Pearly, however, was more impressed than he’d expected. Houses were his business, and he was a shrewd judge. The house had location, view, comfort and style. So much glass, so much light, such a smooth indoor/outdoor flow from two sides, each with its own character and purpose. And inconspicuous solar panels so that the place was largely self-sufficient in terms of power.

There were six dinner guests, and one of the other couples had also not visited before. Alistair Sissonses took the four of them on an informal tour of the house. That’s what rich people in fine houses do, and the rooms had been primped in expectation of a viewing. Helen would later tell Pearly that she thought the expensive furniture too classical to quite fit within such a modern home, but it was without question a fine place. One of the half-dozen really outstanding homes in town, Pearly decided. The bathroom fittings were Swedish, those of the kitchen, German. The cream carpet had just that balance between firmness and submission that a good underlay ensures. From habit, Pearly made a silent evaluation as they went through the house.

The Sissonses’ place also bore a resemblance to a gallery. Alistair’s paintings hung everywhere, mostly street scenes depicting clowns and buskers, site labourers and skate-boarders, although along the sweeping and upward curve of the stairway was what he called his Hippocratic series, all images from within hospital wards and operating theatres. Alistair termed his work gouaches rather than watercolours. Pearly had never heard the term before and found it unpronounceable. ‘Watercolours are watercolours, aren’t they?’ he muttered to Helen as they ascended.

‘You’re a nurse,’ their host said to Helen. ‘You’ll be right at home with these.’

‘Very realistic,’ she said.

‘I had a knee replacement in Christchurch, and that set off the idea of the series. The staff at Highgate were very caring, and I donated one of the larger paintings to the hospital. These paintings haven’t been back up long. They were part of a themed exhibition in Palmerston North and then Tauranga.’

‘That must have been pleasing,’ said Helen.

‘One of these days I might even be invited to exhibit in a main gallery in Auckland or Christchurch,’ Alistair added self-deprecatingly.

During the meal Pearly ate cautiously, aware of his tongue, fearful of further injury. Eight intelligent people from a variety of occupations and backgrounds ensured the evening didn’t flag. Rachel and Alistair were practised hosts, drawing out the views of the other couples rather than dominating the discussion with talk of their own lives. Pearly, too, although given the opportunity to ride his hobby horses, was aware enough to limit himself and turn the talk towards others at the table. He paid particular attention to the wives, for Helen had on occasion pointed out to him an inclination to favour men in conversation.