‘I’m really sorry to be a pain, but would you mind if I pop in quickly to use your bathroom?’ He made a point of wiping more water from his face. ‘I stupidly forgot my umbrella, and I can hardly see where I’m going.’

Mrs Stevens’ eyes widened. ‘Oh goodness, I’m so sorry! Yes of course, absolutely, I think I’ve got a spare towel you can use, and—’ She paused for a second, then seemed to make a decision. ‘And you should come in for a cup of tea at least, get yourself dry. It really is terrible out there.’

She stepped back and held open the door. Smiling, Matt followed her into the darkened hallway.

*

He could hear cups clinking from the kitchen.

Matt was sat in the lounge at the front of the house, staring around and trying to take in as much as he could. He was sitting on a large sofa that faced the door leading back into the hallway. On his left was the bay window, a shaft of light leaking through a gap in the curtains. A packed wooden bookcase stood to the left of the door, and on the right was a mantelpiece above an old fireplace. Matt’s eyes searched the marble shelf for photos, but there weren’t any.

He closed his eyes and tried to picture what he’d seen before Mrs Stevens ushered him through into the lounge. There was a long hallway that led back to what Matt assumed was the kitchen, and a staircase on the left that rose up into the shadows of the second floor. Matt imagined walking up that staircase, and what the layout might look like above him. Two bedrooms, or three? Maybe one at the back and one or two at the front, and in the middle a bathroom, surely…

Matt heard footsteps and opened his eyes. A second later, Mrs Stevens was standing in the doorway holding two steaming mugs. She moved into the room and placed them on a rectangular coffee table in front of Matt, a smile fixed on her face.

‘So, how have you been, Matt?’ She said, sitting down on a smaller sofa in front of the bay window. ‘I was just having a think in the kitchen, and I seem to remember Tim telling me you were doing something like – PR, was it?’

‘Journalism,’ smiled Matt. He leaned forward and took a small sip of the scalding tea, then made to stand up. ‘I’m really sorry to be a pain, Mrs Stevens, but—’

‘Anne.’ She cut across him, frowning. ‘I don’t go by Mrs Stevens anymore. It’s Ms Sherling, now. But please, Matt, you can call me Anne.’

‘Sorry, Anne,’ he smiled, ‘I don’t suppose you’d mind if I pop to your bathroom quickly?’