‘About Harry.’ She went on to outline Jordy’s concerns for Harry’s future.

Aaron was pleasantly surprised. ‘I thought he might have seen a YouTube video of Harry and Rory “surfing” in the back of a moving truck. Not my truck!’ he added hastily. ‘I hope Jordy isn’t trying to browbeat Harry. Harry, for all his clowning around, hasn’t found a way to stand up to his dad yet. Anabelle finds it hard too.’

‘Jordy is a bit … assertive,’ Clancy owned.

At Burnham Norton, Aaron slowed to turn left onto a back road that became ever narrower, the hedges wilder, then he turned left and halted in front a set of black electronic gates. He punched in the entry number and when the gates had shuddered aside he drove on up the drive of Keelmarsh House, wild white roses punctuating the yellow genistra on either side between great rocks of red chalkstone.

Clancy clasped her hands. ‘Wow. This is like a grotto. I’m expecting to see elves.’

He laughed, keeping the truck to twenty miles per hour as the notice by the gate requested. ‘Keep your eyes peeled but all I’ve seen here are deer. One of the builders working here says there are boar in the woods.’

She gave a tiny shudder. ‘They can stay there.’

It took several minutes to traverse the green mile of drive. The knot garden being not far from the front of the hall, Aaron drove right up to the house, where the drive became a perfect gravel circle.

They got out of the truck with Nelson on the lead, poop bags in the attached pouch because canine calling cards on the lawns would not go down well with the permanent garden staff. However, apart from cocking his leg up the truck wheel as soon as he jumped out, Nelson behaved impeccably, trotting majestically at Aaron’s side with his ears up and his gaze roving the landscape as if he’d heard the talk of deer and boar and fancied a snack.

Clancy gazed at the imposing brown stone house, drinking in the castle-like crenellations and the green Virginia creeper making its way around the massive bay windows.

‘It’s built of carrstone,’ Aaron told her, following her example and gazing up. ‘Our local building materials are carrstone, white and red chalk and a bit of flint. I’d suggest the owners took the creeper down if they asked me, because it can damage the masonry. But they haven’t asked me.’

‘Tell me the owners are successful actors or musicians who come here to create their masterpieces!’ She backed up a few steps, craning to take in the turret with gothic arched windows that looked to have come straight out of a fairy tale.

He grinned. ‘Sorry to disappoint. He had an advertising agency in London and she was a merchant banker when you could make real dosh at it. I think they’ve gone off for the summer exhausted from keeping track of all their bank accounts.’