‘Which is why we love him – and why we know he’ll be wonderful around the baby when he or she arrives.’ He smiled, squeezing my hand across the table. ‘Thanks for suggesting coming out tonight. I feel a lot better about – well, you know. I guess I’ll have to toughen up a bit and put it down to experience.’

‘Don’t toughen up. It’s good that you care so much. That’s one of the things I love about you.’

His eyes locked with mine. The brief silence was broken by a shared splutter of laughter.

‘Christ, listen to us,’ I said. ‘We’ve turned into a right mushy old pair. How did that happen?’

‘Maybe that’s what starting a family can do to you. Makes you realise what’s important.’ He nodded towards my plate. ‘D’you want that last wrap – or can you spare it for the love of your life?’

We finished our meal, and were getting up to leave when a wizened elderly man in a flat cap, who had been sitting at the bar, hobbled purposefully over to us. His walking stick clicked against the tiled floor.

‘You the new folk in Wisteria Cottage?’ he enquired bluntly. One of his red-rimmed rheumy eyes had a marked divergent squint. He scanned our faces curiously, as if we had descended from another planet.

Jack looked amused. ‘Yes, that’s right. Why do you ask?’

The man seemed to soften. ‘Oh, I knew the old owners back in the day. Ted Burrows and his wife. I went to school with him. They moved away over thirty years ago. It passed to their children after they popped their clogs, but they never wanted to move back in. Don’t suppose the batty old bird next door helped matters. It’s been rented out ever since. Lots of different people have come and gone, but no one’s ever taken care of the old place properly. I saw the Burrows’ son round there a few months ago – said it had become an albatross round his neck and he wanted shut of it. Good that someone’s finally going to lick it back into shape.’

‘Well, I hope we won’t disappoint. We’ve got a list of jobs a mile long, but we’ll do our best.’

‘I hope you will. Whatever they say about Virginia Barley, at least she keeps that house up to scratch. We’ve a lovely village here and it’s a shame when there’s a property letting the side down. But I’m sure you’ll soon get it looking decent again.’ These last words were said pointedly, as though he were issuing an instruction. ‘Good evening to you both.’ He doffed his cap and clicked off towards the door.

We stared after him, speechless. I looked at Jack and we both shrugged. ‘That’s us told, then,’ I said. ‘We’d better pull our fingers out!’