He took another gulp of the beer. ‘Nah. Couldn’t concentrate. Locked up and came home. I’m going to drink a six-pack, watch shit TV and get an early night. How long is Gemma going to be with you?’

‘A day or two more, she thinks. Then her boss will make her go back.’

‘I think you should come and stay with me after that.’

He heard her sigh. ‘Pete, thanks, but I don’t want to. I’m safe in the cottage, I’m sure. I mean, I’ve got my own twenty-four/seven security; how many people have that in their house?’

Pete snorted. ‘What, that ancient tubby guy we met – the one who wheezes when he walks? I’m not sure that he counts as a crack security team. If someone came to your door, and he – what’s his name?’

‘There’s two main ones. That was Leonard, on nights. George is the daytime one.’

‘Leonard, then. He could be miles away in the house if something happened in your cottage! I’ve bought you a couple more bolts, I’ll come and put them on tomorrow.’

‘Oh Pete. Thanks. But please stop worrying; there’s really no point. When Gemma goes, I’ll come and stay for a few days if it makes you feel better, but I can’t live on your boat. It’s far too small, and we’d drive each other crazy. Anyway listen, I have to go, a coach party’s just come in.’

Pete heard an increased humming in the background, the chatter of voices in an unfamiliar language. ‘OK, sis. Love you. I’ll call you later.’

‘OK. Love you too.’

By 9.00 p.m. there were six empty beer bottles lined up neatly on the rug next to the coffee table. Pete couldn’t be bothered to move them into the recycling box, but even in his inebriated state, didn’t like the sight of them scattered haphazardly. He’d only got up to pee and make himself a toasted sandwich. He was now lying back on the sofa, contemplating the bottle of Glenfiddich on a shelf in the galley.

When he closed his eyes he saw the empty spaces where the shiny mother-of-pearl trees were meant to go on the unfinished chest. They were nagging at him – but not enough to make him want to sober up and get back to work. The trees could wait. Drinking and doing nothing couldn’t.

Darkness seemed to have fallen fast on the river, unless he’d nodded off for a while. He must have done, because his heart was hammering, and he recalled a dream in which he’d seen Meredith darting between creamy-white branches, vanishing into the velvety blackness, leaving just a pearlescent glimmer behind her.