The room was devoid of furniture, but had a couple of saris in glowing shades of deep rose pink, dull purple and rich blue draped across the two windowless walls, and a two-foot-high Buddha sitting serenely on a low, ornately carved table. A vase in front of it held one perfect flower. There was a stained-glass panel in the window, floor to ceiling, showing lush tropical flowers. It cast jewel-coloured patches of light everywhere. Something as beautiful as that must have cost a fortune. With the saris, the whole room was glowing with colour, not garish, very harmonious.

On the floor was a quilted piece, like no rug he’d ever seen, with curving patterns and different textures in shades of white on white, coloured only by light falling through the stained glass.

He had an inexplicable urge to sit on that rug and close his eyes. But he didn’t want to intrude on her private place, so went back to ask her if he could make himself a cup of coffee.

‘Go ahead. And have another piece of cake. There’s plenty.’

‘Do you want a cup?’

‘Mmm? No, thanks.’

And she was typing away again.

The phone rang as he was walking back to the kitchen and he heard her answering it, telling someone not to come round today.

He smiled wryly. He’d have liked to find out more about her, but could understand what was driving her. He was just the same when he was writing a song, working out the words and arrangement, impatient of interruptions.

A dark limo arrived an hour later and turned in to the drive. Hearing it, Jez lifted the corner of the kitchen blind to peer out. Before the limo had even stopped in front of the house the three journalists came running along the street to the gate.

Craig, his assistant minder, got out and stayed at the gate, arms folded, keeping them at bay, looking mean and powerful. Jez grinned. Craig wouldn’t hurt a fly, fought only in self-defence, but no one need know that.

Kevin got out of the limo, by which time Jez had opened the front door. ‘Just a minute.’ He went back to his hostess. ‘Sorry to interrupt you again, but they’ve come for me.’

Sophie swung round and blinked as if roused from a deep sleep, then smiled. She seemed to smile a lot.

‘Sorry. When an idea takes me, I forget about the rest of the world.’

‘I’m like that when I’m writing music.’

‘You’ll forgive me for being a poor hostess, then?’

‘You’ve been a wonderful hostess, given me a few hours of real peace. I can’t thank you enough.’

‘I’ll see you out.’ She walked with him to the door. Cameras flashed from the gates and she looked towards them in surprise. ‘Are they still here?’

‘Ignore them. This is Kevin, my minder, or chief of security if you want his posh title.’

She shook hands, giving Kevin another of her lovely smiles, then turned back to Jez. ‘Good luck with the house-hunting.’