‘They’re not my favourites,’ Barbara said, pushing his hand away. ‘Didn’t you bring any digestives?’

A staff member brought a tray and laid it down on the table next to Barbara’s chair. ‘Three cups,’ she said. ‘Just help yourselves from the pot. And there’s cake, if you’d like some?’

‘We’ll pass on that, thanks, Claire.’ Tom winked at the woman, who had to suppress a giggle.

‘Can’t say I blame you,’ she said under her breath, and moved off to serve someone else.

‘So, how are you today, Barb?’

‘Good. The shower was cold this morning, and there was a blackbird. Who did you say you were again?’

‘Tom. Remember? We’ve known each other a long time.’

‘Have we?’

‘Nearly fifty years.’

‘It was the eighteenth of June,’ she said, a slow smile spreading across her face.

‘That’s right!’

‘I could have married Ken, you know.’

Tom poured a cup of tea and handed it to her, carefully. ‘I’m so glad you didn’t.’

‘How are the girls?’ she said, suddenly lucid. ‘Not with you today?’

‘Not today, love. Busy with the little ones, I expect, but I’m sure they’ll be along to see you soon.’

‘Do you have any children, Madi?’

‘I do, yes. One son.’

‘I had a son once.’

Madi looked across at Tom who shook his head and put his fingers to his lips as if to say, ‘Just go along with it.’

‘So, what have you been up to, Barb?’ Tom tried to steer the conversation in a new direction. ‘Been out dancing?’ His eyes shone with mischief. ‘Discoing the night away?’

‘Don’t be daft,’ she said, tapping his arm. ‘You know they only have the discos on Saturdays. You should come, Madi.’ She turned her head towards Madi and whispered. ‘There are some great-looking lads there. Between you and me I’ve got my eyes on one. His name’s Tom …’

‘Is she always like that?’

‘Good days and bad days. That was somewhere in between, I suppose. She remembered your name, and she wanted you to go dancing with her. You’ve made a friend there!’

‘But …’

‘But she didn’t recognise me, her own husband? Yes, I know. She gets confused. It’s how it is, I’m afraid. But she liked the slippers, even though she had no idea it was her who’d bought them, and she did eat the bourbons in the end, so we did our bit to make her happy.’

‘And the thing about having a son?’

‘Miscarriage. Long ago, and no knowing what sex it was, but she likes to have something to cling to. Called it – him – Ian. Keeps him real. And surprisingly not something she forgets.’

‘Oh, Tom. I’m so sorry.’

‘Now don’t you start or you’ll get me going too. There’s nothing I can do. Just accept things as they are and keep on being there for her. And I do need other things to do, to think about. Which is where young Donny’s stage show comes in. That should keep my mind occupied and my hands busy for a while. Just what I need. Thanks, Madi. I wouldn’t have even considered it if not for you.’