Laurel began to skate her gaze past him, as usual. Then she forced herself to look, to see the tall man with short hair, like Grady but not like him. She made herself absorb this image of him with his family around him – wife, kid and in-laws sharing Christmas drinks and snacks. He looked so … normal.

Slowly, he rose. ‘Laurel,’ he said.

Laurel realised that he was waiting for her to say something. She had, after all, just stepped into his home. It was good manners to speak to the host. ‘Mac. Hello.’

Grady stepped in and introduced Laurel to Tonya’s mum, Mim, and Tonya’s dad, Ted. Ted raised his glass to her and Mim said, ‘Hello, dear.’ She looked at Laurel curiously, probably wondering why Grady had introduced this statue into the room.

Laurel managed, ‘Nice to meet you, Mim, Ted.’

Tonya suggested, ‘Get her a drink, Mac,’ so Mac asked her what she’d like. She took a glass of wine, wondering whether Tonya had made the suggestion with automatic hospitality or whether she wanted to encourage Laurel and Mac to interact.

Daisy called, ‘Auntie Laurel, can you move? We can’t see the telly.’

Uncertainly, Laurel looked around, wondering where to move to. Grady, whose fingers were still linked with hers, guided her to a chaise longue, which they had to sit on sideways to share. ‘I hope you haven’t eaten too much Christmas pud,’ he said. ‘Tonya’s about to remind us it’s an antique.’

‘Certainly more valuable than you,’ Tonya said good-naturedly. Then, to Laurel, ‘My chaise is a bit of a family joke. None of the Cassidys but me appreciates the finer things.’

Niall sniggered. ‘It’s just an overgrown chair, Mum. Get over it.’

‘It’s very nice,’ Laurel said to Tonya. ‘I’ll sit gently.’

Everyone laughed and she realised her heartbeat had been thundering only when it began to calm. Her fingers were gripping Grady’s like a vice and she relaxed them. He grinned at her, as if in tune with her thoughts. When she was halfway down her wine and everyone had returned to watching TV, or talking, he leaned closer and murmured, ‘Can we go somewhere quieter?’

She nodded and they rose and slipped from the room, Laurel conscious of Mac watching them go. Grady led her into a small room off the hall. When he switched on the light Laurel saw a desk and chair, bookcases and a computer.

Then she gasped. On the wall opposite the desk was her painting, the one of the two little boys gazing in wonder into each other’s faces.

‘That’s yours!’ Grady exclaimed.

‘But I’ve just sold it to Selina Sullivan, an art dealer from Peterborough,’ she answered, dazedly. ‘She said the client had seen it at the village hall. I couldn’t understand why they didn’t just call me to acquire it.’