‘You and me!’ he said, as if it was obvious.

I sighed. ‘I have my own work, my own business. Why can’t you get this through your thick head?’

He gave a snort of contempt. ‘Looking after old ladies … walking dogs … is not business! Is nothing!’ He slid a wicked glance at me. ‘Is no job for goddess.’

‘If you don’t shut up,’ I warned him, ‘I am going to throw you out of this van.’

He chuckled, but surrendered into silence whilst I drove us back to Ashburton.

All this was my own fault. Months ago I’d tried to persuade him to open the shop. You’ve got all that stock just sitting there, I’d said to him. If you gave this place a lick of paint, some clever lighting, you could make it look really inviting. And when he pointed out that it was in a poor trading position, I’d suggested something stupid like putting a cafe board on the corner of North Street, pointing visitors in the direction of Shadow Lane. I only had myself to blame.

Fortunately, when we got back to Nick’s, we had more immediate things to think about: for example, whether he was actually fit enough to climb the stairs. It took a little longer than usual but he made it, breathlessly. Once I had got him into his armchair, I took his key from him so that I could let myself back in, and went round to Mr Singh to pick up some essential groceries and give him a full report on the patient. By the time I got back, Nick had already risen from his chair and poured himself a whisky.

I frowned. ‘Are you allowed that on your medication?’ He just flapped his hand at me as if I was an irritating fly, so I decided to let him get on with it.

‘Mr Singh will be round first thing in the morning,’ I continued, ‘to see you’re all right.’

‘Why you no come?’ he demanded.

‘Because I am not your slave and because I have dogs to walk and jobs to do for other people. I’ll pop round later. I owe you some money, anyway.’

He frowned. ‘What for you owe me money?’

I told him about the stock I was trying to shift for him through Pat in the bazaar and his face wreathed in smiles. ‘You see, Juno, you like antiques business.’

I ignored this and ploughed on resolutely. ‘Now, do you think you can get down the stairs in the morning, to let Mr Singh in, or do you want me to take this key back to him, so he can get in by himself?’

‘What you think? I am not cripple. I have key.’ He held out his hand for it. ‘I be OK.’

I placed it in his waiting palm. ‘Do you want me to make you a sandwich before I go?’

‘No.’