‘No, no, Lucy’s very tired,’ Melissa told her. She turned her charge around smartly, barely allowing her to say goodbye, and then with one hand under her elbow, marched her through the garden door and outside. Melissa had once been in the Territorials.

My father staggered theatrically across when they’d gone. ‘Refreshing to meet someone who lives life even more precariously than we do,’ he said weakly.

Imo giggled. ‘Made you feel saintly, Grandpa?’

‘For five minutes, but your grandmother was up to the competition and wasn’t going down without a fight. Give us a hand, Ned, dear boy, and we’ll heave-ho her upright. Pour her into the motor vehicle. Oh, and don’t forget her teeth, I think she’s sitting on them.’

‘She took them out?’ asked Imo, horrified. She hurried to help her brother retrieve them.

‘She’s got an ulcer. They were giving her gyp.’

‘Ah.’

I watched as Imo and Ned, with as much dignity as possible, gently helped my mother to her feet. She seemed to have a beer mat stuck to her cardigan and her skirt was all rucked up at the back, but Imo sorted her out with humour and kindness, whereas Helena and I might have been more exasperated. Ned retrieved her glasses from the floor and polished them before he gave them back to her. Helena and I watched grimly. How dare they get so old?

‘You know her latest thing,’ Helena muttered in my ear. ‘She’s decided to give Wednesdays a miss.’

‘What?’

‘Apparently her great-aunt did the same thing, the legendary Fanny. Took to her bed on a Wednesday. Declared there were too many days in a week, and that no one needed more than six.’

‘Helena, I’ve made a decision,’ I said, as we watched Ned and Imo begin the search for coats and handbags. ‘I’m going to go down and look after them. Live with them.’

Helena’s head swivelled round sharply. She stared at me, astonished. But then, as the answer to all her prayers suddenly became more than a distant light shining on the horizon, she wasn’t able to disguise her relief, even though she tried to.

‘Oh no, Luce. You don’t want to do that. I mean—’

‘I do, actually,’ I interrupted. ‘I’ve thought about it.’ I hadn’t really. The epiphany had just come to me now. ‘I can’t possibly stay in the house any more. Not after …’

‘No,’ she agreed quickly, although I could tell she was surprised. I could see the cogs whirring. ‘Maybe a rug?’ she said tentatively.

I managed to suppress a smile. ‘No, it’s not just that,’ I said, although it jolly well played a part. ‘It’s the fact that I don’t have to live there any more. There are so many bad memories.’ This much, at least, was true. ‘I just don’t want to stay.’