‘Yeah, it was kind of a last-minute decision,’ Olivia said, her cheeks colouring. ‘I knew everywhere would be booked up, so I . . . It was fine. I didn’t mind. Anyway.’ The subject was clearly embarrassing her. ‘I think I’m going for the poached eggs on toast with mushrooms. How about you two?’

They ordered their food and talked about Aidan for a while. This was the only part of the anniversary day that Lorna could bear. When they sat at a table in his café and reminisced, it briefly brought him back to life, as if he was there, sharing the moment with them. What was particularly nice today was hearing Olivia’s stories of him – ones that Lorna hadn’t heard before, or had quite forgotten about. In fact she found herself leaning forward greedily, drinking in every word, as Olivia recounted a tale about a sixth-form Halloween party where Aidan had taken it upon himself to wear a huge real pumpkin on his head, carving it so that it fitted like a crash helmet. ‘Oh yes! The state of his hair later on when he took it off!’ Lorna exclaimed, the memory of it coming back to her as clear as day. She would write this up in the scrapbook later, she thought, mentally storing away every word that Olivia had said. ‘Seeds and orange pumpkin smears, and that sticky juice everywhere . . .’

Olivia laughed. ‘He had it all over his face too, the juice kept leaking down as we were dancing. His eyebrows were full of it by the end of the evening.’ Her eyes were bright. ‘He was the funniest person, wasn’t he? You never knew what he was going to do next.’

‘Oh, he was,’ Lorna agreed in delight at once. The image of Aidan in a pumpkin helmet kept coming back to her with a feeling of wonder. How had she forgotten that? Having the memory restored was the nicest thing that had happened to her in weeks. It actually felt like a gift, wrapped up with shiny paper and a ribbon.

‘He was such a daft one at times.’ She gazed at Olivia fondly, so grateful for her arrival today. There had been a fragility about Olivia when she was seventeen; she remembered a traumatic tale involving her mum abandoning the family, but look at her now, appearing out of the blue like a good fairy and offering around her stories as if they were sweeties to share. ‘And you’re a love for being here today too. An angel!’

She must have spoken out of turn, though, because Olivia’s eyes filled with tears all of a sudden and she was shaking her head. ‘No, I’m not,’ she replied. Then her mouth was wobbling and creasing, and her fingers were trembling on her coffee cup. She looked dreadfully upset. ‘I’m a terrible person, Lorna. And I’ve done such a terrible thing!’

Chapter Eleven