, and Dan, on more than one occasion, had expressed those exact sentiments to her face. Nothing would give Mrs. Watt more pleasure than to listen in on one of their marital disagreements, even though, over the past few months, she would have every reason to have become bored with their regularity. Her front gate clicked open and Dan watched as Jackie turned to smile a good morning to her. Mrs. Watt appeared from behind the overgrown yew hedge that surrounded their property, and as she passed by Jackie, she slowed down long enough to shoot Dan a tight-mouthed glare of disapproval. He returned the disparaging greeting by thrusting forward his hands in the pockets of his shorts, giving the impression that he was more than a little excited to see her.

“Good morning, Mrs. Watt,” he called out in an airy voice.

The woman quickly averted her eyes and, with a loud sucking of teeth, walked quickly on.

Jackie shook her head. “For goodness’ sakes, Dan. When will you ever start to take things seriously?” She turned on her heel and disappeared from view behind the yew hedge.

Dan stood for a moment peering up into the cloudless sky as a Boeing 747 roared low overhead on its final approach to Heathrow Airport. He watched it disappear over the roofline of the houses opposite, then walked to the gate and peered over. He was in time to see Jackie’s neat figure cross the street and head off down the low-stone-walled alleyway that led to South Clapham tube station. He thought about calling out something like “Have a good day, my sweet!” but knew that she was in no mood for any of his lighthearted banter that morning, so he turned and went back into the house.

As soon as he opened the door into the kitchen, he could tell that one of their recent fosterlings from the Battersea Dogs’ Home had done it again. What’s more, it took no great powers of detection to work out who the culprit might be. Biggles, the cross collie/spaniel, lay cowering in his basket, whilst his smaller companion, Cruise, made a solid show of proclaiming his innocence by dancing energetically around Dan’s feet.

“Bloody hell, Biggles!” Dan exclaimed, pinching his nostrils. “Not again!”