He looked at his shoes. Nodded. ‘It is.’ We went to a couple of free seats at the front of the room and sat. ‘Your father said it might be pneumonia.’

‘Possibly, yes. And she’s so frail. I’m not sure I see her recovering easily.’

We sat looking glumly at the floor. I was pleased to see him, though. It was horrid being here alone. Worrying alone. So kind of him to come, and I told him so.

‘Oh no, no trouble. These places are the pits on your own. And Lucy, good that you’re – you know. Facing it.’

I shrugged. ‘Being realistic.’

‘Exactly. When Dad died, my brothers were so taken aback and I thought – surely it must have crossed your minds?’

‘Helena will be like that.’ It occurred to me that Helena would be devastated. She relied on Mum more than she would ever admit, whilst I’d weaned myself off her a bit, with difficulty, for fear of worrying her, at a younger age. ‘Were you close to your father?’

He hesitated. ‘Ish. No, if I’m honest. Not really. But we got on OK. It’s just, I was the eldest, so expectations … you know.’

I managed a smile. ‘Except you’ve done fine?’

‘Sure, but always hoping he approved. And he didn’t always. Milo and Toby had it easier, I think.’

‘He’d approve of you now,’ I told him. ‘Looking after Nance.’

He gave a wry smile. ‘Perhaps that’s why I do it. Wondering if he’s watching. Influencing me from beyond the grave.’ My father had said something similar recently to me, about Michael: don’t let it happen. Dan shifted in his seat, a regrouping gesture. ‘But I certainly don’t want to do it forever. I’d like my life back.’

‘Well, you won’t have to,’ I consoled him soberly. ‘As discussed earlier.’

‘Quite.’ He grinned. ‘Sorry, Lucy, shouldn’t really be discussing it. Can’t think why we are.’

‘I can. Much worse to pretend it’s not happening. I find it helps to go to the – you know. Worst outcome.’ I swallowed. Found my mind fleeing from it, nonetheless. ‘My main worry is Dad …’

‘Your dad’s as tough as old boots. Like my mum.’

‘He was … and still is, sometimes. But he’s a softy at heart. He adores her. Plus, I don’t know if I see him in that cottage on his own. With maybe me at Pope’s Farm. God, you’re right, why am I even talking like this!’

His hand closed over mine. ‘It’s shock. And one thing is for sure, if you were at Pope’s Farm, you wouldn’t have to be on your own.’