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H ad I bitten off more than I could chew? Absolutely, and I had to confess that to Reuben and Gray over a video call, where they both shook their heads and laughed at me.

“So this lawyer woman is a legend and the most unapproachable woman on earth, and you have her number?”

“She smokes cigars—very particular cigars. I used to order them. All under the table, of course. Whenever she stayed at the hotel, I would ensure I had stock, and she always rewarded me handsomely.”

“You criminal, you.”

“Actually not.” I laughed. “I bought them from a licensed importer—nice guy—and I made sure I took a minimal profit. Wasn’t ripping anyone off.”

“Just the fine establishment you worked for,” Reuben pointed out. “I remember your antics, Dad. And Luiz had a coke supplier, and I’m not talking about soft drinks. I would bring in the weed, until you put a stop to that one.”

“Reuben.” I sighed. “Anyway, when are you back?” I wanted to change the subject, not drag up the past. I suddenly understood Dylan’s constant look of being triggered whenever I mentioned the kids.

My son. Gray. Family. I didn’t want to talk about the dark times when I was carted away from my job overnight, not even getting a chance to say goodbye.

Brutal. The world was brutal.

“Couple more weeks is my guess. Then we’ll have to come back for the reshoots, and after that, we’ll have a break before the promo tour.

I have that sitcom to film in October, and after that…

” Gray scratched his head. “Re uben has signed up to sit his first maths exam in September, so we’ll definitely be back for that. ”

I could hardly believe he’d once been some kind of very troubled rockstar because looking at him now, sporting a sleek haircut and looking a million dollars, pacing up and down by the pool where my grandchildren were causing havoc as always, it was clear he cared more about Reuben’s return to school than his filming schedule.

“Dad, just ring her. I mean, what harm can it do? Also, now I want to know the outcome of this. So this Gun woman—good name for a lawyer, by the way—she hates Dylan’s ex-wife and might be the right person to ruffle some feathers?”

“She probably doesn’t remember me, and I know nothing about Dylan’s divorce or which side I should be on. I’ve only heard his side of the story, and I have no idea why a court of law would forbid him to see his kids. He seems like a nice guy.”

“Just majorly depressed and unhinged,” Reuben filled in. He wasn’t wrong.

“He’s working. And he makes me laugh. Good company when the mood hits. Needs to stop whining and get on with it. ”

“That’s what you used to say to me,” my son said with a wink. He made me feel old. Over the hill.

“I feel like I should be booking myself into a home right now. I can’t cope with all of this.”

“You do nothing, Dad, which you deserve. Relax. Do a bit of driving, feed the cats… You have remembered to feed the cats, haven’t you?”

“I have remembered to feed the ungrateful critters. Changed the litter and refreshed their water fountain. They’d tipped it over again this morning—water all over the floor. Revenge, no doubt, for trying to feed them that new brand of food I bought.”

“They only like the purple pouches.” Reuben pouted.

He treated those cats like his kids. Spoilt.

Totally. “Anyway, ring this lawyer woman and inject some excitement into your day. She can only fob you off and not return your call. Or she might ask you out for a drink. You should go out for a drink. Get yourself back on that dating site. Remember you had that mutual match? Ask her out. Live a little.”

“No,” I said sternly.

“What was her name, Dad? Ruth? Gorgeous lady. You said so yourself. ”

“I’m not going on a date, Reuben. I’m too old for that. What would I do with a lady friend?”

“You would not be so lonely, and she might make you happy. Ever thought of that?”

“I am happy,” I protested.

“Of course you are.” Gray shot back in view. “That’s why you’re spending all your time with your neighbour and getting yourself involved with his drama.”

“No drama,” I lied as they both laughed in my face.

“A weird wife, a depressed husband, a runaway daughter and a PA who microwaves coffee. I feel a songwriting session coming on. I could write a mega-hit with that theme. Now, listen to this.”

“Bye, Gray,” I said, and swiftly hung up before he started singing my woes to me. He did that—made up ridiculous lyrics to sing in my face, taunting me until I had to laugh.

I didn’t feel like laughing.

Instead, I rang the number that was burning a hole in my old phone, wondering if I was doing a good deed or destroying everything by putting my nose where it didn’t belong. Meddling.

“Hello?” she answered in that distinctive gravelly voice .

“Ms Larsen,” I said, hoping I still sounded polite.

“Stewart. Long time no hear,” she replied, clearly shifting in whatever chair she was sat in.

“Dreadful business with that hotel. I haven’t been back since.

Moved over to The Greenwood, and I’m still not settled.

What happened to good old customer service, eh?

They don’t even have a butler service anymore.

But I am assuming that’s not why you’re calling me. ”

Straight to the point, the way I remembered her.

“What can I do for you?” She took a drag of whatever she was smoking. I could almost picture her: sharp suit, grey hair cropped close to her skull, bright-red lipstick. Imposing. What had Dylan said? Terrifying. He wasn’t wrong, and I had to take a breath myself to calm down.

“I have a friend, and I don’t wish to interfere, but your name came up in conversation today.”

“Go on,” she urged. “In what context?”

“Do you know a woman called Veronica Scotland?”

Her laugh was not a kind one. It was one that raised the hairs on the back of my neck.

“What has she done now, the old cow? ”

“I’ve never met Mrs Scotland,” I started while she cackled in the background. “I live next door to her ex-husband.”

“Oh, yes. Dylan Scotland. She got him, and she got him good. Total doormat, that man. Wasn’t always like that.

I came across him once or twice in our university days, me being the Scandinavian import and him playing the role of the typical British dormouse.

But I tell you, when he spoke, people listened.

Then he met Veronica, and she did a number on him.

Anyway, if you’re looking for an assassin, I’m the wrong Gun. ”

“Is that not why they call you The Gun?” I was aiming for humour, at the same time praying she wouldn’t hang up on me.

“Stewart, as lovely as it is to talk, I have an appointment here that expects my attention and bottomless martinis. Talk. What is it that you need?”

“Would you take a look at Dylan Scotland’s custody case? His daughter wants to move back to the UK, and there are issues with the current set-up.”

“I like how you dress it up.” She groaned.

“I’m assuming Mr Scotland needs me to take this on pro bono, since Veronica screwed him for everything.

Would I look at it? Not in my worst nightmare.

I’m not the kind of woman who takes children away from the mother who loves them.

Nor am I the kind of lawyer who pisses on another lawyer’s work. ”

“I see,” I said, trying to keep the disappointment at bay.

“But Veronica Scotland isn’t just any mother. Humour me, Stewart.”

“I don’t understand.” Honestly, what was it with people speaking in riddles?

“I think you do. I expect Mr Scotland’s files to be in my possession by morning. Hard copy. No electronic documents with passwords and complications. Simple paper. I’m an impatient woman, Stewart. Short attention span. Let’s see what you can do.”

She hung up. I could feel the sweat running down my armpits.

She wasn’t the only impatient one, and perhaps this was the most stupid thing I’d ever done, but I grabbed my phone and opened my patio doors—before realising I was just in my nightwear.

I hadn’t planned on invading my neighbour’s home again, but hey.

He’d be lonely and frazzled from everything that had happened today, so I was just paying him a friendly visit.

It had nothing to do with me being lonely. Old. Over the hill .

I could almost hear Reuben and Gray laughing at me as I pulled on my robe and donned my slippers before sprinting across the wet grass like the fool I was.

He’d left the door open, almost like he’d expected me, yet was lying in bed with his phone.

“She texted me,” he said excitedly as I closed the door behind me. “Constance.”

“Good girl.” I smiled. “See? There is light.”

“She’s going to Paris tomorrow. I was hoping to see her again.”

“You will see her again. But first, Dylan… I need your help.”

“You need my help?” There was no excitement in his voice.

“I need you to send over your custody files to Gun Larsen. Like, right now. Hard copy.”

He sat up in bed. “You what?”

“I kind of know…Ms Larsen, and I asked a favour. She made no promises—”

“You asked Gun Larsen…exactly what? ”

“I asked her to look at your custody files and no more. She agreed. I have no idea what that means.”

Apparently something, because he pulled the covers over his head and groaned, while I stood there in my bloody bathrobe and wondered what on earth I had done.

“Get up,” I said loudly. “You want to change your life? Well, no promises, but we might have a small chance here.”

“She’ll just chew me up and spit me back out. Gun Larsen is a machine, and I don’t think I can handle going through this again.”

“So Constance was right? You’ve given up? You’re going to let your children grow up with nannies and some bastard called Brandon, when you have this house right here and nothing better to do? Really, Dylan?”

I was shouting. Perhaps it was guilt and fear from my side too.

“I don’t know what I’m doing, Dylan, but I need to do something. No, I take that back. You need to do something. Constance came to see you, and you’re lying in bed sulking? ”

“I’m not sulking,” he said, and then he was getting up, standing there in his boxers and a T-shirt, his hair on end, phone in his hand.

“Then get upstairs and look in those boxes and find me those files.”

“It’s a lot of paperwork. Most of it is electronic. I don’t even know if I have a working printer.”

“Well, there’s only one way to find out. And I have a printer next door. We just have to connect it by Wi-Fi and start printing.” Like I knew what I was talking about.

“You’ll help me?” he asked, still seemingly in shock.

“I’ll help you, but there’s only so much I can do. I don’t even have an address. I might have to ring her in the morning and ask where to send it all.”

“You honestly have Gun Larsen’s number? Just randomly like that? Even Jean doesn’t have her number. She’s like…a ghost. An untouchable legend.”

“She’s not a ghost, but she’s eccentric and stubborn and pretty much lived at that hotel I used to work at. She was a regular. We always talked. She’d ask for things to be delivered, and I would— ”

“Deliver,” he finished. “I can see that. You don’t half deliver.”

“Bah.” I had to smile too.

“I’m assuming there’ll be tea involved? If we’re pulling this out of the hat right now?”

“There will be tea. If you need something stronger, I have nothing to provide.”

“You don’t drink. I remember. Tea is fine.”

“Then let’s do this.”

He was standing right in front of me with his messy hair and hollow cheeks. Me in my bathrobe and slippers.

He smiled.

I did too. Then he hugged me, and it felt so bloody good.