Bridget was running a ‘craft and craic’ hour twice a week in the town hall for those who just wanted to be around other people, and Anji was helping her out. She arrived with a patchwork knitting bag and sat beatifically creating a host of four-ply angels at an admirable speed, while patiently listening to whatever the service users wanted to talk about. Tara had joined in, after Anji had got her started with a simple pattern, and found that knitting was a great way of taking your mind off things. And also that the Angel Gabriel was in charge of water.

David offered to help with Tara’s drop-in counselling service alongside the craft hours, and his advice was, naturally, in high demand, particularly with the older ladies. There was already a small queue of them, patiently waiting with their handbags on their knees to see him.

‘No offence, Tara, but my friend Lillian saw Dr Dalloway and she said he was lovely,’ Elsie Cogan said apologetically.

‘You’re lovely too, mind,’ added her sister, Dorrie. ‘And we appreciate everything you’ve done for us. Especially these social nights. Never met so many nice people!’

‘Thank you,’ said Tara.

‘We should flood more often!’ agreed Elsie. ‘Between you and the River Martle, you’ve finally got us out the house!’

The Cogans were two elderly sisters whose midnight evacuation from their terraced house had stirred up memories of wartime Birmingham. ‘We’re putting on a brave face, bab,’ Dorrie had told her the night they were rescued, although the chattering teacup and saucer in her arthritic fingers said otherwise. Tonight, they were at the front of the line of orange chairs, their Yorkshire Terrier, Sukie, on Dorrie’s lap instead of a handbag.

‘Better make a start, then!’ said David, and courteously ushered them behind the discreet grey screen.

It was still light when the session came to a close at six thirty, and Bridget suggested a quick drink at the pub on Bishop Street with tables outside.

‘I don’t know about you, but I need a vodka,’ Anji said, with a determined look in her eye that made Tara wonder if she’d jumped to conclusions about vegans.

She’d glanced at David, hoping he’d say yes, and he did. As a thank you, she got the first round in, then David offered to get the next, and then Bridget said she had to get back to put her ferrets to bed.

Anji left soon after, and David and Tara were left with the bottle of wine.

‘Might as well finish it, eh?’ he said, and shared it between their glasses.