They bought another house nearby, and lived there while they redecorated Holford Road; they put in the garaging, pool, gym, and a glass-box extension, increasing the size by almost two thousand square feet. When they moved back in, he made a profit on selling the second house, so there was no harm done, but when it came to Alex’s eighteenth birthday, having learned a lesson, they hired a club for the night. Bea spent hers in a bar in Prague, InterRailing, so there was no need to bother about hers.

Holford Road was Griff’s favourite house. The duplex on Central Park West, the chalet in Cortina, the manor house in Hampshire, and the house on St Barts were for investment, or entertaining. Holford Road grounded him. Here, he had been through scandal and public disgrace and still hung on to his money. He had reached his fortieth year of marriage in Holford Road; had four fucks serious enough to be called mistresses, and proved himself a gentleman by bringing none of them home – literally, if not figuratively. Griff saw property like any other investment, and cities were only differing markets to him, but Holford Road was more than property. It was a family house. It was English. He was sure his parents had felt the same way about their seven hundred square feet in Whitechapel as he felt about his eight thousand in Holford Road.

Griff’s driver Ashir had collected them from Heathrow in an outsized SUV that could hardly squeeze into the driveway, and started getting the luggage from the back before they had all climbed out. Dan squinted up at the house, adjusting from the darkness behind the tinted windows.

‘Fuck,’ he whispered.

‘It’s just a house,’ said Bea.

Griff, first up the steps, opened the front door. ‘Porsche sweet Porsche,’ he said, as the four of them came into the hall, then he was off down the spiral stairs. ‘I tell you, I never want to see another rented car. That was a nightmare.’

‘Kiss the Merc for me,’ said Liv.

Blessica came up from the kitchen.

‘Oh, Mrs Liv. Oh, Mrs Liv. Home now.’

Overcome with emotion, she ran forward to take the suitcases, her eyes brimming on Liv’s behalf.

‘Miss Bea!’

‘Hi, Blessica, how are you?’

‘I’m so sorry. So sorry.’

‘Thank you. This is Dan.’

Bea and Dan went up to Bea’s room. He didn’t say anything as they went up, but his silence spoke. She heard every exclamation of awe as if she could read his mind.

Her window on the second floor, overlooked the street. Dan put down his bag and went through the dressing room, to explore.

‘Mind if I take a bath?’

‘No, sure.’