Damien and Bruce were Thea’s brother and brother-in-law respectively. Damien was experiencing parenthood for the first time in his late forties. The resulting anxiety was bordering on the pathological. One of Drew’s many virtues was that he kept any tendency to worry under strict control. ‘My father worried enough for us all, when I was small,’ he said. ‘I grew up determined not to go the same way. Other people’s neuroses are such a blight. I wouldn’t inflict that on anybody who chose to live with me.’

Now he said, ‘If I get like Bruce or Damien, you have my permission to shoot me.’ This was followed by a sigh, which Thea chose to ignore.

‘That’s more like it,’ she said. ‘So stop agonising about the kids, okay? And don’t let them bully you. A bit 15of boredom will do them good. Stephanie’s quite happy with all her YouTube stuff, and Tim’s got that canal map to finish. Just leave them to get on with it.’

Drew sighed again at this brisk advice, but made no further objections.

The logistics of getting to Barnsley had not been considered until the last minute. The Slocombes only had one car and there was no question of Thea taking that. ‘I can drive you there,’ said Drew. ‘But then you’ll be stranded without any transport.’

‘I don’t suppose that matters,’ she said doubtfully. ‘I expect there’s a bus into Cirencester, so I can go and do some shopping. And I can walk to Bibury and other places. There’s a trout farm – I can live on fish, if necessary.’

‘You can order food online with your phone,’ said Stephanie, as if delivering a piece of wholly new information. ‘And a person brings it to your door in a van.’

Thea groaned. ‘That sounds terrible,’ she said. ‘Probably more hassle than finding a convenient bus.’

Drew was in complete agreement with this. ‘Take some provisions, then. Tea and coffee, beans and bread. Is there a freezer at the house?’

‘I don’t think so. The kitchen’s being gutted. I can just about boil a kettle, and I think there’s a microwave.’

‘Can you microwave trout?’

‘Probably,’ she said.

Stephanie, Tim and Hepzibah went with them on the Saturday morning, the car full of Thea’s luggage. 16Clothes, books, her laptop (although she had forgotten to ask whether there would be Wi-Fi at the house and it seemed unlikely), a sketchpad and several coloured pencils, the large-scale Ordnance Survey map, boots, phone, some DVDs – there was a small television and DVD player provided – and a grubby piece of needlepoint that she had started years ago and never finished. It had been sitting patiently in her house in Witney, which was now sold and forgotten. She had wanted to throw the needlework away, but Drew wouldn’t let her. ‘It’ll be lovely when it’s finished,’ he assured her. The picture was far from the usual cottage with garden and little stream: instead it depicted an urban scene with a crane, several high-rise blocks and cars in the foreground. Her first husband Carl had bought it for her as a joke, having found it in a charity shop, wool and needles included.