Her sons’ flat was surprisingly clean and tidy. There was an open-plan kitchen-diner, which tapered into an L-shaped living area. A huge television occupied one wall and apart from a large leather sofa, a desk area complete with swivel chair and a lopsided cracked mirror, and a few dotted house plants, it was a very minimalist space. In fact, there were no ornaments at all. Elizabeth crossed an oriental rug, which Harry told her had been purchased from the local market, to look out of the large bay window. She was pulling back the curtains when a hissing sound startled her. Seated on the peeling window sill was a black and white cat. It regarded her with cool green eyes for a moment before stretching and jumping off with a swish of its tail.
‘That’s Tinkerbell.’ Harry shoved his hands in
