‘I am Irish, and I am mad,’ said Dermot unhelpfully, grinning at them and certainly looking the part. ‘But I’m not drunk and I undertake not to break the furniture.’

A neighbouring front door was heard to open. Laura hissed at her mother, ‘People will wonder what on earth’s going on! Let him in!’ As she said that, she got the door open and took hold of Dermot’s sleeve. ‘Get in, quickly!’

‘Have you any fierce chihuahuas in there?’ he asked, obviously relishing the situation.

‘No!’ Laura pulled him in. ‘They’re Dobermanns!’ She shut the door and leant on it, panting for a few seconds, and then regarded her parents and Dermot, who were all looking at her. She swallowed. ‘Mum, Dad, this is Dermot Flynn, the one who came to the literary festival I organised.’

Her parents stared at Dermot warily.

‘Maybe we should go through to the sitting room? I’ll put the kettle on,’ Laura persisted, convinced that the narrow hallway was not the best place to be in the circumstances.

‘How do you do, Laura’s mother.’ He took her hand. ‘Laura’s father. I’m Dermot Flynn and I’ve been trying to trace your daughter for some time.’

‘They’re Mr and Mrs Horsley,’ said Laura, beginning to see the funny side but trying to hide it with irritation. ‘Now do go and sit down, everyone. I’ll make tea.’ Her heart sang at the sight of him, even if she didn’t want him to see just how pleased she was to see him. He had a lot of explaining to do.

‘No!’ her mother squeaked, suddenly aware she and her husband would be left with this terrifying Irishman if Laura made tea. ‘I’ll do it!’

‘Now listen,’ said her father, bracing up to Dermot and seeming to Laura suddenly very old and frail. ‘I don’t know—’

‘I’m sure he’ll explain in a minute,’ said Laura, suddenly protective of her parents to whom Dermot must seem like a creature from another universe. ‘If we all just sit down where it’s comfortable, we can talk.’

Feeling like a corgi nipping at the heels of beasts much larger, she chivvied her father and Dermot into the sitting room and her mother into the kitchen. She virtually pushed the men into chairs and switched off the television.

‘Well, Dermot,’ she said into the silence, frightened that she might laugh, ‘fancy meeting you here.’

‘To be honest, Laura, and hoping I’m not being rude –’ he glanced at Laura’s father, who was looking very wary and ready to spring up at any moment, should Dermot look like doing anything unexpected ‘– but I’d have preferred to meet you somewhere else.’

‘Oh?’ She would too, obviously, but couldn’t say so.

‘Yes, I’ve had the devil of a job finding you.’

‘So, how do you two know each other?’ her father asked.