‘Okay. But the show-and-tell was . . . I was very interested to hear all that. You and Walter must have been quite something as history teachers.’ I look down at my clipboard, as if a price range might have materialised while we’ve been off in the Civil War. My knee feels as if it could lock, but it’s only a feeling, I know that. Three bedrooms, one bathroom, work to be done. Good bones. A price range. This is a moment when hopes deflate a little, shoulders fall, almost always. ‘Low to mid threes? Three hundred to three fifty?’

She nods. ‘All right.’ The window light is on her lenses again, green rectangles bobbing with the nod. I concentrate on that for a second, not the knee.

‘I can see what the others at the agency think. Show them a few photos and the details.’ My hand pats the clipboard. ‘Have you had any other appraisals?’

‘No. Just you. In response to your notice in my mailbox.’ The music surges from the speakers across the room. There’s a high male voice singing now. ‘I’m planning to sell, but I took that as a sign that I should make a start on it.’

‘Well, you’re welcome to get other opinions, of course, so . . .’

‘Oh, no, no.’ She waves the thought away. ‘I’ve done my research. I’ve been online. I know what people are asking for what, and I know what they’re getting for it too. I had three twenty to three forty in mind. As what the market is paying for this kind of place. I would of course welcome it if you can push the price any higher. You and Mr McCord. But I know that’s where it sits.’

‘Rob will get you a good price,’ I tell her, though it’s just a thing I seem to end up saying in these conversations. I can’t see that he’s any more or less likely to get a good price than any of the others. But Rob McCord is not dishonest and not wilfully awful, and I would let him sell my house if I needed to sell it. ‘I’ll give you some time to think about it, to think about signing with Rob McCord Realty as the exclusive agency. I might give you a call tomorrow. If you decide to go ahead with it, we’ll look at getting some photos done and how to plan the listing.’

‘Very good.’ She reaches a hand out for me to shake. ‘Thank you, Mike. Thank you for helping me begin this process.’

I follow her to the door, fighting the urge to guard my left knee, talking it into bending with each step. A gait is not an easy thing to relearn.

She waves as I drive off and, in the mirror, I see her open her mailbox and reach her hand in before the bushes in her garden block my view.