‘The lock on the door has been tampered with. They must have been pretty stupid. It would have been much easier to break a window and get in that way. It was probably kids, messing about in the field.’

‘Was anything stolen?’

‘They didn’t manage to get in. Anyway, there’s sod all in there to steal.’

‘There’s your netsuke collection,’ I reminded him.

For a moment he stared blankly as if he didn’t know what I was talking about.

‘Oh that!’ He dismissed it airily. ‘I took that away with me the last time I came.’ He gave a grim smile. ‘I suppose I’m lucky they didn’t torch the place.’

‘Did you report it to the police?’

He shrugged. ‘Not much point. But I do need to improve my security arrangements. The workshop is vulnerable with me being away most of the time. That’s one of the reasons I’m down here, to take my tools back with me. I don’t want them getting nicked.’

‘So, you’ve had no luck with selling the place?’

‘Not so far. I’ll bully the agents while I’m here. But,’ he added, triumphantly drumming his fingers on the tabletop, ‘I think I’ve got a buyer for the stripping tank − my mate with the architectural salvage business. He says if I’m not around to strip his doors, he might as well do it himself. But he’s got some work he wants me to do first, that’s the other reason I’ve come down here. When I’ve done that, I can finally drain the tank.’

‘And how are things in Nottingham?’ I ventured. ‘Henry Wain and Arnold Bishop doing well?’

‘Thriving!’

‘You must have discovered another pot of Darkolene.’

‘No such luck! Actually,’ he said, giving a shy grin, ‘I’ve started selling paintings under my own name.’

‘Good for you.’ I picked up his empty glass. ‘That deserves another pint.’

‘No, no! My round.’ He took it from me as he stood up and jerked his head at the chalkboard menu on the pub wall. ‘I’ll even stand you to supper. I’ve got to deliver a very expensive repair to a lady in Truro tomorrow, so I’m feeling flush.’ He raised his eyebrows at me. ‘Pie and chips?’

I thought he’d never ask.

CHAPTER THIRTY-SIX

Next day being Thursday I went around to Brook Lane in the afternoon to see Maisie. I was much later than usual; I really felt I’d done enough for the day, but if I didn’t sort out her recycling before the rubbish was collected the following morning, she’d put everything in the wrong boxes and the refuse collectors wouldn’t take them.