‘Two please.’

‘Any problems with the fire, or anything else for that matter, just knock and ask,’ he said, sipping his tea, ‘I’m usually in, except in the afternoons. That’s when I visit her, you see. Barbara, my wife.’

‘Visit?’

‘She’s got dementia. Can’t really live at home any more. She’s not far from here though. Nice place. Very friendly. It’s one of those care places. And they do. Care, I mean. We’ve been lucky.’

Madi didn’t think that having dementia sounded particularly lucky at all, but if he was able to stay positive and cheerful, who was she to knock it? ‘I’m sorry.’

‘Don’t be. We had a good life together, and it’s up to me to make sure she still has a good life now. As far as possible, anyway.’

She busied herself slicing the cake she’d bought at Patty Martin’s shop. ‘I hope you like ginger,’ she said.

‘Love it. Barbara used to make a lovely gingerbread. More like a scrunchy biscuit than a cake though. At Christmas, when the kids were small. They’d try to make houses out of it with icing to stick the pieces together, but they usually fell down. Tasted good though. Not that Barbara remembers any of that nowadays.’

Madi shivered. Her own memory problems seemed to have subsided since she’d been in Norfolk, but the dread of what they could lead to still worried her.

‘Can’t be easy,’ she said. ‘And the children? How many do you have?’

‘Just the two. Both girls, both married and moved out. Got their own lives, their own families. They come when they can, try to do their bit, but it’s not fair really, is it, to drag the grandchildren over here to visit a confused old woman?’

‘Old? Surely she can’t be more than …’

‘She’s sixty-eight, same as me. Yes, it took her way too early. But she’s old to them. Not the sort of jolly grandma who can walk them to the swings in the park or teach them to bake cookies, you see. It’s a crying shame but there it is. Nothing we can do about it. Now, let’s change the subject, shall we? You don’t want to hear my woes. What brings you here to our little corner of the world? Young Prue didn’t tell me much, just that you’d be here for a few weeks, looking after the place, and the cat of course. Where is little Flo, by the way?’

‘She was here not ten minutes ago. Gone out mousing, probably. She left one in my shoe this morning! Dead, I’m pleased to say.’

‘Ah, the joys of country living.’ Tom laughed. ‘Not from around here, are you? London, I’ll be guessing.’

‘That’s right, London’s my base, but I do travel around a fair bit. The nature of the job. Here, let me top you up.’

Tom lifted his empty mug and held it under the spout as Madi poured the last of the tea.

‘Must be exciting, the theatre. From the inside, I mean. The rehearsals, the first nights, taking all those wonderful bows when the audience love what you’ve given them. Roar of the greasepaint, smell of the crowd and all that! It’s something I wish I’d done when I was younger. I’ve only ever really seen things from the other side, the public side. You know – buy a ticket, watch the show, clap and go home.’