‘Soon,’ she murmured. ‘You can go back to him.’ Then she went home and locked her and Doggo into her apartment. And the rest of the world out.

Tuesday was spent with the washing machine whirring and, with Carola, tying up the last few trip-related loose ends.

Lily tried not to outstay her welcome in Carola’s kitchen, tastefully decorated with holly and red baubles, because Owen was there, on sick leave with bruising on his temple and two black eyes. A stitched cut at the corner of his mouth made him look a bit Nightmare Before Christmas. Lily hugged him as if he were made of eggshell. ‘You poor thing! I hope the police have the bastards who did this.’

Owen talked cautiously out of the unstitched side of his mouth. ‘They have CCTV footage of three people in black hoodies and scarves. Not much to go on.’ He and Carola kept holding hands or giving each long looks, Carola bestowing tiny caresses to his poor bruised face and asking if he was quite sure he was all right.

The only thing marring Carola’s happiness, it seemed, was the issue of her ex. ‘It’s bothersome,’ she confided under her breath as Lily prepared to depart through the kitchen door to her own quarters. ‘It’s my turn to have the girls for Christmas but because Duncan’s no longer comfortably loved up with Sherri he’s gone all hangdog about it. He moved up to Bettsbrough yesterday, sleeping on his brother’s sofa as they don’t actually have room for him, he told Charlotte. He’s constantly on the phone to his solicitor to try and get his dosh out of Sherri. The girls have gone all soppy about him. Emily’s even asked whether we can invite him on Christmas Day.’ Carola pulled a face. ‘It’s my first Christmas with Owen but …’

Lily pulled a sympathetic face as Carola went back to Owen and Lily opened the door, a dancing dog greeting her on the staircase as if she’d been gone for a month, half a Dentastick in his mouth. ‘Go on down.’ She laughed, and he ran down looking at her over his shoulder, which seemed tricky but he accomplished it with ease.

Once the washing machine was emptied and the clothes were dancing on the line outside, Lily checked her email inbox in case of enquiries from anyone wanting her exhibition design skills.

Nothing.

She emailed the two clients she expected to work with on their stands for the London Book Fair in March and tried to pin them down to meetings or telephone conversations, Doggo lying comfortingly on her feet as she worked.