She glanced at her watch and seemed surprised by the time. The gesture seemed overdone, just for my benefit. I shield my eyes from the fire. ‘You said to me, “Buy the dress. It’s waiting for you. It’ll change your life.”’

Dinah chuckled. ‘Was I right?’

‘Yes. And that’s why I’m here. I owe you a future,’ I tell her. ‘Thank you.’

I’m breathing deeply, as if I’ve been running.

Dinah is silent, looking at me now, a steady gleam in her eye. The wind shifts the smoke towards us in the damp garden. ‘So I did that for you, long ago,’ she says, marvelling. She rubs her eyes. ‘And now, you and I, we are friends.’

‘Yes. Strange how things work out, isn’t it?’

The burning wood pops, releasing a shower of red sparks, and she turns and prods the remains of the jacket, sprawled black in the embers.

Her anger has burned off. The relief feels like the freshness of the air when a storm has passed. ‘Let’s take these clothes back inside.’

We carry them between us and climb the steps. On the doorstep we lay them down to take off our shoes.

She goes inside and I hear her say something to Moss. He’s still leaning heavily with his forehead pressed against the window, looking out into the garden.

Dinah puts her hand on his shoulder and he drops to the floor like a felled tree.

Moss is on a trolley in a cubicle in A & E at the Royal Free Hospital when Dinah and I get there in our Uber. His eyes are closed.

A young guy in a pale blue tunic stops by. We look at him eagerly. He could be a doctor, a nurse or a cleaner for all we know.

‘It’s good that they’re keeping an eye on him,’ I say to Dinah. She’s picking mud off her jacket. We both smell strongly of smoke.

‘Ha! Good for whom?’ She looks at her husband. ‘Look at him! He doesn’t want to be in here. It’s not safe in hospital. Too many sick people in one place.’

‘Yeah, that’s the idea.’

Dinah brushes a stray hair from my shoulder. ‘Dahlink, you don’t want to know what goes on in these places. He’s under observation.’ She makes it sound sinister. ‘They’re doing tests with his blood.’

‘He’s been working hard.’ I get a pang of conscience. ‘Dinah, you’d tell me, wouldn’t you, if it was too much for him?’

‘Bah! Work? Don’t worry; it’s not the work. They think it’s a virus, maybe. Give me your phone to call David. He’ll want to be here.’

David joins us twenty minutes later. His hair is mussed up, as if he’s just got out of bed.