They help me up and I open my eyes to take the glass. The brandy is in one of the best glasses, lead crystal, which we never use.

It’s still got the red label on.

‘Go on, drink it up,’ Mercia says. ‘It’ll do you good.’

It’s like drinking hot pins. It prickles and burns my throat and my head then, suddenly, it brings calm – the storm is over.

I’m ashamed that I asked them to marry me.

And of the spectacle I made of myself.

But they don’t seem to mind, not the way that Enid would mind.

They don’t tell me to pull myself together.

They look at me, worried and sympathetic, and go into the kitchen to fetch the tea.

‘It’s harder for men,’ Mercia says.

‘Oh, I don’t know,’ I say.

The teaspoon rings in the mug.

‘We’re having a lick of brandy in it,’ Betty calls to me.

A lick of brandy.

We go into the sitting room and we all sit forward, leaning on our knees as if we’ve got secrets to tell.

And I’m worried again.

When they finish the tea with the brandy in it, they’ll go.

I don’t want them to go. I’m crying. I’ll keep them here all night with my tears dripping in my drink.

‘It gets easier,’ Mercia tells me, patting my knee.

‘You get used to it,’ Betty agrees. ‘I miss Stan, but I talk to him a lot. You should talk to Enid, Kim.’

I will. I’ll say to her, ‘Enid, what time will you be home? Do you want a lift?’

‘You can still enjoy life. Do things that you’d never do together – that helps, doesn’t it, Betty?’

‘Yes, that helps. Do something completely new.’

They both lift their mugs at the same time and tip their heads back a little to finish their tea. I feel the terror rushing through my skull. They’re going to go.

‘Is there anything you want? Biscuits?’

I nod.

Mercia pulls the hood of her blue cagoule carefully over her hairstyle and ties it around her face.

I walk them to the door.

‘Bye, Kim! Bye! Look after yourself!’

I nod because I’ve got no say in the matter. What choice have I got?

LOT 10

Zandra Rhodes 1970s ‘Field of Lilies’ printed chiffon gown, aqua, full sleeves, deep v-neck with deep aqua ribbon sash belt.

I’ve arranged to meet Gigi at Moss’s shop to fit the Ossie Clark dress.

She’s late. Moss and I wait for her in awkward silence and I wonder if she’s going to turn up. Embarrassingly, seeing it through her eyes, the place is shabbier than I remember. The lonesome fur coat is still hanging on the rail.