‘Of course you do,’ he agrees, ‘but it’s still wise to be cautious about buying. Amy’s right, there’s almost certain to be something you can rent for a few months.’

He drops Amy off in Bridgetown, refusing her suggestion to go in and say hello to Charley.

‘Maybe when we pick you up,’ he says. ‘We don’t want to be late.’

It’s beginning to get dark as they turn into the lower drive that leads on to the Dartington Hall estate. Cara is enchanted by the beautiful medieval hall and its courtyard, and by the theatre with the café built into the gatehouse and surrounding walls.

‘Let’s order our drinks,’ says Jack, ‘and then they’ll be ready for us at the interval.’

He’s pleased by Cara’s delight in everything, glad that he invited her to come with him. They go into the small cinema, find their seats, and he hands her the single sheet that takes the place of a programme and describes the performance that will be streamed live from the Metropolitan Opera House in New York. She smiles at him and he grins back at her.

‘Not quite as good as the real thing,’ he says, unable to shake off this slight sense of inferiority – which is rather foreign to him – but hoping that she’ll really enjoy it.

‘It’s great,’ she says. ‘It’s so intimate. Rather like being in someone’s private cinema. And wonderful to be able to see first-class productions.’

They begin to talk about other operas that will be coming during this autumn season and Jack is aware of an invading sense of pleasure; of the prospect of a new beginning. The lights dim and they sit back in their seats, alert with happy anticipation.

As they come out into the darkness, Cara pauses for a moment under the stone archway to look at the great medieval hall set in its courtyard of buildings. Lights shine from the mullioned windows; shadows slant across the lawn. It’s like a Cambridge college.

‘Magical,’ she says. ‘I must come and see it in daylight.’

‘You must,’ agrees Jack, as they walk together to the car park. ‘The gardens are at their best in the spring but it’s always worth a visit.’

He takes his phone from his pocket and switches it on.

‘I’ll just tell Amy we’re on our way,’ he says, but immediately a message pings in and he pauses to read it. ‘Oh, right. Amy’s decided to stay the night with Charley. Probably tomorrow as well. She’ll bring her home on Saturday.’

He taps out a message and then puts his phone back in his pocket.

‘That’s rather nice,’ Cara says. ‘I like impromptu things, don’t you? They often work so much better than pre-arranged events. There’s no time to get expectation all worked up so there’s less chance of failure.’