‘You’re most welcome, Luke.’

He offered me a strained smile and, with neither of us willing to acknowledge or address the sudden slight chill in the atmosphere, an awkward silence ensued.

I was just beginning to wonder which of us would crack first – with my money being on Luke, who had resorted to anxiously chewing on a fingernail – when Roger walked in, carrying a black portfolio case in one hand and his much-dented silver flask in the other.

‘Morning,’ he said, in the no-nonsense, northern grunt which always left me waiting for him to conclude his sentences with either ‘Mr ’erriot’ or ‘Gromit’.

‘Morning, Rog,’ said Luke with way too much enthusiasm, clearly hugely relieved by his arrival.

I offered Roger a small smile and a raised hand.

He glanced at us each in turn and then placed both the case and the flask down on his desk. ‘Well, you,’ he began, pointing a finger in Luke’s direction, ‘look like you’re on amphetamines, and you,’ his finger moved towards me, ‘look like you’ve got a Monday mard on. What’s up?’

‘She’s moving to Henleaze,’ said Luke, clearly believing that to be all the explanation necessary.

Roger, however, looked confused. ‘Henleaze is all right,’ he said, frowning at me. ‘I’ve got a friend in one of the retirement places there – the one on the Downs. He’s only got the one leg, but they run a minibus to the supermarket every Monday, and put on plays in the home and suchlike. He’s contented enough there. We go to that cafe next to the hospice shop when I visit. Nice range of jacket potatoes and no gluten-free, vegan nonsense.’

I glanced at Luke, who smirked at me in a point-proven kind of way.

‘I just wondered, Rog,’ he said, ‘whether the Harbourside location might not be better for Edie… at her age… and with both legs.’

‘Is the Harbourside rent cheaper?’ asked Roger, sitting down and turning his chair toward me.

‘No.’

Roger looked at Luke. ‘It’s not better,’ he said flatly.

‘Well, thanks so much for clearing that up,’ murmured Luke.

‘I’m really looking forward to it actually, Roger,’ I said pointedly, with a sidelong glance at Luke. ‘I’m moving in with my cousin who lectures at the university. He’s single, so it’ll just be the two of us in the house.’

‘I’m liking all that.’ Roger nodded approvingly, in the manner of a farmer who had just watched his dog successfully pen a flock of forty sheep. ‘Lower rent, known landlord, quiet neighbourhood. All the pubs in Henleaze are as silent as the grave come ten p.m.’

‘It just gets better and better,’ said Luke.

‘When do you do move?’ asked Roger.