She straightens up, drinks from the water bottle she’s stashed between her thigh and the gearbox and wipes the corners of her mouth with a delicate finger.

I switch the radio on and Anna groans as John Humphrys sinks his teeth into the Transport Secretary. The sun has risen, and although the forecast is that the mini heatwave is over, the sky is brightening.

I check the petrol gauge. Half a tank. I’ll have to fill up. Normally, this is something I’d do without thinking; just one of life’s chores. I rarely look at the cost of anything, let alone a litre of petrol, but since Marsh sent me copies of Nick’s bank statements I’ve had to change my ways. There are various standing orders, but the fifteen hundred pounds a month he gives Tim and Cora sticks out like a sore thumb. It’s unsustainable. If Nick doesn’t return his account will empty and those commitments won’t be honoured. I regret the impulse that led to this morning’s trip, but it’s too late to back out now. And I need to do this, for Nick’s sake as well as my own.

We approach the Moodys’ house by way of a long, meandering drive abutted by fields. On one side, sheep lift their heads, ruminating gently as we pass. On the other side the green shoots of some crop or other march along ridges of earth. There’s woodland beyond them and the sky above is pale blue broken by wispy strips of cloud. An aeroplane trail streaks across it, its tail softly dissipating. The house is built of grey stone and is cloaked in wisteria. Chimneys rise from a slate roof. I’m open-mouthed with envy. It’s gorgeous.

Beside me, Anna sits up straighter. ‘Quite something, isn’t it?’

‘It’s not what I was expecting at all. I thought it would be smaller. This is so grand. They must have pots of money.’

‘This is just their country crash pad. It’s been in Lorna’s family for generations. You should see their Kensington house. It’s eye-watering.’

Out of the corner of my eye I see a slow blush creep up her neck, but I don’t have time to dwell on why that might be. I pull up in front, and we get out, eager to breathe the fresh air and stretch our legs. There’s a scruffy Land Rover parked near the lawn. Anna marches up to the door and rings the bell. It peals long and loud.

‘That’s so people can hear it at the end of the garden,’ Anna explains. ‘Lorna used to ring it when it was time to come in for lunch. We could hear it all the way to the woods and …’

‘The river?’ I say.

‘Yes.’

I allow a pause before I speak again. ‘You must have missed those holidays.’