Tom went to look at the computer and its various attachments. ‘I could set it up for you, if you like. I promise I’d not damage anything. I’m pretty good with computers.’

Jez frowned. Normally he didn’t allow anyone else to touch his music computer, but somehow Tom was different. Not only was he his son, but he was young enough to understand computers properly, instead of learning about them step by painful step. ‘All right. That’d be a big help. I’ve got the leads labelled.’ He went across to whisper his password in his son’s ear. ‘Keep that to yourself. You’re the only other person in the world who knows it.’

Tom went slightly pink and tried unsuccessfully to hide his pleasure.

Jez retreated to his bedroom, sighing in relief to find that someone had made up his bed. At the sound of footsteps, he turned to see Donna bringing in a tray.

‘We thought you should have something to eat before you lie down. It’s—’

‘I’m not hungry and— Is that Sophie’s chocolate cake?’

‘Yes. She delivered it to the gate and Kevin OK’d it to come inside.’

Jez broke off a piece of the generous slice and ate it slowly, closing his eyes in bliss. ‘If she wasn’t a novelist, she’d be a famous cook, I’m sure. And this is without wheat flour, you know. She’s going to write a cookery book for people with food problems one day.’

Donna smiled and backed towards the door. ‘Yeah. You’ve told me that a few times. I’ll buy a copy when she does. I tasted the crumbs and my diet went straight out of the window. We’re all going to have a slice now. Have a good rest, Jez.’

He ate the cake slowly and with relish, thought about ringing to thank Sophie then decided to lie down for a few minutes first. When he woke, it was two hours later and the house seemed very still.

He got out of the bed, doing stretching exercises automatically to get both sides of his body in balance as he went across to the window. The removal men had taken their mammoth boxes on wheels away and the gardens were no longer full of Lowry-esque figures hauling furniture and boxes around. From here he could see the front gates and gardens, but not Sophie’s house. He went into a bedroom at the other side of this wing. That was better! He could see the rear of her house from here.

What was she doing now? Writing? He glanced at his watch. It was late afternoon. Maybe she’d stopped for the day. On that thought he went back to his bedroom, fumbled through his pockets for his mobile phone, and rang her.

‘Are you working?’

‘Only on business stuff. I’ve finished my storytelling for the day.’

‘Can I come over?’

‘I thought you were only going to visit me after dark.’

‘The gate’s well hidden by the trees on both sides. I’m sure no one will be able to see me.’