He hoped Lily wouldn’t mind working with lazybones Andy. What a troubled story she’d told him last night. For the weeks he’d known her a sunny smile had been her default expression but last night worry had puckered her forehead and drawn down the corners of her mouth. It had tugged at Isaac’s heart.

He turned back to his notes, trying to pull together everything the accountant needed. Apart from the accountant’s bill, HMRC was his final creditor. As soon as the ‘closed’ notices had gone up at the Juno he’d satisfied his payroll and other creditors and sold fixtures and inventory so he had a reasonable idea of what he was worth, which was a whole hell of a lot less than he used to be worth, but he was not sure where he was emotionally. That was harder to determine.

When Flora phoned Isaac at six thirty in the evening his paperwork had prevented him managing the trip into Derbyshire he’d hoped for, but at least he’d managed to walk the circuit of the bridleways around the village twice, which totalled over six miles according to his app.

‘Hey!’ Flora breezed. ‘We’re in the pub car park.’

‘On my way down,’ he responded. ‘Has Dad got his chair?’

‘No, he’s having a good day and says he’s OK on his stick.’

Isaac pulled on his jacket and, closing the door to his rooms behind him, ran downstairs and out of the back door. Spotting Flora waiting beside her aged Ford Mondeo in the car park lights, he gave her a quick hug.

She hugged him back. ‘If you can help Dad, I’ll bring Jeremy and Jasmine.’

‘Yep, great,’ he agreed.

But his mother, Stef, was first out of the car. ‘Evening, Isaac,’ she said, pulling her coat close around herself and shivering. ‘Blimey, it’s parky. Nothing to stop the wind, out here in the sticks.’

‘True.’ He gave her a hug, glad to see her even if he knew this was probably the first of many complaints he’d hear this evening, then went around to the other side of the car in time to help his dad to his feet. ‘Hi, Dad. How are you doing?’

‘Much as usual, thanks,’ puffed his dad. Unfortunately, ‘usual’ for Ray O’Brien was weak and exhausted since ME had ravaged his body and made him prone to infections and depression. But he gave Isaac a smile and told him it was good to see him as he leaned on his arm for the short walk to the pub’s front door.

Flora’s kids, four-year-old Jasmine and six-year-old Jeremy, were leaping from the car, trying to evade Flora’s guiding hands, shouting, ‘Uncle Isaac, we’re going to eat dinner at your pub!’ And, ‘Have you got burgers?’