He’d brought Jack with him, who was going to do some work in the garden.

‘Thanks for this.’ Nicole let him in.

‘No worries.’

Danny set to work in silence. His first task was to stabilise the chimney and flue. ‘No point restoring this beautiful old girl,’ he stroked the mantle, ‘and having the lot come down on her.’

As he worked away, Nicole made a start on stripping the master bedroom’s wallpaper. The old glue was stubborn to remove and it took her quite a while to find a good rhythm, and then once she did, she’d lose it again, battling with the old paper. If only stripping the wallpaper was all that was necessary. Her new best friend, Google, had given her detailed instructions on the washing and preparing of the walls after the paper had been removed before you even thought about slapping on some paint. She really wasn’t looking forward to those steps.

As the afternoon sun began its slow descent, Nicole’s shoulders started to ache. Stripping wallpaper was nowhere near as fun as it sounded. And it hadn’t sounded like much fun. She decided there and then that she would never hang wallpaper anywhere, so no one coming after her would ever have to spend four hours trying to remove it from two walls.

‘Excuse me, Nicole.’ Danny stood in the bedroom doorway. ‘I think I might call it a day.’

Nicole put down her scraper. ‘Me too. Can I offer you a tea or coffee before you go? Maybe some water?’ They’d worked all afternoon without a break.

He accepted a glass of cold water and they sat at the Formica dining table in the kitchen in awkward silence.

‘So.’ Nicole needed to say something. Anything. ‘How do you know so much about repairing fireplaces?’

‘Because of my dad, actually. It was a hobby of his back in England.’

Nicole thought she’d detected a slight accent. ‘You’re from England?’

Danny nodded. ‘My family moved here when I was sixteen. My parents have gone back now, though.’

‘But you stayed?’

‘Yep.’

She waited for him to elaborate, but he wasn’t forthcoming. She studied his face, trying to get a read on him. His eyes were soft, kind, but carried in them a touch of sadness.

‘And you’re a writer?’ he asked, and Nicole got the distinct impression he was changing the subject.

‘Yes.’

‘Mandy told me.’ He smiled. ‘She was pretty excited about having a real writer among us.’

‘And are you a reader?’

He shook his head. ‘Not like Mandy. History and architecture are more my thing.’

‘Have you ever tried historical fiction? Something like Pillars of the Earth?’

‘I’ll look it up,’ he said, and smiled.

‘Anyone home?’ Mandy’s light timbre rang through the cottage.

Nicole got up to let her in, but she was already walking down the hall.