He screwed up his face as I continued to scrub. ‘It’s OK,’ he said, ‘she’s not a kisser. Oh, except when it comes to her good friend, Ronald. I’ve noticed that he always gets a peck and a very warm embrace.’

‘Ooh,’ I said, ceasing wiping and sensing gossip. ‘Who’s Ronald?’

‘He’s a friend of Kerry’s,’ he said, tucking Anthony under one arm and gesturing me towards the vestibule with the wine bottle. ‘An architect, actually.’

‘An architect? I might know him – or his firm. I know a Ron Chorlton.’

‘I don’t know his surname.’

‘Well, what does he look like?’

Giles adjusted his hold on Anthony and shrugged. ‘Just your typical alpha male: tall; broad; toned; strong jawline. Doesn’t look at all like a Ronald, actually.’

I blinked. ‘God, I don’t know any architects who fit that description – but I wouldn’t mind an introduction to one,’ I laughed.

He didn’t join in. ‘You won’t know him. He’s not Bristol-based,’ he said. ‘He’s with a firm in the Midlands somewhere. Birmingham maybe? I forget where Kerry said,’ he continued, now applying gentle pressure to my back to ease me towards the front door. ‘But I’m sure she’ll be delighted to apprise you of all his particulars and I have little doubt that he’ll come up. He usually does.’

Kerry, it turned out, had done rather more than open a bag of crisps. We arrived to find blini, crostini, olives and various crisps and dips waiting for us on a large coffee table in her front room, as well as a bottle of Prosecco, chilling in a blue plastic mixing bowl full of ice.

‘There’s beer too,’ she said, as she ushered me into the living room. ‘I just got fizzy stuff ’cos I thought you should celebrate moving in.’

‘I’d love some,’ I said, looking around the room, which was tidier than, but just as determinedly child-focused as, the dining room, with naïve clay creations and framed poster-paint artwork crowding out more traditional ornaments and pictures. Photos of Harry, from newborn to the present day, were dotted around the room, many of them, I noticed, featuring his father as well as Kerry.

‘Anthony has curled up in the kitchen,’ said Giles, entering from the hallway.

‘He can come in here with us if he wants,’ offered Kerry.

He shook his head. ‘He’s happy just to be in an occupied house. And I really don’t want to risk him scoffing any of this delicious-looking fare,’ he said, gesturing towards the table. ‘This really is so very kind of you, Kerry.’

‘It’s nothing,’ she said, dismissively. ‘Have a seat while I sort you a drink.’

We sat down on a throw-strewn sofa, and I watched as she began to twist the cork, before shouting, ‘Yay!’ to applause from Giles as it finally popped.