Terri’s voice skidded to a halt and she laughed. ‘Well, great,’ she said. ‘But you don’t know when it is yet.’

‘When is it?’

‘Next weekend. You’d fly Wednesday the thirtieth.’

His thoughts spun rapidly to the meeting with the publisher, to lunch with his agent, to the Thursday morning 6 Music gig with Lauren Laverne, to the writing commitments he had, yet none of these things held his full attention in the face of this barely believable turn of events. That this should happen, that Terri should call with this offer, on this very day, was insane. It was perfect. It was meant to be.

‘Great,’ he said. ‘No problem. Thanks, Terri, email me the details,’ and he hung up, and gave a great shout of laughter that woke the dog, who stared at Dan with reproachful eyes.

‘Sorry, buddy,’ he said to McCulloch. ‘You’re not going to like this.’

Of course, the dog was an issue. Dan would be gone for ten days, and old Bridie next door who opened the back door for McCulloch if he was stuck in the house all day couldn’t be asked to feed him, walk him and keep him company for this length of time. Or rather, she could be asked, but she would never agree, not with her four cats and a houseful of demanding orchids. His parents might once have taken him, but not now, not with Bill the way he was. He couldn’t ask Duncan, because McCulloch would certainly die from neglect. He almost asked Terri Nichols, because she was so grateful to him for accepting the gig, and she had no idea, none at all, that she’d articulated and facilitated his greatest desire before he’d even had the idea himself. It was so outrageous, so bold, and yet utterly legitimate. She didn’t bat an eyelid at extending the trip for him – shame to go all that way and not have a mooch around, she said – and this timescale gave Dan the freedom to fly from Hong Kong to Adelaide, before coming back to pick up his return flight. If Alison turned out not to be there, well … No, he thought; she had to be there. She would be there.

Anyway, he didn’t have to ask Terri to take the dog in the end, because he suddenly remembered dear old Jim on Veronica Ann: dear, lonely old Jim. He’d met McCulloch once before, must be ten years ago now, when Dan and Alex had had a weekend in London to watch Wednesday v. Crystal Palace, but Katelin had made them take the dog. They’d left him all day with Jim, and by the time they got back from Selhurst Park, McCulloch was sitting on the prow of the boat with a navy-blue bandana round his throat. ‘Ship’s mascot,’ Jim had said. ‘Splendid little chap. Bring him to me any time you like, Dan, any time you like.’