Angie laughed and stretched out her hand, trying to relax and not think about the endless things she had to do that morning. ‘No problem at all, we’re thrilled to meet you. I’m Angie, and this is my husband, Jack.’

The woman shook it firmly, before handing over a bottle of fizz and a card. ‘I’m Sophie and this is Tom and Katie.’

‘Thank you so much,’ Angie said effusively, giving the bottle a quick once over, mentally categorising it as cheap and cheerful, and sticking it under her arm as she opened the card.

‘It’s nothing really; we just wanted to welcome you to the neighbourhood.’

‘It’s very kind of you,’ Angie said, and gestured for the neighbours to follow her into the house. ‘Come into the kitchen and sit down. The place is a mess and there’s boxes everywhere but at least we’ve got a table and some chairs. Tea? Coffee?’

Sophie hesitated, perhaps worried about intruding, but then she nodded. ‘Coffee please,’ she replied, following Angie and sinking down onto one of the chairs. Angie saw her glance around the room. The house was a typical four-bed semi-detached. When Angie and Jack had come to view it, along with several other houses in the area, they’d both tried to look past the dark green carpets, avocado bathroom suite and dilapidated kitchen and visualise the potential. It was a nice-looking house, they agreed. They’d have enough money to refurbish it to a high spec, it was close to good primary and secondary schools, and walking distance to Angie’s mum’s house.

‘We’ll do a loft conversion and rear extension,’ Jack had said, already making mental notes and measurements. ‘Then the kids can have a bedroom each. They’ll want that soon.’

‘It’s a lot of work,’ Angie had replied, wrinkling her nose when she spotted what looked suspiciously like damp in one corner of the living room. ‘Can we manage it?’

Jack had wrapped his arms around her and given her a squeeze. ‘We can manage anything, you and me.’ They’d made an offer that day and four months later here they were.

‘Obviously the house is a fixer-upper,’ Angie said now, as she turned the coffee machine on and reached into the fridge for a couple of juice cartons for the children.

‘Yes, the elderly couple you bought it from had lived here for forty-odd years and I doubt that they’d done anything to it for a long time,’ Sophie confirmed. Her children sat obediently at the table opposite their mother, but Angie could see them fidgeting.

‘There’s a whole pile of children’s toys in those boxes over there,’ she told them. ‘Why don’t you go and get some out to play with?’

The boy, Tom, leapt up enthusiastically and ran over to the boxes. The girl, Katie, looked uncertain but after some gentle urging from her mother, she went over to join him. Angie caught Sophie’s eye and they both smiled.

‘How old are your children?’ Sophie asked.