‘Who the hell are you lot?’ demanded Rory as the man, whom Thea faintly recognised, came in with the small boy, who looked so like him that he could only be his son.

‘I’m Ben Jonson,’ said the man, holding out his hand to Rory. ‘I’m sorry to barge in on you like this. I meant to come on my own.’ He cast a despairing look at Molly and Petal. ‘I’ve been trying to track you down for years.’

Lara, who’d been silent for some moments, gave another cry and began to move around the room as fast as her bulk would allow.

Thea, stepping aside and pulling Molly out of the way too, demanded, ‘Molly! What the hell are you doing here? And why did you bring Petal? I asked you to find a contact for me, not personally escort the Cavalry.’

‘I came to look after Toby,’ said Petal somewhat defiantly and Thea noticed that she wasn’t wearing make-up and didn’t look her usual confident self.

‘We were so worried about you,’ explained Molly. ‘I realise it probably does look a little extreme, but I felt I had to come and see you were all right. When Ben said he’d heard of your artist, I thought it my duty –’ Thea’s look made her add, ‘Oh, OK. I was dying of curiosity.’ She made it sound like it really was a fatal disease. ‘I had to go with him and see what had happened to you.’

‘And Toby came because he’s dotty about Irish myths and legends. He’s read a book about them,’ said Petal, half-proud, half-mystified.

Thea sighed deeply and turned to the little boy. Whoever else was to blame for this fiasco, it wasn’t him. ‘You must be Toby,’ she said.

He nodded. He looked extremely tired and confused. ‘Are you hungry?’ Thea had little or no experience of small boys, but anyone under seventeen seemed to need to eat almost constantly. She wasn’t sure when this kicked in but thought she’d take a chance on it being at about seven. He could have the chocolate pudding.

Toby looked around wonderingly. ‘Not really.’

‘I am. I’m starving,’ said Petal again. ‘Have you got a biscuit or anything? It’s been ghastly at home. We got some people to clear up the sick, but the washing machine still doesn’t work, although the man came and took a penny out of the filter. It cost ninety pounds, by the way, which you owe us, because he wouldn’t go away until he’d got it. So, have you got any food?’

Any thought Thea had of offering Petal chocolate pudding dissolved. ‘I’ve no idea, it’s not my house. You’ll have to ask Rory. Rory, this is Petal.’