They covered Oliver’s birthplace, Brighton, and how he’d met Carolyn, university, and were just moving on to why they’d decided to move back to the coast when Carolyn – still busy at the oven – spoke again.

‘Evie? Could you clear some space on the table for me? And load up the dishwasher.’

‘How did you and Chris meet?’ Oliver asked as Evie began to clear their plates.

‘The gallery,’ said Nell. ‘I took some of my early stuff in, hoping he’d buy it and . . .’ She hesitated. ‘We sort of went on from there.’

‘Evie gave me a present,’ said Maude, extending her wrist. ‘It’s for luck.’

‘Do you need luck?’ Oliver asked.

‘Every little helps,’ said Evie. She glanced behind Nell, at her mother, then leant over the table, reaching for the empty dishes. ‘I wanted to study Design Technology at school,’ said Evie, ‘But – I couldn’t, you know, fit it in with everything else.’

‘Oh,’ said Nell.

‘I’m doing Geography instead.’

‘Far more sensible,’ said Carolyn as Evie took the dishes to the sink.

‘Did you hear about our shoe?’ Maude asked. ‘It was hidden in the wall.’

‘I did indeed,’ said Oliver, ‘it all sounds highly intriguing. What will you do with it?’

‘I wanted to keep it, but we’re not allowed.’

‘It isn’t ours,’ Nell said.

‘I knew a bloke who once found a dead cat in his house.’

‘Dad. No,’ said Evie, sliding back into her seat. ‘He tells such tall tales.’

‘Up on Henrietta Street; it was under the floorboards, all grey and stiff, with a big grin on its face. Mummified,’ said Oliver.

‘Cool,’ said Maude. ‘What did he do with it?’

‘Oliver, please. We’re eating,’ said Carolyn.

‘But really, what?’ said Maude.

‘He put it back,’ said Oliver.

Maude grinned. ‘Which house is it in?’

‘Oliver.’

Oliver raised his glass to Maude and winked.

Carolyn began to heap spoonfuls of risotto onto dinner plates. ‘They’ve done a lovely job with Elder House, from what I’ve seen.’ She set the plates in front of Nell and Maude. ‘Very stylish.’

‘Who did?’ Nell asked as she inspected her meal, trying to remember which types of seafood she should be wary of. ‘I mean, who owns it?’

‘Actually, I’m not sure. It was a holiday place when we bought here, a second home, and that was – two years ago?’

‘Three,’ said Oliver.

‘Not that anyone seemed to use it very much. And then last year it changed hands – that was when they did it out again. It never seemed to actually be let out to anyone.’ She served Evie and Oliver, then sat at the table, her own portion of food noticeably smaller than everyone else’s.

‘It’s a shame,’ said Oliver. ‘I sometimes think we should never have—’

‘They’re not local, are they?’ Carolyn went on. ‘The new owners.’