‘Mind if I leave this with you?’ She handed Maggie a sealed foolscap envelope with Byford’s name written on the front. ‘He knows what it is.’

‘Sure, I’ll leave it on his desk.’ She dropped it in his in-tray.

By six she was finished for the day. But rather than drive straight home she took a detour, heading along the main route out of town, then cutting up a side street before swinging left into the road where Lou used to live. Drawing level with her sister’s old house, she pulled into a vacant space opposite.

Maggie spotted immediately that the front door had been repainted since her last visit and the unexpected change floored her. The paintwork was now fire-engine red, glossily coated on to cover the sky blue of old. She lowered her window and stared at the house. Did the new owners see the irony in choosing a shade that represented the reason why they were able to buy it for such a low price in the first place?

The fire had begun in the kitchen but was contained before it could cause widespread damage. The few lingering traces had been obliterated by the installation of new double-glazed windows downstairs to replace the ones blown out by the heat, while the sooty exterior brickwork had been power-washed back to clean. The house looked loved again.

Maggie knew that going there was a habit she should break but she couldn’t help herself. She was welded to the memories the house held within its walls and with her birthday tomorrow they were more acute than ever. Last year Lou had thrown a BBQ for her on the Saturday before – it had been a brilliant afternoon that staggered hazily into the evening and Maggie remembered feeling overcome with happiness to be surrounded by her family and close friends. Lou had raised her glass at one point and said, ‘Next year we’ll have the mother of all parties for your thirtieth!’ But Maggie wasn’t interested. ‘No. Let’s do this again,’ she’d said. ‘This is perfect.’

She swallowed the tears building in the back of her throat as her fingers clenched the key in the ignition. Turn it, start the engine, drive away. Seconds ticked by but still she didn’t move. Then her phone rang, forcing her out of her stupor.

‘Hey, I was going to call you when I got home,’ she answered, thankful for the interruption. ‘What time will you get to mine?’

‘I know where you are,’ said Umpire, his voice unexpectedly tender.

‘What?’

‘Look in your rear-view mirror.’

Three spaces behind her, he was leaning against the bonnet of his car dressed in a white T-shirt, navy shorts adorned with more pockets than one person would ever need, his feet sockless in trainers. She smiled through her tears. Seeing Umpire in casual clothes still took some getting used to.