‘Absolutely.’ For no reason except embarrassment, Pearly held his hands out palm uppermost for a moment. As if the charge were theft, and he wanted to show he held nothing.

‘Business friends only, okay?’ Charlotte said.

‘Absolutely,’ said Pearly. They stood awkwardly facing each other for a moment, then he continued. ‘I just want things to work out for you. I apologise if I was out of order.’

‘We’ll forget it happened,’ she said. ‘Maybe I overreacted. It’s just guys lately and everything. Let’s get on with buying this damn house.’

They went outside, and felt more comfortable there. They had a look at the garage and talked about making the offer, then Charlotte had to get back to her work. ‘I’ll let you know as soon as I hear back from them,’ Pearly said. He watched her drive away and remonstrated with himself as he went to his car. ‘Made a fool of yourself, Pearly. A real fool. You need to watch yourself.’ He wondered, though, whether Charlotte’s reaction would have been the same if he’d been twenty years younger. ‘It’s a lesson,’ he told himself. A simple hug on the spur of the moment: it wasn’t much, and Pearly thought her reaction out of proportion. But perhaps he needed to watch his step. Reputation was so important in business.

He was successful with Charlotte’s offer; the vendors even agreed to leave two unwanted beds, which meant a considerable saving for her. Pearly rang her with the good news the next evening, and neither of them made any reference to what had happened at the house. Lunchtime Monday she came to Rawleigh and Gates to settle the paperwork, and Pearly rang the bank manager to vouch for her as he’d promised. Charlotte thanked him for all his help, and they shook hands at the door of his office before she left. ‘I really feel I’m getting things back on track again,’ she said. ‘Having a place of your own is just so reassuring, and I never felt really settled just renting. Now it’s as if I’m really moving on.’

‘I’m glad. I think it’s a good buy and you’ll be happy there. I’ll give you a ring in a couple of days to tidy up the last things.’ Pearly watched her go. He hoped things would work out for her. He imagined briefly what it would have been like to lie with her on the leather sofa of the Windsor Street house. Sometimes he found it hard to remember that he was a sixty-four-year-old married man with a position of civic responsibility. Sometimes the old Pearly, who was the young Pearly, came briefly to the fore of consciousness with a natural sense of life’s priorities quite different from those he held to in the present.