She shrugs nonchalantly. ‘Yeah, well, the parentals are pleased.’ Taking her eyes off the pan, she shoots me a sideways look. I can tell she’s completely delighted, but is desperately playing it cool.

‘Have you told Will?’

She gives a little nod. ‘He’s stoked for me.’

‘So you two are still—’ I break off as Maya rolls her eyes at me.

‘We’re just friends, that’s all.’

Now it’s my turn to roll my eyes. ‘OK, whatever you say.’

‘Is that for me?’

Ben reappears from fixing the light switch in the bathroom, sniffing the air like a scent-hound.

‘I thought you were working on the village hall,’ says Maya, trying to barricade the frying pan as he makes a beeline for it.

‘I am.’

‘Ben popped round to do some snagging,’ I explain.

She starts laughing. ‘Excuse me?’

‘That’s with an s, not a sh,’ says Ben, looking amused.

For the second time that day I feel my cheeks redden and shoot Maya a look, but she responds with one of her wide-eyed, innocent ones and hands Ben the toasted sandwich.

‘Here you go – I’m not that hungry any more.’ Smiling serenely, she grabs her Diet Coke and goes outside into the garden to join Valentine and Stanley.

Leaving me alone with Ben, feeling oddly agitated.

‘Alone at last,’ he jokes, and I feel myself relax a bit.

‘Yes, it’s a bit mad, isn’t it? I didn’t expect everyone to show up at once.’

Grabbing a sponge, I begin wiping down surfaces, while Ben makes a start on the kitchen drawers. From the garden I hear laughter and see Valentine with Maya and Stanley. He’s telling some story and gesticulating wildly. I think back to the first day I saw him, sitting in the window of his bungalow. He’s unrecognizable now as that lonely old man. Stanley is too.

I watch Stanley now, giggling, his freckled face creased up, and remember the little boy who was too scared to come out from behind the garden gate. While Maya, so angry and misunderstood, is lying chilled out on the grass, laughing and listening and texting all at once. I still don’t know how she does that.

And then of course there’s Harry – in the middle of it all in his shiny fur coat, panting in the hot September sunshine, but refusing to move into the shade; pink tongue hanging out, bright eyes constantly on the lookout for the squirrel, ears continually cocked, and ready for tickles. Who would have thought that the old, scared bundle of scruff I first met in the rescue shelter could change everyone’s lives, mine included.

I’m distracted by the sound of the radio and turn back to look across at Ben. It’s actually rather nice to have him back, pottering around the house with his screwdriver and spirit level. I realize I’ve missed his presence, if not the mouldy teabags. Even his incessant whistling along to the radio, which he promptly retunes from Classic FM.