As I stood in that quiet, leafy street, the pavements damp with rain, I felt my world tilt. My head seemed strangely airy, but I made myself digest what she’d said. Blue flashing lights and sirens. My house. Where Josh now lived. And he lived alone. To call for an ambulance would have gone against all his natural instincts. He must have been in terrible pain. Peritonitis was excruciatingly painful. I imagined him reaching for the phone, having resisted for a long, long time. I found myself making haste past my car, and in another minute, I was arriving at the front of my old house and leaping the two steps to the front door. I rang the bell urgently. I’d recently found a key at the bottom of my bag so I could always use that, but after a few moments, the door opened. It was Tilly. She looked surprised, and then pleased to see me.

‘Oh, it’s you. Good, come in.’ She stood aside.

‘Is he all right?’ I breathed. I realized my heart was pounding somewhere up near my throat.

She made a doubtful face and wobbled her hand horizontally. She shut the door behind me and spoke quietly. ‘He’s getting there. But he’s been super rotten. Really ill. Burst appendix. I only heard because I thought it was odd he hadn’t been in touch. He’d asked me to make him something and I needed to deliver it. I kept texting, but then I rang and he eventually answered. He could barely speak, so I knew something was up. I barged my way in here with a bucket full of chicken soup, although he’s not very hungry.’

‘Where is he?’ I asked, as we went down the hallway.

‘Well, believe it or not, he’s in the garden. Wrapped up in hundreds of blankets, obviously. And I was a bit nervous about it, but he says he feels worse inside. I’ve literally just trundled him out, but he’s only staying there for ten minutes, then I’m bringing him back in again. We don’t want pneumonia on top of everything else.’ She gave me a wry smile. ‘I’ve designated myself head nurse, by the way.’

‘Good for you,’ I told her as we went into the kitchen.

She stopped short of the open French windows. ‘I’ll let you go out,’ she said quietly. ‘He won’t thank me for letting you in.’

‘Oh – because …?’

‘Doesn’t want anyone to see him like this. I don’t count, obviously.’ She grinned and went back to the cooker where she was heating something pleasant-smelling on the hob. She gave it a stir.