She seemed to sense his presence and swung round, her smile as gentle and friendly as everything else about her. He wished … he didn’t know what he wished. But he’d enjoyed her company and her peaceful house so much, he didn’t want to leave. It had been like an oasis in a desert.

‘Enjoy your sleep?’

‘Yes. Very refreshing. But now I really must phone my security staff for help.’

She nodded and turned back to her computer.

In the sitting room he took out his mobile, switching it on and dialling, then watching a bird come to the feeder outside and peck happily away. Someone picked up at the other end before the phone could ring a second time. Kevin. His chief of security and general factotum.

‘Where the hell have you been, Jez?’

‘I slipped the leash and went to visit that big house in Hampstead.’

‘We saw the keys were missing and Craig went there. He found no sign of you.’

‘Yeah, well, the press got on to me and I had to escape.’

‘Where are you now? Somewhere safe, I hope?’

‘I’m next door. I was given refuge by the owner. She’s been really kind.’

‘Why didn’t you ring sooner?’

‘I fell asleep. Best sleep I’ve had for weeks, actually.’

Kevin’s voice softened. ‘That’s good. What number are you at?’

‘Damned if I know. Have to go and ask her. It’s one of a group of four desirable modern residences. Hold on a minute.’ Jez strolled back to the office, feeling guilty about interrupting Sophie again. ‘What’s the number of this house, please?’

She told him, but he could see she was itching to return to her work. ‘I’ll – um, just …’

By the time he reached the door, her fingers were clicking away again. He felt vaguely miffed, then shook his head at himself. Conceited sod! You can’t expect everyone to hang on your words.

The voice on the mobile squawked at him, reminding him of what he’d gone to find out, so he passed on the number to Kevin.

‘I’ll ring you back when we’ve got something arranged. Will she let you stay till then, Jez?’

‘I don’t think she’ll even notice whether I’m here or not.’

‘You must be slipping. Or else she’s over eighty.’

‘She’s younger than me, but she’s got a life. She’s a novelist, Sophie Carr. Have you heard of her?’

‘Yeah. She’s one of my wife’s favourite authors.’

‘Get Donna to buy me her books.’

‘Which ones? She’s written quite a few.’

‘All of them. I need something to do while I’m recovering. You can’t play a guitar all the time.’ And he’d still got a long way to go before he’d be bouncing around the universe again.

He didn’t like to disturb his hostess so wandered through the ground-floor rooms, hoping she wouldn’t mind. It was a big place for one woman. He found a room set up with a walking machine and a TV, a formal dining room that looked unused, and finally, on the other side of the internal courtyard, was a … damned if he knew what that room was for. A shrine was the nearest he could come to defining it.