A young boy with light brown skin suddenly appeared from behind the counter. Seeing Grisha, his eyes widened, and the trace of a smile flitted across his face. He placed his hand gently on Grisha’s neck and began to stroke him.

‘This is my nephew, Treasure, Ruby’s boy. He’s helping me out during half term while his mum’s at work. He loves dogs, don’t you Treasure?’

The boy looked up at his aunt, to acknowledge that she’d spoken, but remained silent.

‘He doesn’t talk much,’ Diamond explained, somewhat unnecessarily, to Imelda.

Shunty-Mae winked at Treasure. ‘I expect he’s the strong, silent type.’

After their lunch, Imelda left Shunty-Mae in the café playing rock-paper-scissors with Treasure, while she took Grisha for a walk. She had been tempted to ask Treasure to accompany them. Perhaps she might be able to persuade him to confide in her, particularly if she had the help of Grisha. His quiet, comforting presence often had the effect of relaxing her clients, particularly those who were nervous or distressed. He seemed to sense who would welcome the warm weight of his head on their lap or a furry paw to hold. Occasionally, he would get up as soon as a client walked into the booth and disappear behind the curtain. It was the awkward ones that he always left Imelda to deal with on her own.

Imelda stuck to the promenade. It was too hot for Grisha to race along the beach, and they would have had to weave their way through sunbathers and sandcastles. There was also the temptation of picnics and al fresco fish and chips that might prove too much for an ever-hungry borzoi. The promenade offered a patchwork of shade and snatches of sea breeze, but the heat was still intense, and a short stroll was enough to loosen Grisha’s long limbs after a morning of lolling about, and Imelda led him, panting, back to the umbral calm of the booth. Leaning nonchalantly against the doorway, wearing a roguish smile and a well-worn white T-shirt that showed off his muscular arms, was Cillian Byrne. Grisha dragged Imelda towards him, his tail wagging furiously and his mouth open in a ridiculously goofy doggy grin. Imelda concealed her excitement a little more successfully than her hound. She smiled what she hoped was her mysterious yet seductive smile and trusted that Cillian would realise her pink cheeks were a consequence of exposure to the sun rather than to his considerable charm.

‘Mr Byrne. What a pleasant surprise. Are you here for a reading?’

Cillian disentangled himself from Grisha and followed Imelda inside the booth.

‘I’m not. I was just passing, and I thought I’d call in and see if I could take you for a drink or maybe an ice cream. I’m sure the big hairy fellow here would love one too.’