‘It looks as if you’re torturing it,’ she said.

Jake laughed. ‘I get a bit carried away with the buying. But people often choose stuff from up here. I think they enjoy it being a bit chaotic. I don’t follow them around or anything.’

Downstairs, he showed her his little office which opened into a small yard at the back and had once been the kitchen. On the desk in the middle of the room were an old Adler typewriter, piles of duplicate books, a calculator and all sorts of bits and pieces, tins and nails, rubber bands and wooden drawer knobs.

‘How did you get into doing this?’ she asked him.

‘Took a degree in philosophy.’

She wasn’t certain for a second if he was serious. ‘I’ve got a degree in history so I’m a history teacher. Bit predictable in comparison, I suppose.’

‘Thing is – what do you do with a degree in philosophy? I started off selling a few oddments out of a van. Did it from home. I got hooked on it really and it grew from there. Before that,’ he added lightly, ‘I had a successful career selling insurance.’

‘Oh, yeah? I can really imagine you doing that!’

‘I see you don’t believe me.’

Anna perched herself on the corner of his desk. ‘Does that kettle work?’

‘Has been known to. Why, d’you think you’re going to get a drink as well?’ His grey eyes were full of amusement. He filled the kettle. ‘It’d be nicer up in the flat, but I’m afraid I can’t take you up just in case anyone comes in. You haven’t got to rush then?’

‘No. I’ve no plans. I’m still cleaning Mom’s house but I’m taking my time over it. Actually I’ve just resigned from my job.’

Jake looked at her steadily. ‘Wow. Big decisions.’ Again she found herself grateful to him for not overreacting.

She looked back into the shop. ‘I only wish I could buy something off you, but I’m already saddled with two houses and I really need to get rid of things.’

‘Two?’

‘Mom’s, and our house in Coventry.’

‘With your boyfriend?’ He leaned towards the old brown kettle to hear if it was heating.

‘Ex-boyfriend.’ She paused. ‘How long have you been on your own?’

‘Year and a half nearly. What about you?’

‘I left him a month ago. But to be honest I feel as if I’ve been on my own a lot longer. He keeps trying to get in touch but I can’t face it. I’m trying to avoid him. Cowardly, really.’

He watched her, seriously. ‘That’s rough.’

‘Yes. But I know it’s the right thing, in the end.’

His eyes searched her face for a moment and she wondered with a certain amount of panic whether disclosures were about to follow, his marriage, what had gone wrong. But he looked down, pouring milk from a carton. After he’d handed her her coffee he leaned up against the old worktop.

‘What did you think of Olivia’s little display last night?’