‘I don’t think her house is like ours. I get the impression that they have plenty of space. Anyway, we’ll see soon enough. And I don’t have to say that I need you two to be on your best behaviour,’ I added. ‘I want to be super-proud of you both.’

Poppy shoulder-barged me playfully. ‘You’re always proud of us. We are perfect children,’ she said, although I saw her blush as she remembered that she had just been in a fight.

The journey went smoothly enough. Noah kneeled up on the seat despite my protestations, and pointed out anything of interest as it flew past the window. His stream of questions was endless and I caught myself looking around the carriage to see if anyone else had noticed my bright-as-a-button four-year-old. Poppy and I fielded his queries between us, but I’d had enough by the time the train pulled into Morpeth station.

The station was small and chocolate-box pretty. It made me think that I really should make time to get out of town more often. There was me, desperate to travel and see the world, and I didn’t even make the effort to explore what was right on my doorstep. I didn’t like to unpack that too far, mind you, for fear of what I might discover about myself.

‘Now what?’ asked Poppy as we got down from the train, the last to leave the carriage after I’d checked and double-checked that nothing had been left behind.

Hadn’t Clio said that she’d get that Marlon to pick us up? I hadn’t really thought about it when the plan was made because I was so excited, but now it all felt a little bit Brideshead Revisited. I was half-expecting this Marlon bloke to turn up in a flat cap and tweed knickerbockers.

‘Someone’s picking us up,’ I said to Poppy. ‘No idea what he looks like, though,’ I added as I took Noah’s hand and encouraged him to walk in a straight line next to me – no mean feat, I can tell you. Having a four-year-old boy is a lot like training a puppy.

As we made our way through the automatic ticket barriers, Noah endlessly fascinated by where his ticket had disappeared to, I felt Poppy nudging me. She nodded towards the station entrance. A man around my age was waiting there. He had a tumble of carroty curls and his face was so freckly that it was hard to see what colour his skin truly was, although it appeared to be almost translucent. He was wearing Cargo shorts and a shapeless yellow T-shirt that clashed violently with his hair. In his hands was a sign hastily fashioned from a cardboard box with LEAH written across it in bold capitals. He was grinning broadly at us and when I caught his eye he raised one eyebrow and pointed at the sign.