Craig helped the driver wrestle the bed frame and mattress upstairs, while Ollie issued directions from the foot of the stairs – ‘mind the bend, you don’t want to bring the paint off the walls, old chap’ – seemingly unembarrassed by his autograph faux pas.

As I went to close the door, Sheelagh came up the path, resplendent in a tight black jumper adorned with glittery red hearts, tucked into a voluminous skirt. She’d artfully arranged a couple of curls on her forehead, mascaraed her eyelashes into spider-legs, and painted her mouth blood-red.

As soon as she clapped eyes on Ollie, her pudgy hands shot to her cheeks. ‘I knew it was you!’ she cried. ‘I was taking Marmite to the vet’s for his monthly health check and saw you looking out of that bedroom window.’ She jabbed a finger upwards. ‘I recognised you right away, from a scene in Players, when you were caught in Gabriella Forsythe’s suite at that fancy hotel, after your cousin’s wedding, and hid behind the curtains so her husband didn’t find you.’ She drew breath, and Ollie gave a broad grin as he thrust his newly washed hair back, clearly not minding at all that he’d been ‘discovered’. ‘You weren’t wearing much then either, as I recall.’ Sheelagh’s twinkle rivalled Ollie’s, and I realised she must have spotted him fetching the towel from my bedroom.

‘Your eyesight is superb, ma’am.’ Ollie gave a little bow and, with a girlish giggle, Sheelagh said, ‘Oh, please, call me… Loretta.’ What? ‘It’s my middle name.’ A vivid pink stain crept up her face as her gaze fluttered towards me and away again, as though I’d turned invisible.

‘Charmed to meet you, Loretta.’ Swooping forward, Ollie lifted one of her hands and pressed his lips to the back of it, and from the look of wonder and gratitude on Sheelagh’s face, it was obvious that meeting her idol was exceeding her expectations.

‘I knew you’d be a gentleman,’ she simpered, when he released her fingers. ‘And if you don’t mind me saying, you’re much handsomer in real life.’ She smoothed both hands over her jumper and hips, as if drawing attention to her waist. A waist that hadn’t been there the last time I’d looked. Sheelagh hadn’t just raided her make-up bag and wardrobe since returning from the vet’s, it looked like she’d squeezed herself into a corset. No wonder her face was slowly changing colour. Or maybe it was the Ollie effect, which I was starting to see was considerable. He’d switched up the charm, as if the presence of an adoring audience – even one as humble as Sheelagh Lambert – was feeding into an inherent need to be admired.

It was disconcerting, but before I could analyse it further, there was a muffled curse from upstairs and Craig hopped into view, clutching one socked foot.

‘Sorry about that,’ boomed the delivery man. ‘I thought you’d moved out of the way when I let my end go.’

‘It’s fine,’ Craig muttered through gritted teeth, leaning over the banister. His eyes were closed, and his lips moved soundlessly. He was either swearing or counting to ten, and I felt a stab of guilt for not helping with the bed.

Finally unhooking her gaze from Ollie, Sheelagh watched as the delivery man came downstairs, his fleshy cheeks even redder than hers. He shot out to the van to fetch the bedding and curtains I’d ordered. ‘That’s the lot,’ he said, thrusting the packages at me, and fled.

‘You should have said, love, I’ve plenty of spare blankets going.’ Sheelagh placed one shiny, square-heeled shoe on the doormat. ‘Is he staying with you, then?’ Her eyes darted from me to Ollie, with poorly concealed excitement. ‘Oh my!’ she said, when I failed to produce an adequate answer, fanning herself with her hand. ‘Just wait until I tell everyone the latest. That there’s an actual star living in the house next door!’

Both feet planted on the doormat now, she looked at me properly. ‘You’ve done yourself proud, my dear.’ Her eyes shone. ‘To bring someone like Ollie Matheson into our neighbourhood…’ She shook her head, as though words had momentarily failed her. ‘It means an awful lot.’

‘Hey, it’s my absolute pleasure,’ said Ollie, drawing her adoring gaze back. He placed a strong arm around her, and as Sheelagh looked down in awe at his broad, tanned hand on her shoulder, her lip wobbled as if – in that moment – everything she’d ever wanted had finally come to pass.

I was almost envious of the purity of her emotions. Had I ever felt as passionately about anyone? My feelings for Max seemed puny in comparison. I almost felt sorry for Barry Lambert, suspecting he’d never evoked such a strong display of emotion.

‘You got a raw deal, being sacked from the show,’ she said, turning in the curve of Ollie’s arm, as though she’d remembered vowing to say this very thing, should she get the opportunity. ‘It was obvious to me that it wasn’t the whole story,’ she continued, her voice juddering with gravity. ‘I’m certain it was all a big game to Tattie Granger, you could see it in her eyes. She engineered the whole thing, you mark my words.’

Ollie’s features shifted slightly, though he didn’t take his eyes off Sheelagh. ‘It’s a perfect opportunity for me to try new things, my sweet Loretta.’ He was using a late-night radio voice that had Sheelagh swooning towards him, her expression pained, as if it was almost too much, and I knew she’d be replaying this moment for weeks to come – if not for eternity.

‘Do you want a hand putting the bedding on?’ From the top of the stairs, Craig’s flat voice was like a gust of cold air. I shivered, suddenly noticing the temperature had dropped with the door standing open for so long.

‘I can do it myself,’ I said, wondering whether he was jealous of the effect Ollie was having, even if the recipient was a woman the wrong side of fifty, with questionable dress sense. I had no idea whether Craig was in a relationship, but there was something contained about him that suggested he was used to being single.

‘I can’t wait for you to see our Christmas lights,’ Sheelagh was saying to Ollie, clearly not ready to get back to her mundane life. ‘I know you’ll make the right decision when it comes to judging the best house.’

‘I can’t wait, either,’ said Ollie. ‘I had a look last night, and I have to say I was terribly impressed.’ For a horrible moment, I thought Sheelagh was going to raise one leg and wrap it around his.

Maybe the same thought had crossed his mind, as he eased her gently away. ‘I’m looking forward to meeting all the residents of’ – he shot me a questioning look – ‘what’s the street called?’

‘Maple Hill,’ I said, adding rashly, ‘I’d be happy to host a meeting for the society here, tomorrow afternoon. Say, four o’clock?’

‘Sounds wonderful.’ Sheelagh was still gazing at Ollie, as if he was a priceless piece of art.

‘I’ll do afternoon tea,’ I said, wanting to impress her. ‘Make sure you let the other members know.’

‘I will,’ she said, though I doubted she’d even heard me properly.

Craig was limping downstairs. ‘We’ll need you all to sign waivers because of the filming—’

‘Filming?’ Sheelagh’s head shot round. ‘We’re going to be on the telly? Like Ollie in Players?’

‘He’s not in Players any more, and I thought you knew about the filming.’ Craig gave me a questioning look. ‘Didn’t you tell that woman about it, earlier?’

I gave him a frosty stare. ‘No, I didn’t,’ I said. ‘I was waiting until I knew more about what was happening.’

His jaw tightened. ‘Sorry.’

Sheelagh was half out of the door now. ‘I can’t believe I know something that Doris doesn’t.’

I couldn’t believe Doris hadn’t already called Sheelagh to tell her that Ollie was in my house. She was already halfway down the path.

‘’Bye!’ I called. ‘Don’t forget! Afternoon tea here, at four tomorrow.’

She raised her hand, slipped and almost fell, and I held my breath as she mustered her dignity and carried on through the gate, fiddling with her jumper as if her corset had worked loose.

‘Well, she was quite a character,’ Ollie said, when I entered the living room, feeling oddly shy as I pressed myself against the radiator to warm up. He’d flung himself on the sofa, legs stretched out, one arm along the back, while Craig hovered by the window, staring out. ‘How wonderful if they’re all like that. I don’t come across folk as’ – he screwed up his eyes, as if searching for the right word – ‘as quirky as that, very often.’

Now that Sheelagh – or Loretta, as I would never think of her – had gone, he’d dialled down the charm, and his posture was more relaxed. Not that I thought he’d been acting – I was certain lavishing his attention on every female he met was in his nature – but he couldn’t maintain that level of intensity without something slipping, eventually. Like people in high-demand jobs, who burnt out at thirty-five. I’d seen it happen to a teaching colleague, and a friend of my brother’s who’d been a social worker. Not that I was comparing what Ollie did with someone in social services – that would be ridiculous. But being Ollie Matheson was clearly tougher than it looked.

‘They are pretty quirky,’ I agreed, thinking of the neighbours I’d met at the Lamberts’. ‘But they might not all be as welcoming as Shee… Loretta.’

‘Oh?’ Ollie sat forward, elbows on his knees, eyes frisking me like an airport scanner. ‘Pray tell.’

Blood whooshed to my face. ‘Just that some of them… well, they probably won’t have heard of you, no offence, and a few might be a bit resentful that you’re not… more famous.’

Craig released a barely audible sigh and looked at me over his shoulder.

What? I said with my eyes.

He shook his head and turned back to the window, as if something fascinating was happening in the street.

‘More famous?’ Ollie’s brow creased. ‘Like, Tom Cruise famous?’

‘Well… maybe,’ I said, carefully. ‘An actor, definitely, or a singer.’

The brightness briefly left Ollie’s eyes, and I felt terrible for bringing it up.

Across the room Craig’s shoulders tensed, as if he was dreading what might come next, but Ollie simply smiled and said, ‘Well, I’m a terrible singer, but acting’s actually my passion, and it’s kind of where I’m hoping to go with my career.’

‘Really?’ I said, as if one of my pupils (former pupils) had announced he wanted to be an astronaut when he grew up. Then I remembered Ollie’s Wikipedia page. ‘Weren’t you in a vampire movie?’

‘You have done your homework.’ His gaze was so openly admiring that I felt as if I’d announced my intention to train for the next Olympics. ‘Yes, I was, though it was more of a foray into the acting biz really. The film wasn’t critically acclaimed.’

Craig coughed into his fist, which I interpreted as meaning it had bombed, and I wondered why he wasn’t being more supportive. If Ollie was making a move into acting, surely that meant there’d be a role for his favourite cameraman. ‘I’ll look it up online,’ I said. ‘I’m sure you were very good.’

‘It was a small part.’ He flapped a dismissive hand. ‘I barely wet my fangs.’

‘Shall we get on?’ Craig unzipped his Nike running top, and took a notepad from his rucksack, which he’d brought in from the hall. ‘I thought we could keep things discreet,’ he said, flipping open a page and running his eyes over it.

‘Only guy I know who won’t use a tablet for storing info,’ Ollie said, winking at me. ‘Complete luddite.’ I smiled, but didn’t admit I preferred pen and paper too, and wondered briefly whether the words might flow more easily if I tried writing my novel by hand.

‘I’ll film a short segment in here, or outside the house if you’d prefer, Lily.’ Craig glanced up, and I nodded, somehow surprised at the ease with which he said my name.

‘In here’s fine,’ I said, though I hadn’t really thought through the filming aspect, and still wasn’t sure I was comfortable being part of Ollie’s one-off show. I didn’t voice my doubts, though, unwilling to cast a pall over his career-revival plan.

Craig looked back at his notepad, pushing a hand through his hair, revealing a subtly darker shade beneath and a faint scattering of freckles across his forehead. ‘Once we’ve worked out a schedule, I’ll follow proceedings with my camera and we’ll just let things unfold.’ He paused, tapping the pad with his pen. ‘That’s about it, really.’ He lifted his head, eyes fixing briefly on mine. ‘We’ll try not to get in your way too much, and if at any point you’re not comfortable feel free to say so, we—’

‘Woah!’ Ollie raised a hand, like a traffic controller. ‘Steady on, old chap. You’re scaring poor Lily witless.’ He patted the cushion, indicating I join him on the sofa. ‘Of course she won’t be uncomfortable. I simply won’t let that happen,’ he said, as I obediently shifted from the radiator and sat beside him, smoothing the hem of my dress over my knees and trying to curl my toe back into my tights.

‘You’re used to having a camera on you, Lily’s not,’ Craig said, bending to put his notepad away so it was impossible to see his face. ‘I’m just saying, once things are underway she might not like it, and I don’t want her to feel like she can’t tell us to stop.’

Ollie made a yapping-mouth motion with his hand, and I gave a guilty smile. Craig probably had health and safety in mind, but it was nice of him to be concerned. ‘I’m fully insured,’ he went on, ‘so if there should be any damage to any properties, we’re covered for repairs. Not that I’m suggesting that would happen.’

Ollie pretended to stifle a yawn and Craig glanced up, just as I was biting my lip to stop myself laughing.

He quickly looked away. ‘Any questions?’ he said, reaching for the mug he’d put on the windowsill, and turning his back.

‘Are you planning to sleep outside every night?’ I said.

‘We won’t be here very long. I can manage a few nights in the car.’ He gulped some tea, and my gaze settled on his feet in their plain black socks. ‘I’ve got a thermal sleeping bag, and my outdoor clothes are insulated,’ he said, as if compelled to defend his reply.

Ollie sat up straight. ‘It’s true,’ he said, swivelling to face me with endearing eagerness. ‘It’s from when he spent a week on Everest, a few years ago, before his pa had his accident.’ Admiration crept into his voice. ‘We’d wrapped Players for the season, so Craggers took off with this idea of shooting a talking-heads type show, interviewing people on their way up the mountain about why they were doing it, bearing in mind they’re risking their lives and a lot of them don’t make it back.’

‘That sounds amazing.’ I eyed Craig with fresh interest, but he didn’t look round. ‘That’s definitely a programme I’d watch.’

‘Yah, well, like I say, his pa needed him and it didn’t get finished, so—’

‘I don’t think Lily wants to hear the story of my life,’ Craig cut in, though I couldn’t deny a stirring of curiosity. ‘Let’s get back to the topic in hand, shall we?’

Ollie winced at me and mouthed, ‘Sorry.’

‘It’s OK,’ I mouthed back, hoping Craig wasn’t lip-reading our reflections in the window.

‘So.’ Ollie slapped his hands down on his knees and assumed a serious expression. ‘I was thinking of a little narrative we could use.’

That got Craig’s attention. ‘I thought you wanted to be yourself,’ he said, turning to face us. ‘No more “structured reality”, right?’

Ollie stood up and crossed to the fireplace. ‘You should open this up,’ he said, smoothing a hand over the mantelpiece. ‘There’s nothing like a real fire during the winter. We had them in every room when I was growing up, even the bathroom.’

‘If you can do it, that would be great,’ I said, trying to imagine bathing in front of a roaring fire. ‘Apparently, there are loads of logs in the shed. The previous owner wasn’t here long enough to use them.’

‘It would be my pleasure.’ Ollie beat his fists on his chest. ‘Man makes fire. Me Tarzan.’

I couldn’t help laughing, even as I worried about the technicalities of restoring the fireplace to its natural state, while Craig muttered something that might have been, ‘For Christ’s sake.’

‘What’s that, bro?’ Ollie dived over and hooked an arm around Craig’s neck, ruffling his hair with his other hand. ‘Speak up, old chap.’

Craig tolerated the assault with surprising ease, cuffing his arm as Ollie let him go. ‘So, what’s this narrative you had in mind?’

‘Ah, yes.’ Ollie’s expression switched from playful to lustful, and he hauled me off the sofa and attempted to twirl me round. It didn’t quite work, as I wasn’t expecting it, and I ended up stumbling against him, then reeling away. ‘I was thinking it might be nice if I got myself an “ordinary” girlfriend while I’m here.’ He let go of me to scratch quote marks in the air with his fingers.

My heart bumped. ‘I’m sure there’ll be no shortage of offers,’ I said, straightening my cardigan, aware Craig had tipped his head back, as though seeking strength from the light fitting. ‘My neighbour was definitely smitten.’

Ollie threw back his head and laughed, seeming not to notice that no one joined in.

Wrapping his arms around himself, he looked at my scalding face, his eyes boring into mine. ‘I’m offering you the post, Lily Ambrose. As long as you promise me something.’

‘Oh god,’ Craig muttered.

‘What?’ My voice was faint.

‘That you stop wearing holey tights.’