Mitch nods. I can almost see him making mental notes. He’s in the middle of another question, about Budleigh this time, and what on earth the pair of them were doing here, when the kitchen door opens again. Another face I recognize.

‘Sylvester.’ I get to my feet, give him a hug.

He’s rubbing his face – says he’s taken a nap. I introduce him to Mitch.

‘Bill’s son,’ I tell him. ‘And Malo’s saviour.’ I turn back to Sylvester and then nod at the rain streaming down the window. ‘Not out running? Is that guilt you can feel?’

I go into far too much detail about Sylvester’s athletic prowess until even Bill is suggesting I shut up.

‘Malo is Enora’s son.’ Sylvester is looking at Mitch. ‘And now part of a little business of mine.’

Mitch nods, and then raises an eyebrow. When he first met Malo, three years ago, my son was zombied out on Spice and God knows what else, but H took him in hand and helped sort him out. This is the first time Mitch has heard about a full-time job.

‘So what do you do?’ he asks Sylvester.

‘We market survival packages. Think Doomsday. That’s where everything begins and ends.’

This is a wonderful come-on and I know Mitch wants to press him for more, but it’s Sylvester who changes the subject.

‘You know they’re getting married? Clemmie and your boy?’ He’s looking at me. ‘Congratulations, Mum. He popped the question last night. Put February the fourteenth in your diary. Doomsday permitting.’

Mitch and I say our goodbyes to Bill in the hall. He’s found an umbrella he says we’re welcome to keep, and he gives me the warmest hug before extending a bony hand to Mitch.

‘What’s your family name, by the way? Do you mind me asking?’

‘Not at all. It’s Culligan. We were Irish, back in the day.’

‘Ahhh …’ Bill nods. ‘And you’re a journalist?’

‘Yes.’

‘The Guardian, am I right?’

‘Yes. From time to time.’

‘I see. And you’re here for some kind of colour piece?’ He nods towards the watercolour of the Harz mountains. ‘Travel section? The glories of East Devon?’

Mitch holds his gaze. He says nothing but smiles and then shakes his head.

‘Excellent.’ Bill steps towards the front door. ‘I rather thought not.’