Sebastian led him back downstairs to the kitchen. The smell from the Aga was wondrous, but Graeme toyed with leaving right away. Did he really need the job? He decided that he did. Managing a project of this size could change his life, and that of his kids. Sebastian opened the Aga and placed a pasty on each of two plates. They sat at the kitchen table, without ceremony.

‘Let’s talk money,’ Sebastian said.

‘What’s your budget?’

‘Name your price.’

‘I’m not after your cash. I’d expect a project manager’s wage. The rest would be costs.’

‘Project managers are on a thousand a day in London, but this is Cumbria.’

Graeme wondered how a man like Sebastian would know that kind of thing. He had no clue what type of project management could possibly pay a thousand quid a day, but he chanced his arm.

‘I’d only want seven hundred.’

‘Done. I might ask your advice on other matters. I need to learn about my neighbours.’

‘Of course you do.’

They ate. The pasty was decent, but not local.

‘I’m going to London tomorrow,’ Sebastian said. ‘Here’s a key: come and go as you please. Don’t spend a penny without my say-so, and keep me informed about what’s being said about that nasty business with George, will you?’

‘Of course. I know most folk round here.’

‘You can be my eyes and ears, then.’ Sebastian held his gaze.

‘Thank you for the pasty. It was a good one. I must be getting back now. I won’t let you down.’

‘Family to go back to?’

‘Divorced.’

‘I like all sorts of pasties – meat, veg, fish… How about you?’

‘I only like the traditional ones, I’m afraid. That fancy stuff isn’t for me.’

He’d made himself clear. Sebastian smiled.

‘Perhaps I can change your mind.’

Graeme stood up. ‘God loves a trier,’ he said. Sebastian laughed. The line in the sand had been drawn.

They shook hands and Graeme left Sebastian with his bottle of wine, next to the warmth of the Aga. The same Aga where George Murphy had cooked his meals for a whole week without anyone knowing he was there. As he left by the back door and walked around the front, Graeme looked up at the smoking chimney and the lights burning upstairs. Had George existed in the dark and not lit a fire? It was a curious set of puzzle pieces that rattled around in his head. Next time he saw Kelly Porter, he’d ask her for sure.

Chapter 19