The presentation, Tara had to concede, had been impressive but completely focused on what the community needed to start living again. Living, and growing again, stronger than before.

‘As you’ll see in the notes, we’ve considered green options to reduce running costs …’ At Keith’s nod, Conrad passed out glossy pamphlets. ‘And Alice is liaising with our office about additional grant applications to supplement current budget projections.’

‘I can’t believe you’ve turned these plans around so quickly,’ marvelled Catherine. ‘I haven’t even had a call back from my builder about our blocked drains yet.’

Everyone was gazing at the outline plans on the board with tremendous interest, but only Tara was aware of one tiny, important detail. Dad had done these himself, not farmed them out to some in-house team. The explanatory pencil notes on the drawings were in his distinctive handwriting: neat and crisp, halfway between printing and joined-up. She’d loved it as a child because it didn’t look like ‘adult’ handwriting. He wrote his As in the typewriter style and his Ds were like musical notes. Every written comment was perfectly sized and spaced, the faint, sharp pencil lines pinning an imaginary construction halfway to reality on the paper.

Keith caught her eye. He knows I know he drew this up himself, she thought.

He raised an eyebrow, and she nodded, very slightly.

‘So – when can we start?’ Rob asked.

‘Repair work’s already underway – it’s like for like, so that’s within guidelines. As for the work covered by planning permissions …’ Keith deferred to Peter from the planning department. ‘It depends on what we find, and what magic my friend here can work.’

‘Peter?’

‘I’ll see what I can do,’ said Peter grudgingly. But even Tara could tell he was going to make it happen.

The meeting dissolved into smaller groups, with people lining up to ask Keith about various elements of the proposal. Tara watched out of the corner of her eye, while half involved in a discussion about a fundraiser for new stage equipment.

Keith was in his element. A little sharper than everyone else, a little more definite. He had a distinguished look with the silver hair, she decided. New Dad was overwriting Memory Dad in Tara’s mind.

‘Plans look incredible!’ she said, when he finally made his way over.

‘Don’t they!’ Keith beamed. ‘I think this is going to be one of my favourite projects.’

‘Good!’

‘While it’s in my mind, Tara – Erin’s reminded me that I need to give my expenses receipts to whoever’s in charge of finances. Who would that be?’ His eyes twinkled. ‘I’m under strict instructions not to let them mount up like I normally do. Erin rightly pointed out that my usual trick of dumping eighteen months’ worth in one go mightn’t go down very well.’

‘Your expenses,’ repeated Tara. ‘Um, did you actually clear what they were going to cover?’