‘He’s old school. Too old to change his ways, he says. I think we’re his only clients these days.’

Conor raised the knocker and let it fall and they waited until the door was thrown open with gusto.

‘Conor. Good man, good to see you. And who’s this with you?’

‘This is Hannah.’

Patrick held out a plump hand and shook Hannah’s enthusiastically as she tried hard not to stare at the bright-orange tie decorated with parrots that he wore with a blue and cream checked shirt under a Harris tweed three-piece suit.

‘Come in, come in.’ He had one of those loud, booming voices that came straight from the diaphragm, like some aging actor. ‘My housekeeper’s just made a big pot of coffee.’

Without waiting for them to follow, he headed straight across the big bright black and white tiled hall to a heavy, panelled wood door on the far side.

Glancing quickly at Conor, Hannah followed him into what turned out to be a rather grandly appointed study. Inside was a vast leather-covered desk with two Chesterfield chairs in front of it and a button-backed swivel chair on the other side. It felt a bit like stepping back in time or into a stately home, thought Hannah, gazing at the Adam-style white fireplace on the opposite wall and the leather-bound books with gilt titles lining a whole wall of bookshelves. The small TV just on the corner of the desk was slightly incongruous, especially as it was relaying racing commentary, with the commentator talking as fast as the thunder of the hooves on the grass.

‘And Double Trouble is coming up fast on the outside. Leggy Lady is edging up. Grand Design is floundering and it looks as if he’s going to do— And Green Swan is closing the gap. Grand Design is starting to fade and it’s Leggy Lady, Leggy Lady with one furlong to go and it’s Leggy Lady. Leggy Lady wins!’

‘Blast it,’ said Patrick. ‘I shoulda put a bet on – she was fourteen to one.’ He stood scowling in petulant disbelief for a moment before pulling out a notebook and a small pencil to scribble on one of the pages. Then, almost as if he’d forgotten they were there, he shook his head and leaned forward to turn up the volume on the television.

Connor gave Hannah a long-suffering grimace, sat down in one of the Chesterfields and invited her to do the same.

‘Yes, yes, sit down,’ said Patrick.

With half on eye on the TV, he pulled forward a manilla folder, opened it, frowned, and then pulled a second one out from under the first, muttering, ‘Ah, here it is.’

He shuffled through the papers inside and then shut the second folder, huffing with exasperation. Standing up, he heaved his bulky body towards a filing cabinet and began rifling through one of the drawers, muttering to himself.