I had my speech all planned. It was glossy – a brilliant summary of all the things that I had got wrong since I became Mrs Mary Johns. A sudden memory of him running out of ten-pence pieces when he was in the horrible digs in London popped up. He had been working to save money to build a bigger, better Johns Farm, one that had kept us all cosy and warm. All he ever asked me before the pips went was if I needed anything. Well, I did need something now: I needed him. I needed him to come home. I held the phone tight against my chest to protect him, because there was something I had to shout out loud and clear before me and him got down to business.

–  Auntie Eileen! Get away from that door, you nosy old woman!

–  Spoilsport!

The sound of her finally clip-clopping down the stairs leaves me no option but to plunge in. This is the moment I reach out and ask for what I want. This is the moment I paint all the colour that I can bring now that the sun is high in the cloudless sky.

–  Hello …

–  Mary?

–  John!

–  Mary, I’m not planning on coming back. I wanted you to hear it from me before I tell the children. There’s nothing there for me now, nothing. I’ll decide what to do about the farm and let you know later.

–  What about me?

–  I’ll decide what to do about you, too.

The phone clicked in my hand. My husband always was a man of few words. Had he known all along that I was nothing? My speech gave a few little death throes in my breast before it croaked. He was gone and all I had to chew on was dust.

I stared at the dead phone for a good long while. When that got old, I collapsed back on the bed and stared at the ceiling for a longer while. I willed Granny Moo to appear with the flimsiest of signs on what turn to take next but even she let me down. I would have to find my own way. I grasped the nettle. Minds can be changed, hearts too – I was proof. I roped in Serena; she was going to make the first approach then the boys were all going to have a go. They smiled like indulgent parents at my grand scheme to turn their father round when he’d already made his feelings clear. We all knew he wasn’t easily turned.

Never one to take a hint, the more I thought about it, the better it got until it shone on the horizon, a huge gold dome where all my worries would disappear. John would let me have my say, he’d understand why I couldn’t open my own mouth and why the children would be so eloquent on my behalf – he’d always been a reasonable man.