They saw Granger to the door. Carl had already taken Sally upstairs to her bedroom in the extension, and they could hear her giggling and screaming as Carl chased her across the landing with a Cookie Monster glove-puppet Granger stepped out on to the elevated wooden porch, and looked out over the warm twinkling Los Angeles night.

‘Thank you for your hospitality, Vee,’ he said. ‘And thank you for introducing me to Season. You take good care of her while she’s here. She’s a very special person.’

‘It was good to meet you,’ said Season. Granger took her hand, and gave it a quick, affectionate squeeze.

They both stood by the railing as Granger walked around to the car port at the side of the house. A few moments later, he reappeared in a glossy black Eldorado, booped the horn a couple of times, and drove off down to the road. They watched his tail-lights disappear through the leaves.

‘Well,’ said Vee. ‘What do you think of our spiritual leader? Quite miraculous, isn’t he?’

‘He’s good-looking. Maybe a little theatrical.’

‘Theatrical? Well, he may be theatrical by Kansas standards, but by Hollywood standards he’s positively normal. You ought to see the guru that Marjorie Newman goes to see. Hairy, and yukky, and not too particular about the condition of his loincloth, either. I think Granger’s a doll. If I wasn’t so much in love with Carl, I think I might be tempted to test his spirituality for weak spots.’

They went inside, and the screen door banged behind them. ‘You must come and see the extension,’ said Vee. ‘First we had fires, then we had a mudslide, but somehow we managed to survive long enough to finish it off. Thank God we don’t have any more disasters on the slate.’

‘I ought to call Ed and tell him we’ve arrived safely,’ said Season. ‘Is there a phone in my room?’

‘Oh, sure. Listen – let’s go upstairs and I’ll show you around. Then you can come down and have something to eat. Mind you – the way prices have been shooting up around here, we’re lucky to have half a tomato to nibble on.’

‘There’s been some kind of trouble with the vegetable crop here, hasn’t there?’ asked Season. ‘Some tomato grower was talking to me on the plane. And trying to make a pass, I might add. At least until Sally came walking along the aisle, calling me “mommy”.’

‘I don’t suppose it’s anything as bad as that wheat blight you’ve had in Kansas,’ said Vee, leading Season up a curving wooden staircase to an oak-panelled passageway. ‘But you have to do your marketing pretty early in the day if you want fresh lettuce and celery. By mid-morning, most of the stuff’s gone. Still – they say it’s just a “temporary shortfall”.’