‘I know, but I was busy – trying to earn money. Three airport runs and only one stingy tip.’

‘You should think about working for Uber. You can rate your passengers, give them one star if they don’t tip.’

‘The day I work for Uber,’ he replied, ‘will be the day I own it.’

She let that go, Niall and his big dreams, not wanting their row to flare up again. ‘It’ll take me just five minutes to dash in and get it.’

He grunted.

She leaned forward and picked his iPhone up. ‘Just going to look at the photos you took today.’

‘Can’t believe you let your phone battery run so low, it has a much better camera.’

‘I would have charged it in the car if you’d remember to get a new cable that actually works. I’ve turned it off to conserve what’s left,’ she said, flicking through the maze of apps.

‘You should have charged it last night.’

She shook her head. ‘Well I didn’t.’

He grunted again.

‘Christ,’ she said, continuing to look through his apps. ‘How many apps do you have on here? You must have over a hundred! Bet you don’t even remember what half of them are. You said you were going to get rid of the ones you never use.’

‘I will when I have time.’

She shook her head, grinning. ‘If it makes you happy to have them . . .’

He grinned back. ‘Actually, it makes me ’appy.’

‘That’s terrible!’ She found a folder labelled Photography, which contained the camera and albums, and tapped on Photos. There were several, taken earlier this afternoon, of the beautiful exterior of a grand Elizabethan mansion and its magnificently kept grounds looking their best in the late summer sun. The lake. The views across the South Downs. Then several of her, in tight white shorts and a pink top, leaning against a wooden railed fence, with the lake behind.

‘Wow! You’ve taken some great ones of me!’ she said. ‘Love them. Well, some of them.’

‘They’d have been even better on your phone.’

Surreptitiously, she deleted the ones she liked the least, leaving just one that she was really happy with, the one of her standing with the lake in the background. Then she went back to going through the apps. ‘What’s this one – MindNode?’

‘No idea.’

‘I’ll delete it for you, shall I?’

‘Go ahead,’ he said, with faint irritation in his voice.

She continued through, deleting a couple more after questioning him on them.

As they entered the 40 mph limit on the Upper Shoreham Road, he pointed through the windscreen at the thickening clouds. ‘Rain’s forecast in two hours. I’ve got to do a Heathrow pickup tonight and I really want to do a bike ride after the Grand Prix, get in some cardio before I have to go. Can it wait until tomorrow?’

‘The cat won’t know to cross its legs, darling,’ she said. ‘Just pull up outside, I can run into the store, grab some and be straight out again. I’ll be five minutes.’