‘But isn’t it on the market? We went and looked at it.’ Sophia stood back and stared at Grace, her brow furrowed. ‘It’s out of our league. And it’s being sold at auction so the agent must be confident of getting a lot.’

Grace frowned. ‘Wait. You mean my old place in Paddo? The one you came to for parties? It’s still rented. Lawrence said we couldn’t afford to break the lease to get the tenants out. That’s why I’m at Mum’s and he’s staying in a hotel near his office for most of the week.’

‘Sorry, Gracie, I’m confused. We’re hoping to buy, so when we saw your old flat advertised we went over.’

‘Are you sure? You’re certain it’s the same place?’

Sophia gave an uncomfortable laugh. ‘Of course. We went there a few times, remember . . .? But maybe I’ve got it all wrong. You would know!’ She gave her head a little shake. ‘Anyway, I’ve got to dash – I hope the Lifesaving campaign goes well.’

‘Thanks, Soph, but it’s not a big deal really. Maybe you and I can work together again soon. You know you’re always my first choice,’ said Grace hastily.

‘Thanks, Grace. Let’s catch up soon – I’ll give you a call.’ She gave Grace a quick hug and headed down the street.

Grace watched her go. Then hailed a taxi. ‘Paddington, please.’

*

Grace loved the streets of elegant terrace houses with their iron-lacework balconies and tiny formal front gardens. She’d enjoyed living there when she was single and even more so when Lawrence moved in and they’d made her little place their home. The ground-floor flat opened onto a small garden at the back. Grace was always grateful to her darling nan who’d left it to her in her will.

She paid the taxi and got out. Then stopped, in shock.

Facing her was a large real estate sign. Flat For Sale.

It was the photo on the board that stunned her. There was no mistaking the bi-fold doors of the sitting room opening onto the patio and garden. There were the hydrangeas her grandmother had planted.

She glanced at the buzzers by the front door. As she wondered if she should press the ground-floor bell, the door opened and a man came out and smiled. ‘Hi, can I help?’

‘I was looking for Mr and Mrs Nieve. They live in the ground-floor flat.’

‘Sorry. I don’t know them. I just moved in three weeks ago to the top flat. The real estate agent might have their phone number, though. He told me he was helping them find somewhere to move to when their flat went on the market.’ He looked around and said, ‘It’s a great area. It’ll be snapped up pretty fast.’

‘This . . . the ground-floor apartment? It’s not for sale!’ Grace cried in shock.

He gave her a strange look. ‘Sorry I can’t be more help.’ He went past her, turning at the little front gate and adding over his shoulder, ‘The real estate agents are Sanctuary Homes, on High Street.’