No? That seemed unlikely. But Nick supposed there was an outside chance it would at least be interesting. Perhaps it was something Caldwell had felt unable to disclose while Caro was alive. Nick couldn’t help being curious. Caldwell had undeniably known his father, after all. They’d lived under the same roof for a year. ‘Monday it is, then. Shall we say four o’clock?’

‘Yes. Let’s say that. What’s your address?’

After the call had ended, Nick leant back in the chair and thought about the father he’d never known. According to Caro, she’d still been confused about her sexuality during her time at university. Geoff Nolan had inadvertently helped her decide that men weren’t for her. He’d always been a hopeless case, heading for early burn-out and wanting to know nothing – absolutely nothing – about his son. So why should Nick want to know anything about him?

There was no good reason. He pulled out from one of the desk drawers the old cigar box in which he kept assorted mementos of his childhood, including that solitary creased photograph of Geoff Nolan, aged twenty-one or so, sitting astride his motorbike at a kerbside and looking up at a first-floor window where Caro, presumably, was poised with the camera. He was in black biking leathers, one hand resting on a crash helmet, propped on the fuel tank, while his other hand was raised in a strangely lordly greeting. Long dark hair flopped over his forehead. His smile was somehow not genuine. It seemed calculated to mock something or someone, possibly himself.

Nick wouldn’t have wanted to admit how often he’d looked at that photograph when he was younger, trying to draw some clues to his father’s personality from his posture and expression. But there were none to be found. It was just a snapshot of a headstrong young man who’d had no idea he wasn’t going to see out his twenties. It was just a picture. Geoff Nolan wasn’t really there. He never had been.

Nick put the photograph back and replaced the box at the back of the drawer. Then he heard a noise downstairs – Kate’s key turning in the front door lock. On a sudden impulse, he picked up the phone and deleted Caldwell’s message.

‘Darling?’ came Kate’s voice from below.

‘Up here,’ he shouted in reply.

‘Did you remember the cheese?’

‘I remembered.’ Caldwell’s message was gone now. Removed from the log. Kate would be in Tuscany all next week. There was no need for her to worry about what Nick was or wasn’t going to learn from the guy. He’d tell her when she got back – if there was anything to tell.

‘There’s a bottle of red wine down here I’m tempted to open.’ She was in the kitchen now.