They drove to five homes, walked around the outside of three whose owners, Pearly knew, wouldn’t mind, stood by the gate of the other two so that she could form an impression. He felt again an oddly strong pleasure in her company. She was more at ease now with the separation from her husband and took a renewed interest in planning a future. She told Pearly that she’d come through the worst of it, that she and her ex had been able to agree on things more readily than she’d feared. ‘And Michael seems settled enough at school and still goes round often to see his dad. A lot of stuff seems to wash off young people, don’t you think?’

They were standing on the small deck of the house in Windsor Street and looking through the french doors to the living room. Pearly knew the owners both worked and were happy for him to walk clients around the place. He and Charlotte had been there earlier and returned because of all the houses she liked it best. It seemed quite a natural environment in which to talk of Charlotte’s hopes and plans. Natural, too, that Pearly should be positive and supportive. ‘Why don’t I call them right now,’ he said, ‘and see about going through?’ And he did, arranged a viewing for lunchtime the next day, when Charlotte could most conveniently leave the florist shop. ‘They said if you really wanted to go through today we could pick up a key, but this way gives them a chance to have things as they want them. A tidy-up. I wouldn’t want folk coming through my place unexpectedly. A home is very personal.’

‘That’s fair enough,’ agreed Charlotte.

‘I see into people’s lives almost every day. You’d be amazed at some of the things. Some places are an open book, others you can’t read.’

‘And what does your experienced eye read in here?’ she said, with just a friendly edge of deflation. They had their backs to the autumn sun, which lit the room before them. A dark leather suite, creased by accustomed posture, newspaper and reading glasses on one of the chairs, a low brass-topped table that bore small glass ornaments, their bright colours catching the sunlight. A new woodburner set into what had been an open fireplace. A coffee mug on the windowsill.

‘No children at home any more,’ Pearly said. ‘A couple who seek comfort rather than fashion and who have more money now than ever before because they’re both working.’

‘Brilliant, Sherlock, but you knew all that because you’ve met them. You’ve talked to them about moving.’