As she smiled and poured three glasses, I thought again what an attractive woman she was. She was pretty even when dressed in sweats and wearing no make-up, but this evening, she had swapped the grey T-shirt and black yoga pants of the morning for a tea dress, patterned with small red and yellow flowers. She was also carrying off some startlingly bold red lipstick, which complemented her generous mouth and her energetic personality brilliantly. In short, she looked lovely in an undeniably striking kind of way, and I felt touched that she considered our visit occasion enough to dress up a little.

I thanked her as she handed me a glass. ‘This is a great way to end moving-in day.’

‘You all settled in, then?’ she asked.

‘I am. I’m on the top floor and I love it already.’

She nodded and sat down on one of two aged, beige velvet armchairs positioned in the bay, the seat cushions of which were balding and indented with use. ‘I love my top floor too,’ she said. ‘We have a bit of a no-toys rule up there, so whenever I can’t face the chaos down here at the end of the day, I run up with a glass of wine, flop down on the beanbag in the front bedroom and pretend the rest of the house is just as tidy.’ She raised her glass of Prosecco and took a gulp. ‘Works a treat.’

‘I never ventured up there much, truth to tell,’ said Giles. ‘So it’s wonderful that it’s now being put to use. Why ever didn’t I suggest you moving in months ago, Edie? As soon as you and Jason…’ He hesitated awkwardly, clearly deciding that he had said too much.

Kerry looked at me over her glass and raised an entertained eyebrow.

‘Jason is my ex,’ I explained. ‘We split up two years ago in October, sold our home in Hotwells and I’ve been renting in Harbourside ever since. I came close to buying a place in March, but the sale fell through when the owner decided he didn’t want to sell after all.’

‘House-buying is a bugger,’ said Kerry grimly. ‘We were so lucky to land this place, even if it was moth-infested and falling down. Still is falling down, for that matter.’ She pointed to a narrow but lengthy gap between one of the window frames and the wall, which I now saw had been plugged with newspaper.

‘Kitchen plans still going ahead?’ asked Giles, sipping his drink and leaning forward to scoop up a blini.

‘Yeah,’ she replied. ‘We’ve worked out what I can afford and it’s all sorted, but the work won’t start till next Spring. I don’t mind the delay. I didn’t fancy the idea of being roofless at Christmas and it gives me a chance to save up a little bit more.’

‘What are you having done?’ I asked.