‘Queen?’ She stared at me. ‘I’m talking about your rendition of Frank Sinatra’s “My Way” with an old lady, complete with high kicks.’

I gulped. ‘How do you know about that?’

‘CCTV,’ she said, pointing to a small screen on a bracket high up on the wall of her office.

Oh no.

‘I thought that was just for at night, when the security team is here,’ I said in a small voice.

‘Nope. We see everything.’ Her nostrils flared but I thought – hoped – I could see a glimmer of amusement in her eye.

‘Look, I’m sorry,’ I pleaded. ‘I know I’m supposed to be just gardening, but my motto is to always be kind. And I find it hard to say no when people ask me to do stuff. Always have. My sister Evie says I’m a pleaser.’

I once admitted to Evie that I took my inspiration from Paddington Bear who always did the kind thing. When she’d finally got her breath back from a fit of laughter, she said the fact I’d chosen a cuddly, duffel-coat-wearing, marmalade-sandwich-eating teddy bear as a role model explained a lot about the scrapes I got myself into.

‘I can see that.’ Paula cocked her head to one side. ‘And while it does mean that you bend the rules to the point of snapping, kindness is something from which we can all benefit, from time to time.’

I let out a breath. ‘I’m so relieved. I thought you were giving me a warning.’

‘I am. Unofficially. But you’ve brought a zest for life to this crematorium, Lottie; not just to the gardens, but to the team too. We’ve never had a member of staff who’s had so much interaction with our visitors before. I’m not, however, condoning the pet burial, or you joining in with ceremonies to sprinkle ashes, or sitting on the bench under the cherry tree going through that old lady’s wedding albums.’

I winced; she really had paid attention to that CCTV.

‘Now. Next week …’ Paula sat back in her chair and steepled her fingers. ‘There is good news and bad news.’

My heart sank again. ‘Please can we start with the bad?’

‘Lisa, whose post you’ve been filling, has been declared fit for work from Monday. Great for her, but it would mean that your last day should be this Friday.’

‘Should be?’ I held my breath.

Paula beamed. ‘I’m delighted to say that another opening has cropped up …’

Ten minutes later I stumbled from her office and back outside to the car park hardly daring to believe what I’d just heard. A promotion. Me. To grounds maintenance supervisor. More money, longer hours, paid holiday, a pension even – I’d never had a pension! Dad would be pleased for me; he worried, I knew, that we were hardly making ends meet at the moment.