After lunch, they pulled on their coats against a keen December wind and went out on foot, Nico happy to leave the buggy behind and let Josie be in charge of Maria’s reins.

Josie tapped the chocolate box under Nico’s arm. ‘Do you think Nan Heather will share?’

‘You’ve just had lunch,’ Nico reminded her. Josie looked at him as if wondering what his point was.

Nan Heather opened the side door before they’d knocked. Her curls fluffed atop her head like a punk-rock sheep and her plaster cast stuck out from her sleeve. ‘I saw you through the window. Hannah said you’d moved here, Nico. And the little girls, too! Hello, my ducks! Come in out of the cold. Would you like hot chocolate? Or orange juice?’

‘Juice, p’ease.’ Maria bustled happily over the threshold.

Josie followed. ‘Hot chocolate, please.’

Nico followed on into Nan Heather’s small yellow kitchen with white-painted cabinets and old-fashioned appliances. Cacti grew in a row on the windowsill like green hedgehogs marching from one rose-strewn curtain to the other and a row of Christmas cards glittered prettily from the dresser.

When he presented Nan with the chocolates, she beamed, faded eyes looming through her glasses. ‘You didn’t have to do that!’ Then, in the same breath, ‘Let’s get them open.’ The girls clustered around her as she lowered herself carefully onto a kitchen chair.

Hannah appeared from the next room. ‘This is a nice surprise.’

Nico had known he might see her this time so her smile didn’t hit him in the groin so much as last night. Soon she was boiling milk for hot chocolate, pouring juice and making coffee. Through the doorway, he could see an open laptop and a notepad on the table.

‘We’ve disturbed you,’ he said apologetically, when she handed him a steaming mug.

‘It’s fine,’ she said quickly. ‘Nan’s obviously delighted to see your kids.’ She faltered as if wondering whether to revisit the term ‘your kids’ but he gave her an understanding smile and she went on. ‘I’ve unexpectedly picked up a project. A local rich kid, Simeon, converted old stables into a courtyard of crafty, cutesy shops and a tea room. He’s occupied elsewhere so I’m getting the traders into their units and doing the PR for the opening on the nineteenth. Simeon’s mum, Cassie, employed me but his dad, Christopher … It’s as if he suspects me of forcing Simeon to go so I can step into his shoes.’ Her blue-green eyes were alight as she talked. Her hair was piled on top of her head and tendrils escaped as if shaken free by a busy day.