As she found hangers and hung up the many clothes which lay draped about her bedroom, she wondered how much she’d get if she sold everything. Not a lot. Most of her clothes were comfortable, informal and old. Her few smart things she’d given away to her London friends before she’d left, eager to get rid of memories of a life she’d rejected.

Molly would probably have the odd ten thousand lying around for emergencies, but she really didn’t want her too involved.

But what was the alternative? The alternative was to give up the whole idea.

At last, Thea uncovered the sofa she knew was lying around somewhere in her bedroom. She could borrow Petal’s sleeping bag and Toby could sleep in that.

Molly delivered Toby a little earlier than Thea was expecting. Although they were perfectly amicable, Thea sensed they were beginning to get bored with each other and hoped that she would be able to find some way of entertaining a small boy, given her complete lack of anything in the way of toys, games machines or experience. ‘Hi, Toby. It’s nice to see you. Do you want to come in, Molly?’

‘No, I won’t stop. I’ve got to rush home and have a bath before we go out.’ She made a face. ‘You know it takes me ages to get ready.’

Thea did know.

‘Well, come in, Toby, and see my house. There’s probably not much to do in it, but I dare say we’ll have a nice time.’

Seeing her house through Toby’s eyes was a little unsettling. He eyed the piles of clutter, the posters on the walls, the quantity of books lying in piles on the stairs, with eloquent silence. He didn’t say anything, but it was obvious his own house was very different. Masculine and spare, was Thea’s guess. All this artistic student mess would probably put Ben right off. He was, after all, related to Petal and Molly, who were always complaining about it.

‘Now, Toby. Are you hungry? What would you like to eat?’

‘Anything.’

‘Could you be a bit more specific? I remember you’re a vegetarian, so I could always do you a baked potato. But what about pizzas?’

‘From the takeaway?’

‘Well, no.’ Thea was economising. ‘From the frying pan.’ Toby’s eyes widened in incredulity. ‘It’s quite easy,’ she went on. ‘You make a scone base, flatten it into the pan and cook it on both sides in olive oil. It’s not as good as a yeast base, of course, but it’s quick.’ Realising that recipes probably weren’t what interested seven-year-old boys, she decided they should move on to the practical aspect as soon as possible. ‘Shall we do that, then? You can put anything you like on top – as long as I’ve got it, of course.’