Fiona’s words came back to her then, as she sorted dirty cutlery into the holder; the sharp blast of contempt in her voice when she’d given her the warning. Was it jealousy, or was there something about James that Sara didn’t yet understand? So many questions and uncertainties. At least the weekend would give her a chance to get some clarification and assess the situation, then she could decide what to do for the best. No action without information. She’d learnt that on her degree course. Do the research. The weekend wasn’t a blissful retreat with a lonely friend. It was business. She slammed the door of the dishwasher shut. That felt better.

Matt finished his beer, got another out of the fridge while Sara wiped the worktops. She was stunned by her reasoning, testing out whether it changed anything about the way she felt. James knew she was fundamentally honest, knew her theft had been for Matt and her family, a desperate act when she wasn’t thinking straight. He’d acted out of kindness, wanting to help. Perhaps getting her to pay back the debt with nothing but her company was his way of making her feel better about his generosity.

Matt’s voice made her jump out of her thoughts and back into the room.

‘You’re not listening, are you? Did you even hear what I said when I came in just now?’

She stared at him blankly, stopped wiping and put the cloth back on the sink. ‘Sorry, I’ve got a lot on my mind.’

‘I’ve had a breakthrough.’ There was a smug expression on his face now, his earlier frustration apparently forgotten. He was on his third beer, she noticed, the two empties standing together on the worktop, which probably had something to do with the mellowing of his mood. His smile was a little bleary, his body swaying like a tree in the wind. He’s drunk, she realised, remembering that he’d taken a six-pack of beer into his office earlier. He reached into the fridge, opened another bottle and held it out to her. ‘Celebrate with me.’

She shook her head, still annoyed with him and confused by her thoughts about James. ‘No thanks, I’m off to bed as soon as I’ve finished tidying up.’ She cracked a brittle smile, waiting for him to explain what he was talking about.

He frowned, and tried to put the bottle back on the worktop, but got it wrong and banged it down hard, sending a spurt of beer over the floor. ‘Oops.’ He chuckled. ‘I’ll just have to drink it myself then. Reckon I deserve a celebration.’ He leant back against the worktop, legs crossed at the ankles. ‘I’ve just cracked the code,’ he slurred. ‘Nobody will be able to find it. Honestly, it’s pretty devious, even if I do say so myself.’