Eric pushes the window open and stares across the meadow to the wood. “Those trees need thinning.”

“Those trees are just fine.” She tucks her arm into his, resting her head against his shoulder. She loves the soft mass of leaves; the way the branches mesh together, blocking out the railway at the back. They cast shadows, making secret places for the children to play. All children should have the chance to escape from their parents, though he doesn’t agree.

“I’ll take Sorrel to school and drop Ash at playgroup on my way,” he offers.

“It’s half term; there’s no school today and no playgroup.” She lifts her head from his shoulder. “Don’t tell me you forgot.”

He doesn’t reply; he’s not listening. His gaze shifts between the wood and the meadow, working things out. He wants a Japanese garden. A landscape should have shape, according to him, symmetry preferably, a proper sense of order.

She takes her arm from his. “You promised you’d look after Sorrel and Ash, remember?”

“I promised I would if I was here.” He shakes his head, his mouth turns down, there’s a trace of guilt in his eyes. “We’ve just been handed the contract for felling in Crystal Palace provided we do it quickly. I’d happily take both of them, but it would be far too dangerous.”

She closes her eyes, praying for patience. He could have told her before, but she won’t lose her temper, not today. Today has to be perfect for the children, as perfect as the cloudless sky over the garden and the warm sunshine that’s beginning to creep through the kitchen windows. There is no point in getting annoyed.

“They’ll have to stay then; they can join in once I’ve finished teaching.” She puts paper on the smaller table. “I warned Melissa and Grace that Sorrel and Ash might have to be around sometimes. It’s not all bad; little ones are supposed to be calming for dyslexic kids, it gives them a sense of control.”

“So I’m forgiven?”

“I’ll just have to hope they don’t mind.” She straightens, staring across the lawn to the wood, imagining the group of children playing together after the lesson, their laughter drifting back to her through the open window.

“I’d keep them inside,” he says, following her gaze. “I don’t want to tell Paul we lost track of his daughter. He’s not the forgiving type.”

“This is Dulwich, my darling, not the Amazonian jungle.” She touches his cheek. “If it makes you feel happier, I’ll ask Igor to mow a path through the meadow; they’ll be easier to spot.”

“I’ll do it. Anything for my princess.” A mock bow; he doesn’t like her calling on his coworker to do jobs.

The two men had met during a landscaping project in Dulwich Park. Igor was living in a hostel at the time, scraping a wage to send back to his family in Poland. Eric offered him a job and a place to stay in the old staff bungalow on the grounds; it had been empty for years. Eric and Igor make a good team: Eric designing and planning; Igor following his lead, a giant of a man with the jowly face of a bulldog, the same steadfast loyalty in his eyes.