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‘The records are all in the spare room upstairs,’ Iris said, inviting me in to her house. ‘Lovely that you’ve brought Rose with you. Teaching her the trade, are you?’

‘Something like that.’

Rose hadn’t wanted to come with me to Iris’s house, but Emma had taken Dylan to a football match and I didn’t want Rose to stay in the house on her own, even on a bright summer evening like this. After the revelation earlier in the week about her witnessing the death of that lawyer, I wanted to spend more time with her. Keep an eye on her, to make sure she wasn’t showing any signs of trauma. So far, she seemed absolutely fine. Quiet and thoughtful – I kept catching her staring into space, miles away – but apparently okay.

‘I’ll put the kettle on,’ Iris said. ‘Rose, would you like a cold drink? Lemonade?’

‘Yes please.’

Iris said she’d bring the drinks up and that the records were in the first room on the right at the top of the stairs.

Iris’s late husband, Alan, had been born in 1946, which meant he was the perfect age to have been into the Beatles and the Stones and all the other great bands of the sixties, but experience had taught me to be sceptical, so I wasn’t excited as I knelt on the carpet beside the bed in Iris’s spare room and started digging through the crates of old albums and 45s.

‘It smells of dust in here,’ Rose complained, sitting on the bed, where I had placed one of the crates for her to look through.

I wasn’t really listening. I was too busy pulling out records from the crate I was kneeling in front of and turning them over in my hands, slowly getting that most wonderful sensation in my belly, the one that told me my scepticism might have been misplaced. This crate was full of Bob Dylan records, all in excellent condition. There were also albums by Marvin Gaye, the Small Faces, Nina Simone, Etta James ...

‘Bloody hell, Alan had good taste.’

I found a copy of The Velvet Underground it wasn’t that edition, but it was still highly collectable and could fetch a few hundred pounds. I set it aside carefully as Iris appeared in the doorway holding a mug of tea and a glass of lemonade.

‘Hold on,’ I said quickly. ‘I wouldn’t bring those in here. You don’t want to risk spilling anything on these records.’

I held up one of the albums, The Freewheelin’ Bob Dylan . ‘This is a first pressing. It’s worth about two hundred pounds in this condition. And this Velvet Underground LP, there are dozens of different editions, and I could bore you about the differences between the photos on the back and the bananas on the front, but I think this is a pretty rare one. There’s lots of other good stuff in here too, and I’m only on the first crate.’

‘Goodness.’ Iris left the drinks on a side table outside the door and came into the room.

‘Whoa, look at this,’ said Rose from the bed. ‘So gross and so cool.’

The album Rose was holding showed the Beatles in white lab coats, holding decapitated baby dolls and joints of meat. Yesterday and Today . It was still shrink-wrapped. I gasped, springing to my feet and carefully taking the album from Rose.

I examined it, my heart pounding. My mouth had gone dry.

‘Holy shit,’ I said. ‘Excuse my French.’

‘I hate that record,’ Iris said. ‘The cover is so ghastly that I would never allow Alan to take it out and play it.’

‘I ought to be wearing gloves, really,’ I said, laying the album gently on the bed. ‘I’m going to go home and get a protective sleeve for it.’ I grinned at Iris. ‘This is the original butcher cover that was withdrawn from sale almost immediately then re-released with a new cover pasted over the original. It was only on sale for one day. It’s the stereo version too, which makes it even rarer. And it’s unplayed.’

‘How rare?’ Iris asked.

Rose, sensing my excitement, ears pricking up at the word ‘rare’, suddenly seemed fascinated too.

‘I think if we find the right collector you could get thirty thousand pounds for this. Maybe even more.’

‘Thirty thousand ?’ Iris put her hand to her forehead. ‘I need to sit down.’

‘That’s sick ,’ said Rose, reaching out a hand towards the record. Instinctively, worried she was going to damage it even though it was shrink-wrapped, I pushed her hand away – gently but firmly – and she reeled, an expression of absolute fury transforming her face. I was taken aback. I hadn’t seen her look at me like that in a long time, and I was suddenly, forcefully, thrown back in time to when she was a toddler, screaming outside the newsagent’s because I wouldn’t buy her the green drink she wanted, bucking her body and looking not unlike the girl in The Exorcist . Iris looked shocked too, though she might simply have been reeling from the news about the record.

‘Why don’t you go downstairs, Rose,’ I said. ‘I’m going to pop home to get some gloves and some protective sleeves before I look through the rest. Who knows what else is in here?’

‘I can’t believe this,’ Iris said. ‘Alan always said some of these would be worth money one day, but he had his heart attack before he ever had the chance to get them valued. Oh, I’ve gone all peculiar.’

‘Come downstairs,’ I said. We all went down and I left her with Rose while I went back to my house to collect the gloves and protectors. I was trembling with excitement, but not because of the money, which would be Iris’s, not mine. It was the thrill of being close to history like that. It struck me how lucky Iris was to have asked me to look at them, rather than some unscrupulous dealer who would tell her they were worthless before buying them for peanuts and making his fortune.

As I was about to cross the road back towards Iris’s house, Tommy and Nicola sailed past me in their car. I did a double take: both their sons were in the back seat. Eric and Albie. I watched from the opposite pavement as Nicola got out and opened the back door of the car. Eric scrambled out, and then Nicola reached in and took the hand of her older son, helping him. He could walk, but looked dazed, holding up a hand against the evening sunlight. He’d lost a lot of weight too.

‘What are you gawping at?’

That was Tommy, who had also got out of the car.

‘I’m happy to see he’s home,’ I said, watching Nicola lead Albie towards the front door of their house. ‘How is he?’

A tear leaked from the corner of Tommy’s eye. ‘He’s home. That’s all that matters, right?’

Then he hurried up the path, after his wife and son, before I could reply.

Before I could move away, Eric glared past me at Fiona’s house. He saw me looking.

‘My dad’s gonna get her,’ he said.

‘What are you talking about?’

‘Eric, come here!’ Tommy yelled, and the boy scuttled up the path, disappearing into the house. I was about to go into Iris’s when Tommy called, ‘Oi.’

I waited, feeling irritated. When he reached me, he said, ‘You’re friends with her, aren’t you? The Aussie. Tell her I want a word with her.’

‘Can’t you tell her yourself?’

He scowled. ‘She’s avoiding me. Every time I go over there she pretends she’s not in.’

I really didn’t have time for this. To get him off my back I said, ‘Sure, I’ll tell her.’

He pointed a threatening finger at me. ‘Don’t forget.’

Back at Iris’s, I went upstairs to slip the most valuable records into sleeves, then spent the next hour going through the rest of the collection to see if anything else stood out. There were a few others that were rare and in near mint condition, including some more Beatles albums and singles, but nothing anywhere near as valuable as Yesterday and Today .

Back in the living room, Iris had opened a bottle of sherry to calm her nerves. I explained that, if she wanted me to, I would come round to catalogue everything and estimate each piece’s value.

‘Most will only be twenty or thirty pounds, or less, and I can definitely find you buyers for the mid-range stuff, like that Velvets album. I know a guy who’s a keen collector of anything to do with Lou Reed. I know loads of Beatles and Dylan collectors too. There’s one big Beatles collector near here. I’ll call him. Assuming you actually want to sell?’

Iris nodded, still dazed.

‘What are you going to spend the money on?’ Rose asked. She seemed very excited that something as stupid as a record – these ancient artefacts her dad was so obsessed with – could be worth so much money.

Iris took a sip of sherry. ‘I don’t want to spend it before I’ve even got it, but I’ve got a son in Canada who I haven’t seen since before the pandemic. It would be lovely to visit him. I’ve always wanted to go on a cruise too.’

Rose’s eyes glazed over. How quickly she grew bored. ‘When are we going home?’ she asked me.

I exchanged a laugh with Iris. ‘Kids. So restless. We’ll go back soon, Rose.’

Iris said to her, ‘I’ve seen you coming and going with Fiona. I hope you’ve been having fun together.’

‘We have.’

Iris put her sherry glass down on the side table and leaned forward, cupping her chin with her hand. ‘Has she always lived in Croydon? The more I see her, the more I’m sure I know her from somewhere.’

Rose shook her head like she’d been asked a difficult question by a teacher. ‘She’s from Australia.’

‘Yes, I know, but ... What does she do again? For a job, I mean.’

‘Something in banking,’ I replied. ‘She has a new job starting in September, apparently. That’s right, isn’t it, Rose?’

‘I don’t know. We don’t talk about stuff like that.’

‘Hmm.’ Iris frowned. ‘I don’t know anyone who works in banking. I’ve never even met my own bank manager. Things are very different to how they used to be. You know, years ago—’

Rose sprang up from her chair. ‘Mum and Dylan are home. Can we go?’

‘I ... Okay, fine.’ I shot Iris an apologetic look, which she waved away.

I told her I’d arrange a time to come back and catalogue the records and that I’d talk to that Beatles collector.

As we left the house, I was surprised to see Fiona standing on her doorstep across the street. Rose waved at her and she waved back. If I believed in that sort of thing, I might have thought she and Rose were communicating telepathically – that Rose had beamed some sort of mental distress signal to her.

As soon as we reached her, Rose started to tell Fiona about the valuable record. ‘It’s really awesome, with these dead babies on it, and it’s worth thirty thousand pounds!’

‘Wow.’ Fiona looked across the road. ‘Lucky Iris. Lucky to know someone honest like your dad too. I bet a lot of people would tell her it was worth twenty quid, then make a massive profit themselves.’

‘That’s what I’d do,’ said Rose.

Fiona and I both laughed like she was joking, then Rose said she’d see Fiona in the morning and went into the house. Fiona was about to go indoors too when I remembered what Tommy had said.

‘Tommy wants to have a word with you. I think he thinks you had something to do with Albie’s accident.’

‘What?’

‘I know, it’s ridiculous.’

She looked a little bit scared. ‘What do you think I should do, Ethan? Maybe I should go and talk to him ... I’m just worried he might not be reasonable. What if he gets violent?’

‘I really don’t think he would. Not with a woman.’

‘I don’t know. I’ve seen him arguing with his wife and I’ve known men like him before. If he really believes I hurt his son ...’

She was right. I had no idea what Tommy was capable of. And I hated seeing Fiona frightened like this.

‘Maybe I could have a word with him,’ I said. ‘Tell him I’ve spoken to you and that I’m certain you had nothing to do with it.’

Her eyes widened. ‘You’re not scared of him?’

I swallowed. ‘Of course not.’

‘Thanks, Ethan. That would be amazing.’

To my surprise, she went up on tiptoe and kissed my cheek. Before I could react, she disappeared indoors, leaving me on the garden path, my hand covering the spot where she’d kissed me. When I looked up, I saw Tommy standing in his window across the street, holding the curtain back. He must have seen.

He glared at me, shaking his head, then let the curtain drop.