I look back at the house. It is impressive, without a doubt. The modern kitchen extension could have been an uncomfortable juxtaposition, but the heritage-cream paintwork connects it firmly to the wooden window frames. I lift my gaze to the top floor and see Lottie peering out. He’s seen her too, and he gives her a cheery wave. It’s strange that he’s turned up here. Not normal boss behaviour, even if they do have an excellent relationship.

‘So, what’s wrong with him?’ he asks.

‘Some kind of virulent tummy bug,’ I respond instinctively. It makes no sense, but I pray that Nick doesn’t pick this moment to come home. It would be so embarrassing.

‘Can I see him?’

‘I don’t want to wake him. I’ll get him to call you. This is a bit out of your way, isn’t it?’

He smiles and his teeth gleam. ‘I’m due for dinner round the corner, and as I had some papers I wanted to give Nick, I thought I’d drop in and see how he was doing.’ He holds up his briefcase, as if to prove it.

‘You can leave them with me if you like,’ I say. ‘I wouldn’t want to make you late.’

‘I’ve got a bit of time. I don’t suppose I could have a drink? It’s been a long day and I need to fortify myself before supper.’

I doubt that’s true, but I fetch a beer, pop the lid and hand him the cold bottle.

He stands with his feet apart, towering over me. ‘Nick was in an odd mood on Friday,’ he says. ‘So, I was concerned that the no-show today might have had something to do with it.’ His head tilts, as if he’s trying to gauge my response.

‘Not at all,’ I say, blushing. ‘He’s genuinely ill. Vomiting, diarrhoea and a horrible headache.’ I’m hoping that a graphic description will get him out of the house. ‘What do you mean, an odd mood?’

‘Subdued. Did he say anything to you?’

I shake my head. ‘No. Well, he may have said he’d had a stressful day.’

‘Does he share his worries with you? Would he tell you if something was wrong? I try not to bore my wife with the day-to-day aggravations, but if something is genuinely bothering me, she’s very good at winkling it out. And helpful. Do you help Nick?’

His dark eyes, under the silver brows, probe for the truth. Does he sense that I’m lying?

‘Not really. Look, I’m sorry to rush you, but I’m in the middle of getting supper ready.’

I glance inside, my body language clear. A polite request for him to leave. I wish I could tell him the truth, because he might be able to help, but if Nick has had some sort of emotional breakdown he wouldn’t want him to know.