‘Good idea. I’m feeling really tired. If we eat an apple each for dessert, it’s just about a healthy meal.’

She fell asleep afterwards on the sofa with half her second glass of wine still unfinished on the low table beside her.

He sat watching her for a while. Sometimes he couldn’t believe they’d found one another, given that she’d spent most of her life in Australia. Sometimes he couldn’t believe his luck about inheriting the house, either. But he valued her far more than bricks and mortar, even his beloved Dennings.

Life took things and people you loved away from you, sometimes with brutal abruptness. But it could give you other things and people as well, almost as if offering compensation.

One person couldn’t replace another, but he’d been incredibly lucky to have two very special women to love.

When Angus woke in the morning it was nearly ten o’clock and he was alone in the big, rumpled bed. Amazed at how long he’d slept, he dragged on some clothes and went down to the kitchen, where Nell was sitting at the table, sipping a cup of coffee and staring into space.

‘You should have woken me.’

‘Why? You must have needed the extra sleep. Anyway, I haven’t been up long myself.’

He yawned and stretched, then twisted his head to look at the pad on the table beside her tablet. ‘What’s that?’

‘I’m making a list of galleries to ask about artists. Or else we can simply place an advert, both online and in newspapers, and see who contacts us.’

‘Talk about mixing technologies. Why didn’t you do that on your tablet?’

‘I find it easier to scribble ideas down in between doing other things.’

He considered the list for a moment, head to one side. ‘I’d prefer to place an advert than consult galleries. There’d be more chance of variety of artistic medium that way and we could maybe find a couple of artists who’re just starting up.’

‘They won’t be able to afford to pay rent.’

‘I was wondering if we should offer six-month rent-free residencies to give them a start. It might garner us some useful PR as well.’

She pursed her lips, then nodded. ‘Good idea.’

After pinching a piece of her toast and crunching it happily, he added, ‘I don’t want to offer our houses only to people who do oil paintings, or even watercolours. And I don’t want locals coming to live here, either, but an eclectic mix of people from all over the country. In fact, let’s agree to have only one of each type of artist in our row of shop-houses.’

‘Good idea. We’ll draft an advert as soon as you’ve finished eating.’

But after two weeks without any calls for help, that was the moment his phone let out the sound of the ‘Hallelujah Chorus’, which signalled someone needing his services. As usual, he answered that particular sound at once.

Nell watched him, seeing the brisk businessman take over from the rather absent-minded man she found so endearing. He started firing questions, then grabbed her pad, turned to the next page and began taking notes.