I squirmed. God knows why, but Luc, Reggie’s younger brother, had developed a crush on me when we were first introduced. The feeling wasn’t reciprocated. He was far too young – and something of a loose cannon. Luc’s troubles with the police were a great source of worry to Reggie, who had always been protective of him. He had been very taken with me and annoyingly persistent, asking me to go out with him several times. Eventually I had to be quite blunt with him. I still felt awkward about it, more because I was worried about offending Reggie than anything else.

‘And how is Luc?’

‘Back on the straight and narrow, thank God. Akhmad’s been brilliant – he found him a job in one of his restaurants. He’s training to be a chef and he’s not half bad, actually. My little bro! Who’d have thought it, eh?’

She got up and went to the window. Jobie was sprawled on the lawn, his head down, tongue lolling. He looked bored, and I felt guilty for excluding him. Mrs Barley was walking slowly up her path. She looked up sharply, clearly surprised to see an unfamiliar face. Reggie gave her a little wave, which she didn’t return. Instead, the old woman paused for a moment, scrutinising my friend with narrowed, hostile eyes. As she disappeared back into the house, Reggie stuck up two fingers.

‘Miserable old sod!’

‘Oh, she’s not so bad. Maybe you gave her a fright.’

‘What, moi?’ She laughed. ‘You’ve got the makings of a nice little garden out there. Ooh – she’s got a summer house next door! I’ve always fancied one of those. Eugh – don’t think much of the weather vane, though.’

I looked out to see Corvus atop the summer house roof, surveying the ground below.

‘Oh, it’s that bloody crow. Freaks me out a bit, but it seems quite tame. It likes coming to see the old lady, anyway.’

Reggie shot me a look. ‘That’s just too weird. A crow? They’re bad luck, aren’t they? Sounds like something out of a creepy fairy tale. She got a cauldron in there too, or what?’ She laughed. ‘What are your other neighbours like?’

‘There’s only the old woman, Mrs Barley. She’s a widow, no family. People round here don’t seem to like her much for some reason. She keeps herself to herself most of the time. But she actually seems very nice when you get to know her. She’s been a real friend to us, to be honest – even helped us out paying for the roof to be rethatched.’

Reggie pulled a face. ‘You want to be careful. Don’t get too chummy; you might finish up being her carer. You’ll have enough on your plate with a sprog to look after. Rather you than me, on both counts.’