A southerly change came the next day: cloud and only 12 degrees. The western hills were obscured, and in the east the lacklustre sea heaved uneasily. But Pearly was cheerful when he drove to meet Charlotte at the Windsor Street house after a morning spent at council. He hoped she would like the place and that he could assist her purchase of it. He wanted to see her with a house of her own again as a sign that her life was on track. He let himself in and went through the house while he waited for Charlotte. The three bedrooms were all small, the bathroom too, but at some time the kitchen and living room had been combined to make a pleasing space, and the french doors and decking added. The house had good bones, as Pearly could tell even without reference to the builder’s report. It was cold, Pearly decided as he sat in one of the dark leather armchairs, but if the owners had been home for the day the woodburner would have easily fixed that. A pity the windows weren’t larger.

By the time Charlotte arrived, he’d already checked to see if there was a storage place for wood, and found just a pile behind the garage beneath a blue cover weighted with a metal bin lid. Charlotte apologised for being late, and they went through the house together. It was tidy and clean; Charlotte was pleased with it despite the chill, and they stood together in the fitful sun by the french doors while Pearly summarised the home’s advantages. ‘I could live here,’ she said, as a statement to herself as well as Pearly. ‘I could definitely live here. There’s plenty of room for just Michael and me, and it’s not that far from the school.’

‘I think they’d seriously consider an offer somewhere around your limit,’ said Pearly. ‘I could vouch for you at the bank if that would help. Given the market, I think it’s a sound proposition.’

‘Let’s make an offer then.’

The decision made her happy, excited, and she smiled up at Pearly so that it seemed natural to him to give her a hug. He didn’t kiss her but tightened his arms slightly so that her jacket scrunched.

‘Stop it,’ she said and stepped back when he dropped his hands.

‘Sorry.’

‘What the hell do you think you’re doing?’

‘I’m sorry,’ said Pearly, genuinely surprised. ‘I’m just pleased you like the place. That’s all.’

‘Since my marriage broke up, every other guy’s been hitting on me. I get sick of it. Why is it men think life’s like some French movie?’

‘I’m not, though. Really it’s not like that,’ said Pearly weakly.

‘I’m not interested. Unless you understand that we don’t go any further with this.’