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remarked. ‘Quiet, unobtrusive, pays all her monitories for the mews on time through her solicitor. But one does feel for the poor woman. She’s obviously a severe agoraphobic or something, and ekes out every waking moment next door in that self-imposed prison.’
    â€˜Maybe she likes it that way,’ said Velda. ‘You don’t need to step outside the front door for anything nowadays, you can get it all online. Sometimes I long to shut myself away with just my clay and kiln and luxuriate in total solitude.’
    â€˜That may well be,’ said Stephen thoughtfully. ‘But I personally think a life without people and experiences and love must be a desperate existence. Don’t you agree?’
    An image of a Miss Havisham-type character, surrounded by deathly still, dilapidated rooms and dusty Victorian memorabilia flitted into Caro’s mind. In spite of the evening warmth, she shivered.
    An hour later it was time to put Milo to bed. Caro scooped him up from the kitchen floor, said a heartfelt ‘thank you’ to Stephen, Velda and Klaus, and left them opening another bottle of champagne and putting the world to rights. As soon as Benedict pushed open the door to No. 2, Caro could hear her mobile ringing. Putting Milo down, she rushed over to her bag at the bottom of the stairs to answer it. Fairoaks, the name of her grandmother’s house, was flashing on the screen.
    â€˜Caro, it’s me.’ Clementine hadn’t quite grasped the concept of caller ID yet.
    â€˜Hello, Granny Clem!’ Caro sat down on the bottom step. ‘I was just about to call you, actually.’
    â€˜Oh, hold on a minute, Errol Flynn has made a ghastly smell. Errol! Out, now! Hang on a minute.’
    Caro could hear a door being opened. For a moment she pictured the large but homely kitchen at Fairoaks House, with its worn stone floors and slightly lopsided path leading out into the glorious garden. Her grandmother would be sitting down to have her nightly glass of Dom Perignon soon, Radio 4 on in the background. Caro felt a pang of homesickness.
    The sound of footsteps and Clementine picked up the receiver again.
    â€˜Sorry about that, I really must take that dog to the vet; he’s been emitting the most noxious vapours recently. Anyway, where were we? What is the mews like?’
    â€˜Oh, lovely. The house is perfect. We’ve just been a few doors down, at Stephen and Klaus’s, having a welcome drink.’
    â€˜Good, good!’ Clementine’s voice was a little too bright. ‘Well, I won’t keep you, I just wanted to check you got there in one piece.’ Fiercely independent, Clementine was never the type to insist on daily phone calls, but Caro could still detect a frisson of something in her grandmother’s voice.
    â€˜How about I call you tomorrow for a proper catchup, once I’ve unpacked?’
    â€˜Whenever suits, you know I’ll be here. Send my love to Benedict and Milo.’
    Caro smiled. ‘I will, I love you, Granny Clem.’
    â€˜I love you too, darling.’
    While Caro gave Milo his evening bath, Benedict busied himself making dinner. It was eight thirty by the time she came downstairs. Delicious smells were wafting from the kitchen.
    â€˜I’ve just thrown together some salmon steaks in tarragon sauce, and some new potatoes,’ said Benedict, carrying two plates through to the table outside. He’d lit two tall white candles, and a bottle of Sauvignon Blanc was chilling expectantly in a wine bucket. Caro’s mouth watered; the tuna sandwich she’d had for lunch seemed like a lifetime ago.
    â€˜So, do you think you’ll like it here?’ Benedict asked after they had finished the meal and were enjoying the balmy night air in companionable silence.
    â€˜Oh, I hope so. Everyone’s made me feel so welcome.’
    â€˜It’s still not Churchminster, though.’
    Caro smiled at her husband