When she opens the door, Dominica sees that Helga is wearing holey tracksuit pants, her worn canvas shoes and a long coat that looks as if it came from a charity shop. What on earth is Emma going to make of her?

Dominica follows her inside. ‘Oh my God!’

She takes a step back, her hand on her chest. There’s a huge seagull in the kitchen. It paddles its feet and flaps its huge wings. Helga laughs at her shock.

‘It’s only Terry,’ she says, bustling the seagull out of the kitchen door and locking it. ‘He came in for his breakfast.’

‘You feed him in the kitchen?’

‘He and Julie – that’s his wife – they’ve had chicks. He’s got a lot on his plate.’

Dominica laughs and follows her through to the sitting room. There are two low sofas and worn silk rugs on the wooden floorboards. It’s got a very artistic vibe. A huge model of a sailing ship dominates one wall, along with Japanese glass floats in worn rope, then the room opens onto an arty studio space with a glass roof and glass doors to the overgrown garden. It feels like a forgotten cottage in the middle of the countryside.

‘I love it,’ Dominica says.

‘My niece Mette wants me to move. To some dreadful retirement village.’

‘You?’ Dominica can’t help laughing.

‘Exactly. She thinks I’m old.’

She knows she’s being nosy, but whilst Helga runs upstairs, she walks into the conservatory where there are several easels and canvases stacked up against the wall. She spots some sketches pinned to long looping string across the ceiling, like photos in a dark room, or T-shirts on a washing line. She walks along, studying them, realising with shock that one of them is Claire.

She knew Claire had modelled for her, but she hadn’t seen the result. This is gorgeous. It captures Claire in all her curvy glory.

‘Helga, these are amazing,’ Dominica says when she comes back.

‘She’s a good model, right?’ she says, grinning. ‘My friend Rutger’s sketch was even better. I think she’s got that one.’

‘Do you think she’s shown Pim?’

‘I doubt it. But she should.’

Helga locks up and they go down the lane to where the car is parked.

‘It’s weird,’ Dominica says. ‘I hope I can remember how to drive.’ She smiles over the roof of the car at Helga. She means it. She’s travelled the world, but after lockdown her horizons have shrunk so much that going to London seems like a really big deal.

‘Me too,’ Helga says, settling into the passenger’s seat. She picks up the bag on it. ‘What’s this?’

‘That’s for you. Don’t be offended,’ Dominica says.

Helga looks inside. There’s a new swimming costume with lots of technical-looking labels attached to it. Not cheap then. ‘You’re too embarrassed by the old one?’

‘I hope it fits.’

‘It’s lovely and very thoughtful,’ Helga says. ‘Thank you.’

They drive out of town and when Helga asks how it’s going at work, Dominica tells her the big news of the week.