‘Much better, thank you. She’s up on my bed, having a nap.’ She nodded towards the box in his hand. ‘But I’m not sure cats eat Jaffa Cakes.’

‘Oh, no. The tuna’s for Flo. Nice and soft, while her gums are still sore. The cakes … well, they’re for you. Well, actually I was hoping you might like to share them with me, over a pot of tea …’

Madi laughed. ‘I know. Just having you on. Come on in.’ She went into the kitchen to fill the kettle, and Tom followed. ‘So, how are things? How’s your wife doing?’

‘No change. But then, there never is really. But how are you? I see you’re …’ He gestured towards her head.

‘Not wearing my wig? No, I’ve decided to brave it out, be the real me, while I’m indoors at least.’

‘Good girl. That’s the right attitude. And may I say that it did you no favours, that wig. You look much better … more natural, more real … without it.’

‘Thanks, but you didn’t see me when I was totally bald. As a coot, as they say. Not a pretty sight anyway, I can assure you. But now my hair’s starting to grow back, I’m feeling a lot more positive. Things can only get better.’

‘They can indeed. And are you better? You didn’t say a lot before, about your illness, your treatment. Cancer, I’m assuming, and chemo. Is it gone now? The cancer? For good?’

‘No one can ever promise that, but it’s looking hopeful, yes. Should be able to think about getting back to work when I go home.’

Tom took the tea she handed him and they moved across to sit at opposite ends of the sofa. ‘And is that what you want? To work? I’d have thought maybe you’d like to do something different now. You know, take a world cruise or do a bungee jump or something. One of those life-affirming, getting-your-life-back moments you read about people doing. Or just take it easy and enjoy being alive?’

‘I am taking it easy, while I’m here, but I can’t do nothing for ever. Work is all I know.’

‘And that’s a good thing? Doesn’t sound like a very good reason to go straight back to it. Not to me. How old are you, Madi, if you don’t mind me asking?’

‘Not something I could keep secret if I tried, in my profession. A quick internet search would tell you all you wanted to know, right down to my shoe size, even my bra size, I shouldn’t wonder, although that won’t work in quite the same way it did before, will it? One cup or two!’ She smiled, feeling proud of herself at being able to make jokes about it all, and after a moment’s hesitation Tom smiled with her. ‘I’m sixty-two,’ she went on, coming back to his question. ‘Not quite ready for the scrap heap just yet.’

‘I wasn’t suggesting you were! But certainly young enough to live out a few dreams. Tell me, what have you always wanted to do?’