‘On Wednesday?’ replied Isobel. She lifted one of Rab’s collarless work shirts from the pile in the ironing basket and put it on the ironing board. It might just be an old shirt, worn when he was stripping wallpaper, but she still wanted him to feel loved and cared for.

‘Yes. For the Armistice parade.’

‘I’m not sure.’

Ann took the envelopes out of the box and began to put them all face side up so she could read what was written on them. ‘Keith and I are going.’ She looked across at Isobel, who was positioning a chair below the central ceiling light. ‘Stop! Don’t do that until I’ve turned it off at the wall. Do you want me to steady it for you?’

‘Please.’ Isobel waited for the switch to be flicked and then climbed up and removed the lightbulb before fitting a two-way connector into the hanging socket. She refitted the bulb into one side of the Y junction. ‘Pass me up that cable for the iron, would you? And then do the switch for me again once I’m finished so I can make sure it’s working.’

When the iron was safely plugged into the light fitting and they could smell it starting to warm up, Isobel got down off the chair. She licked her finger and dabbed it quickly on the soleplate. ‘Not hot enough yet.’

‘You can walk with us if you like?’

‘Mmmm?’

Isobel arranged the shirt across the ironing board and dabbed the soleplate with a wetted finger a second time. ‘That’s more like it.’ She pressed down firmly on the slightly damp cotton, hearing a gentle hiss as the heat met moisture.

Ann knew her offer was being ignored. She went back to arranging her collection of seeds in alphabetical order. ‘I thought I might try some more vegetables next year. You know, in the borders. I know that’s not how anyone else around here does their garden, but I don’t care.’ She looked across at Isobel. ‘What do you think?’

Isobel appeared to be lost in thought as she pushed the nose of the iron into every pleat and fold of the shirt with a precision which absorbed her completely.

‘I was thinking giant leeks and perhaps a few zebras and a fleet of tadpoles?’

Eventually, Isobel realised she was being spoken to. ‘Sorry, I was miles away.’ She lifted the shirt off the board and arranged it on a coat-hanger.

‘What do you think about the seeds?’

‘I’m sure whatever you are planning will be splendid.’

‘Isobel!’

‘What?’

‘You haven’t been listening to a word I’ve said.’

Isobel propped the iron up where it wouldn’t scorch the ironing board. She came over to the table and sat down. ‘I was listening, actually. I just didn’t know how to answer you.’

‘About Wednesday or about the tadpoles?’