‘No, no. I’m just glad I ran into you. And I was serious about putting Giles in touch with my friend – if he’s up for it. Tell him to let me know if he’d like more details.’

‘Will do.’ I turned away for a second time, just as Kerry emerged from next door. I began my walk up the path, pretending not to notice her, but Nicky scuppered the ruse.

‘Here’s Kerry now,’ she said. ‘Sorry, Kerry, did you wonder where I was? I got chatting to Edie – apologising for Friday night.’

I cringed at the reference.

‘Oh, right,’ said Kerry, locking her front door and walking down the path. ‘We’re not late, Nick. You’re always early.’

‘Always desperate to get out of the house,’ said Nicky. ‘But poor Edie’s not well, Kerry.’

They both looked at me, Nicky with motherly concern, Kerry with an expression I chose not to analyse.

‘I’m fine,’ I said. ‘It’s Giles who’s the real patient.’

‘What’s happened? Is he OK?’ Kerry asked, her concern now matching Nicky’s. Clearly, she still cared whether one of us lived or died.

‘He thinks it might be food poisoning.’

‘Plenty of fluids and tell him to stick to dry toast for today and then nothing fatty tomorrow,’ she said.

‘Thanking you, Nurse Kerry,’ laughed Nicky. ‘Come on, we’d better go. Enjoy your break from the office, Edie, sounds like you need one.’

Kerry turned and eyed me stonily.

‘Oh no, actually,’ I said hurriedly, anxious to make it clear that I hadn’t been complaining about Cameron to Nicky, ‘I’m feeling really good about the office and all my work colleagues. They’re really nice people and I’m lucky to work there and I’m looking forward to us all working together more closely as a team.’

‘Oh… well…’ began Nicky, smiling a little uncertainly at the sudden expression of corporate peace, love and understanding. ‘That’s so… nice.’

Kerry’s face, meanwhile, would not have looked out of place on Mount Rushmore. ‘We’d better go, Nick. Bye,’ she said, raising a hand in my direction, as if waving away a wasp.

‘Bye, Edie,’ called Nicky, as they began to walk.

I waved and then, unsure whether I wanted Giles to be awake or asleep, I walked to the front door, opened it and stepped inside.

I tapped gently with a single fingernail on Giles’s bedroom door and waited.

In response to a rather feeble-sounding, ‘Come in’, I pushed open the door to find him semi-recumbent, propped up on three pillows, his dark blue paisley pyjamas buttoned, as always, to the collar.