‘Yes, and in the meantime, I suppose I could add a thingummy, making Ella Parry the residuary legatee to the house, like my uncle did?’

‘A codicil? You could do so, of course, though given that Ella is now about sixty and you a young man in your thirties, we would hope you would survive her.’

‘You never know what fate has in store for you,’ Carey said darkly, then ran a distracted hand through already dishevelled thick, red-gold hair. ‘It’s all a bit sudden, to be honest. I keep thinking I’m going to wake up.’

‘I’m sorry it took me so long to track you down. It was unfortunate that you weren’t in a position to answer any of my communications once I’d found your address.’

‘Yes, wasn’t it?’ Carey said drily.

‘And my attempts to contact you via your TV series also failed. I expect it was lost among the fan mail.’

‘They’ve also managed to lose the fan mail itself, now they’ve replaced me,’ Carey said. ‘No direct contact at all since telling me they weren’t offering me a contract for a new series.’

‘Dear me, the world of TV seems remarkably ruthless.’ The solicitor’s brown eyes showed mild surprise. ‘Still, once I’d travelled down and talked to the delightful elderly lady in the flat below yours, all became clear. I hear the driver who knocked you off your bicycle didn’t stop and they haven’t found him or her?’

‘No, and just my luck it was the one square inch of Dulwich Village without any CCTV surveillance! I’d had a minor run-in with another car only a few days before and meant to get one of those helmet cameras, but hadn’t got round to it.’

Mr Wilmslow shook his head and made a sympathetic tutting noise. ‘I hope you’ll make a full recovery.’

‘My left leg is never going to look quite the same again, but it was touch and go whether they’d have to amputate it at first, so I’m lucky it’s still there. Or what’s left of it, because I lost a few chunks here and there and they had to do grafts.’

Mr Wilmslow got up to go. ‘I had better get off to catch my train, unless you have any further questions?’

‘Not at the moment, though I’m sure I will, once it’s all sunk in. If the Parrys could continue to keep an eye on the place, then I should be fit to travel up there soon after Christmas.’

‘I’ll keep in touch,’ promised Mr Wilmslow, shrugging his slight frame into an ancient Burberry and winding a dark, wine-coloured woollen scarf around his neck.

As he left, he nimbly skipped aside to avoid being bowled over in the doorway by the tempestuous entrance of Carey’s friend, Nick Crane.