‘I wondered where you were,’ she shouts, as she walks across the road in her slippers. I internally groan. ‘Seemed quiet at yours.’

‘Well, yes. Because no one was in.’ I give a tight smile. Davina doesn’t even flinch at my sarcasm. Her skin is as thick as a rhino’s. She pulls the sides of her long grey cardigan across her chest. That’s a sign she’s settling in for a lengthy chat. I’ll have to nip this in the bud.

‘Saw a fella coming and going – thought it must be a new man in your life?’ Her pitch goes up irritatingly high at the end of her sentence – it’s something she does with every question she asks. And she asks many questions.

‘No, no.’ I don’t want to tell her anything about Richard. ‘Just the estate agent I expect – and prospective buyers,’ I say before rushing inside and slamming the door. Why must she be so nosy? It’s Neighbourhood Watch overkill. You’d think she was an eighty-year-old spinster the way she goes on, not a married, fifty-something woman. I don’t understand why she spends so much time talking about other people’s business. I go to the kitchen and fill up the kettle. I’ll have a coffee to counter the alcohol.

Carl hadn’t mentioned any viewings, so I’ve no idea who Davina saw. I wish I’d paid the subscription for the SmartRing app now – I could have used the recording feature and looked back through the footage of the comings and goings just to check. But it was one more expense I couldn’t justify, and I only really want to be able to see who’s at the door when I’m home before answering it; screening visitors the way I now screen all my calls. Anyway, wouldn’t Carl have told me if he’d shown someone around? Maybe he was re-checking measurements or taking new photos or something in preparation for the open house.

The doorbell rings, bringing me out of my thoughts. I don’t need to check the app now as I can hear the excited, sugar-induced squeals from Finley and Leo on the other side.

‘What’s crawled up your nose?’ Nick says after I wrench open the door and glare at him. His comment does nothing to ease my annoyance.

Deep breath. Slow, deep breaths. Don’t lose it.

‘What the bloody hell did you think you were doing?’ My hoarse “whisper” isn’t as quiet, or calm, as I intend. The boys have already rushed inside, but I keep Nick and his mother on the doorstep, their smug, shocked faces now looking up at me, aghast.