Nina had further plans: help organize family holidays, team up with a local horse-riding business and a nearby canoeing club, sell artwork (prints and pottery) at local markets. She was so utterly determined to be there for her children. Ever since Felix, her eldest—my godson—started primary school, she worked hard to ensure she could control her own working hours. Life is cruel.

However, my dreams aren’t totally dissimilar to hers: I’d like to sell more prints. I could learn to enjoy horse riding, for the children’s sake. There’s no harm in being flexible, I will alter my future plans so they’re more in tune with Nina’s.

“Hello?”

I stop. Nina’s mother is at the bottom of the stairs looking up.

My brain kicks in. “Hi, Deborah. Stuart asked me to take the children to school. Felix mentioned a cuddly toy he’d lost, I thought I’d search his room and leave it on his bed for when they get home.”

“I got such a fright. Seeing you, walking down...”

Surely she must’ve seen my car? “Sorry. I didn’t mean to give you a shock.” Still, she stares. It gives me the creeps. “Shall I make you some tea?”

“What, here?” she says.

I push my hands into my pocket and grip the smoothness of Stuart’s tie. “Um...”

“Which toy?” she says.

My mind races. “His lion,” I say softly. Nina bought it for him on one of their last ever days out at a zoo. “Stuart also asked me to help out because they had an attempted break-in last night.”

“Oh, my! Not again! Are the children all right?”

“Yes, everything’s fine. I waited for the locksmith. All sorted. What do you mean, again?”

“Someone tried to break in eight or nine months ago.”

“Stuart didn’t mention it.”

“Well, anyway, it was nice of you to help out. I’m going to check on the guest cottage, there are people arriving tomorrow for a long weekend.”

“I can help,” I say.

“You do enough.”

“I don’t mind.”

She looks past me as though she expects Nina to follow me down. I take my hand out of my pocket and gently walk past her. She turns to follow me, and as she does so, I see her place her hand in the small of her back and wince slightly.

I stop.

“I promised Nina I wouldn’t let you do too much,” I say, truthfully. “Please let me help.”

She nods her acquiescence.

I unlock the back door. We walk down the steps and cross the courtyard. To the right are empty stables. Two metal pails, left by the previous owners, hang off a white-painted side wall. Déjà vu hits.

Nina and I looked around here together when it first came on the market. Stuart was away somewhere—Glasgow, I think—at the time, and Nina had such a strong feeling that this would be The Place that she hadn’t wanted to postpone a viewing. Nina asked me to keep it to ourselves though; she knew I wouldn’t mind lying by omission. This meant that after they’d moved in, I had to ensure my surprise and awe appeared genuine. It wasn’t hard; it is impressive.