‘Yes, I hope so. And do call me Madi. Everyone does.’

‘I will. Thank you, Madi, for the tea and cake.’ He pulled the back door open, ready to go back the way he’d come, through the garden. ‘Ah, look, here comes Flo. And not a mouse in sight, you’ll be glad to hear.’

Madi sat quietly after he’d gone. She lifted Flo up onto her lap and enjoyed the warm weight of her as the little cat purred contentedly with her eyes closed and her paws gently padding up and down on the soft edges of Madi’s woolly cardigan.

Goodness, what was she thinking telling so much about herself to someone she had only just met? But then, he had been more than willing to talk about his own troubles, and in such a natural, uncomplicated way too. In fact, the way he had talked, it was hard to see them as troubles at all. Life had thrown a curve ball and he had learned how to adapt and deal with it. Perhaps she had been looking at things the wrong way all along. Nothing was going to change the past. She had been dealt a hand and it couldn’t be undealt. But she could certainly work out what to do about it from now on.

She waited until Flo had had enough pampering and had headed off up the stairs to leave yet more hairs all over the bed and retrieved her mobile from her handbag. She had resisted going anywhere near it all week, but perhaps it was time. If having cancer had made one thing clear to her it was that you never really knew how long you had left, that something could come along and hit you full pelt at any time. It was all too easy to put things off until tomorrow, but there might never be a tomorrow. And now the worst of it was behind her and her call could not be misinterpreted as a cry for help, it was time to start mending fences.

She scrolled down her contacts list. Casting agents, theatre offices, fellow actors, doctors, George … Her thumb hovered over his name.

Home number? Of course, he might have moved house since his split with Jessica. They could have decided to sell up, and he could be living alone in some little bedsit or hotel room by now. Or even with another woman, but knowing her son as she did, that didn’t seem likely. Still, Madi realised with a jolt of guilt, maybe she didn’t know him that well at all any more. How had she let things come to this?

Mobile number? He probably wouldn’t have changed that, unless he wanted to stop his wife – or his mother – from calling. Maybe blocked her somehow. It all came down to how badly he wanted to avoid her, and how willing he might be to leave the door open and see if she made any effort to come through it. Only one way to find out.