She breathed an exasperated sigh, turned on her torch and went out to see what was causing such excitement. ‘Has that blasted cat got locked in there again?’ she asked.

Monty gave a sharp bark and danced on his toes, his tail going like a metronome.

‘Oh, for goodness’ sake,’ she muttered, yanking open the door, ready to give the cat a boot up the backside to send him on his way. But there was no flying bundle of hissing ginger fur shooting out, just two pairs of gleaming eyes watching her from the deepest shadows behind the toilet bowl.

Rosie’s heart thudded at the thought of rats until she dared to shine the torch into the corner and saw Ron’s two ferrets looking anxiously back at her. ‘Oh, lawks,’ she breathed. ‘You’re all I need tonight.’

She hesitated momentarily as she thought about what to do, and how the heck they’d got into her garden in the first place – then saw they were edging out of their hiding place towards the open door. She swiftly closed it, made sure the latch was firmly in place and then hurried inside, Monty loping along with her.

Digging about in the cupboard under the stairs, she unearthed the old cat basket she’d once used when her long-deceased Sooty had needed to be taken to the vet. Lining it with one of Ron’s old sweaters which he’d left on the coat rack in the hall, she put a spoonful of dog food on a saucer before shutting an over-excited Monty in the kitchen.

She returned to the outside lav, then paused for a moment to remember how Ron handled his ferrets. Flora and Dora were nice enough when Ron was holding them, or they were behind the bars of their cage and docile, but the thought that they were probably hungry and frightened made her nervous. She shuddered. She’d seen their claws and teeth and knew what damage they could cause to unprotected flesh.

‘You can’t dither about out here all night,’ she muttered, steeling herself to open the door. ‘Neither can you leave them where they are.’

With the basket open and almost filling the doorway, Rosie squatted down and softly called to the frightened animals. ‘Come on, Flora, Dora. Come into this lovely basket so I can get you home.’

The ferrets eyed her suspiciously, their whiskers twitching as they sniffed the air and cautiously advanced on the scent of Ron drifting from the sweater, and the temptation of the dog food in the saucer.

‘Good girls,’ Rosie crooned, ready to grab them by the scruff should they suddenly take it into their heads to make a run for it.