He stood watching her as she walked off quickly down the street amid the song of birds.

The banner across Jake’s shopfront was a deep green with gold letters which read, Jake’s Pine.

‘I was looking out for you.’ He appeared in the doorway, an old cloth in one hand, and came to join her in the sunshine, looking up appraisingly at the building. ‘So, d’you like it? I’ve just cleaned the windows.’

She saw the pavement was wet and felt touched. Had he wanted her to see it at its best? The windows were still drying and behind them she could see the furniture: on one side a round table and chairs, a vase of dried teasels on the table, on the other a sturdy chest of drawers topped by a swing mirror, a rocking chair beside it.

‘It looks really impressive. And I like the name. I expected something more twee.’

‘Yes. Easy trap to fall into with this sort of stuff. Not really me, though.’ He talked fast and she saw he was nervous, more than she was. After all, he had asked her to come here.

‘Trouble is, people keep coming in and asking me if it’s getting better.’

She frowned. ‘What?’

He thickened his Brummy accent. ‘The pine.’

Anna exploded into laughter. Jake’s dry humour confirmed why she had come. Talking to him had made her happy and uplifted after the past gloomy weeks. Such a relief after Richard.

‘Come in. I’ll show you round.’ He stood back to let her through, his huge hands holding the door. It felt strange being suddenly alone with him, but there was a gentleness about him, about those hands, which made her trust him.

The shop was surprisingly big inside and extended up to the second floor. She followed him round, their shoes sounding on the bare boards. The downstairs was arranged carefully, without preciousness, so that items could be seen at their best. Painted wooden cats sprawled over some of the surfaces, and there were vases and stacks of wooden picture frames. Anna walked slowly among the dressers and cupboards, bedframes and chairs, touching smooth wood and admiring.

‘D’you do it all up yourself?’ she asked.

‘A lot of it needs attention of some sort,’ he said. ‘Most of them are painted when I get them. Look at this – this one was in a right state when I got it.’

He showed her an elegant wardrobe with carved patterns on the doors. ‘Look at the texture in that.’ He stroked the smooth surface. ‘It’s like bringing something to life again. This was covered in brown paint, would you believe – I mean imagine painting wood like that brown . . .’

She followed him up to the second floor. ‘The top’s my flat, well, hardly more than a bedsit really, but it does me fine. There’s space for Elly when she comes. This floor’s more for storage.’

The rooms up there were crammed full of chests of drawers, bedframes packed tightly together in rows, stacked chairs, their legs in the air. A large table was roped upside down to hooks on the ceiling.