Suddenly she remembers why Hal has risen and gone quietly away and she sits up, pushing back the duvet and swinging her legs out of bed. She pushes her feet into slippers, then, pulling on her dressing gown, she goes out, along the passage and down the stairs. In the kitchen, Hal is sitting at the table, turned sideways, talking to Honey, whose tail is beating against the table leg.

Fliss smiles to see them and Honey immediately scouts around for the ancient battered teddy, which is her constant companion, and hurries to bring it to Fliss.

‘Good girl,’ says Fliss, stroking the smooth, warm head. ‘Good girl. Is that for me?’

‘You know it isn’t,’ says Hal, getting up and refilling the kettle. ‘She’s just showing it to you.’

Fliss pretends to take the toy, to shake it free, but Honey grips on, tail wagging, enjoying the game.

‘Another good night?’ asks Fliss. ‘No problems?’

‘Good as gold,’ replies Hal. ‘We’ve struck lucky. She doesn’t chew things she shouldn’t and there are no accidents. I’ve let her out for a pee and she seems very happy.’

‘She’s been used to walks in the park, they told me,’ Fliss says, ‘but not much more. With her owner being elderly she’s been fairly restricted. It will be good to show her some freedom. We’ll take her up on the moor. She needs to become a country dog.’

Hal passes her some coffee and Honey goes to her basket to check out her other toys.

‘Do you remember Mrs Pooter?’ asks Fliss suddenly. ‘And Mugwump?’

Hal laughs. ‘I never did know why we let my crazy sister name the dogs.’

‘She loved them so much. And she was always spot on. She’s going to love Honey.’

‘Thank God she’s got a name already,’ says Hal. ‘Kit’s a nutter.’

‘But such a nice nutter,’ says Fliss. ‘So do you think Honey’s ready for Dartmoor? Nobody knows what she’ll be like with stock. It’ll be interesting to see how she behaves when she sees her first sheep or a pony.’

‘She’s been very well trained,’ says Hal, ‘but she’s a city dog and I’m not taking any chances. We’ll keep her on a lead until we’re totally sure. By the way, I had a text from Sam last night. I’ve just seen it. He’s asking if he and Cara can come for lunch today. Apparently Freya has gone into labour and Max has rushed off to Oxford again.’

‘Oh, good grief! Poor Max. It’s all go, isn’t it? I hope Freya’s OK. Yes, of course they can come. That would be great. Perhaps we can all take Honey out afterwards.’