I spend the Monday morning taking an inventory in a swanky apartment round the corner from Harrods, and I’m home and about to turn into my driveway when I stop myself in time. There’s a car parked across the entrance to the forecourt, blocking Nick’s car in. I stare at it, infuriated. It doesn’t belong to Marsh, and it doesn’t look like an unmarked police car. Perhaps Cora’s invited a friend over. I get off my bike and manoeuvre it through the gap.

I let myself into the house quietly, expecting whoever it is to be in the kitchen. But they’re not. I can hear Cora’s voice coming from upstairs. She’s using the tone she used with Douglas that day she first met him: earnest, interested, verging on flirtatious. There’s no welcome from Toffee, and his lead is not on its hook, so I deduce that Tim has made himself scarce. I slip off my leather jacket, unzip and tug off my boots, then follow the voices up to my bedroom.

A man is opening and closing the wardrobe doors, peering in and casually flicking through my clothes. He and Cora sense my presence at the same time. There’s a long, uncomfortable silence before Cora bustles forward.

‘Grace. I wasn’t expecting you back so soon.’

‘What’s going on?’

Her companion extends a hand. ‘George Bonner. From Bonner and Brightman. I was just admiring the quality of the carpentry. You have a beautiful house.’

I stare him out. ‘Why are you here?’

‘I’m—’

‘I asked George to do a valuation,’ Cora interrupts, stepping forward, as if to protect him from the volcano bubbling up inside me. ‘I thought in the circumstances it would be a good idea to find out where we stood.’

I turn back to George. ‘I’d like you to leave.’

He doesn’t move, startled into catatonia.

‘Now.’

My voice is sharp enough to knock some sense into him. Cora and I listen to his footsteps, and the shamefaced click of the front door.

‘Explain,’ I say. ‘Tell me why you’ve invited an estate agent into my home behind my back. I’m interested.’

She draws a breath. ‘Someone has to be practical if—’

I clench my teeth. ‘Don’t say it.’

‘I have to, Grace. If the worst turns out to be true, can you afford the mortgage on this place?’

‘That’s my business.’

‘Face it,’ Cora says. ‘You can’t. You have a job that pays for your little luxuries, but without Nick’s income, you’d be in trouble.’

‘I wouldn’t be the only one, would I?’

‘I was only trying to help,’ she sniffs. ‘I’ve got some shopping to do. I’ll get out of your hair.’

‘That would be nice.’

‘Why are you so hostile?’

‘Me? You’re the one who’s here uninvited. You’re the one creating a horrible atmosphere.’