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painting to care of their gardens. ‘Okay, let’s go together. She may not like a strange man knocking on her door in the evening.’
    The lift worked perfectly and Jack suspected it was only the first level that had been knocked out for some reason. They ascended to the top floor. Mrs Becker chose the door knocker over the less intrusive and clearly lit bell. She knocked again a few moments later and was answered by a voice calling out that she was coming.
    The door opened. ‘Yes?’ said the new occupant, looking sideways at them because her wheelchair and a door opening inwards was a bad combination. ‘Can I help you?’
    Mrs Becker smiled but said nothing, so Jack filled the void.
    ‘Hi. I’m Jack Hawksworth. I live in the apartment below you, and the trip switch went off in one of theother apartments. We thought we should do the neighbourly thing and check all was okay with you. This is Mrs Becker, by the way.’
    The woman in the wheelchair beamed and Jack felt drawn to the warmth of the smile. ‘How kind. Um, all’s well here, but thank you.’ She reached out her hand. ‘I’m Sophie. Sophie Fenton.’
    Jack took it, noticing the well-kept nails and the waft of his favourite perfume. Amy wore it sometimes, and although it was an old brand it was a classic. He was going to mention it but bit his tongue. It might come out as though he was flirting. Wheelchair-ridden or not, Sophie Fenton looked terrific with her hair tied carelessly in a ponytail and wearing baggy grey trackies, the hoodie unzipped just enough to reveal that she had smooth skin and, from what he could see, a very nice upper half. Sophie was now shaking Mrs Becker’s hand, her golden hair glinting beneath the lights in her hallway.
    Jack shifted from one foot to the other, embarrassed that he was staring so long and hard. ‘Right,’ he said, ‘so again forgive the disruption, but at least we all got to say hello. I’m actually truly embarrassed it’s taken me so long.’
    ‘Don’t apologise,’ she said, her eyes sparkling with the smile she still wore. ‘It’s great to meet you both, and I hope the painters, removalists and all the banging around didn’t cause you too much grief as I settled in?’
    Jack shrugged. ‘I didn’t hear a thing. In fact, I didn’t even know you had physically moved in until just before Christmas,’ he admitted, again reminded of the Christmas pudding.

    ‘I’ve been here since late November, but to be honest, you’re as much a stranger to me. I’m exceptionally good at remembering faces and I’ve not seen you coming or going.’
    Jack felt the familiar surge of shame. ‘I don’t keep very regular hours.’
    Mrs Becker was shaking her head. ‘I used to hear the previous owner’s loud music. You won’t be playing loud music, will you?’
    ‘Not when I can’t dance to it, no,’ Sophie said, stealing an amused glance at Jack after realising the humour was lost on Mrs Becker. He returned a slightly perplexed grin, captivated and yet somewhat disarmed by her directness.
    ‘Are you settled?’ he asked.
    ‘Absolutely, I’m no procrastinator. Would you like to come in for a coffee, or . . .’
    He’d have loved to, but it wasn’t appropriate under these circumstances and not with present company in tow. He could feel Mrs Becker rocking on her heels, ready to barge in and snoop around the place. ‘Another time, perhaps?’
    Sophie nodded and he hoped she had picked up that he was doing her a favour.
    ‘Well, hope to see you soon,’ he said. ‘I’m sure we’ll pass in the corridor, and don’t hesitate if you ever need sugar. Just bang hard on the floor with a broom or something and I’ll come running.’
    It was a lame comeback to her kind invitation, the one he was already regretting turning down, but the wryness in her expression told him she appreciated his discretion.
    She smiled. ‘Use the lift, then you’ll be sure to seeme, although there’s not much room for more than me and