She was back in an instant.

‘It’s been such a long dark tunnel and sometimes I wonder if I’ll ever come through it. But it’s not fair that you’ve been the butt of all my sorrow.’

‘It’s fine, I promise.’

‘Thanks hon. I really appreciate you understanding. You see, ever since he died …’

And then she was off. On and on she went. And on and on I answered, because, I reasoned, she wasn’t being mean now, and I was just so relieved she wasn’t insulting me.

Half an hour later, when I’d finally got rid of her and agreed to meet at some point – nothing definite, you understand, some undefined date in the future – I went down to the kitchen to make some pasta for supper. I felt a bit better. A lot better, actually. I didn’t like any unresolved aggravation with Amanda. It left me feeling anxious. As the water boiled, and I got a jar of pesto from the fridge, I tried again to recall what Maudie had said. Then I remembered. I googled it. Stared. Oh, what nonsense. I tossed my phone on the side and busied myself draining the spaghetti in the sink: a great waft of steam rose up, clouding my vision.

10

When I arrived at my parents’ house a few days later, it was not without a degree of trepidation. My breezy assurances to the rest of my family that nothing could be simpler than moving in and looking after my aged parents, transplanting my life to theirs and adapting to country living, was beginning to echo rather hollowly in my ears. Let’s just say the magnitude of what I’d done had started to dawn. As I crunched up the gravel, which boasted quite a few potholes, through the rather gloomy avenue of rhododendron bushes towards what was to be my new home, I gazed around with a critical eye, as if seeing it for the first time. The post and rails fence to the paddock beyond was broken, but then that often happened after a windy winter. The garden was overgrown, but then it had never been neat: always a rather confused and eclectic collection of low maintenance shrubs, my parents claiming to be either too busy or not terribly interested, so plus ça change there. I came to a halt some distance from the door and turned off the engine. I sat for a moment, thoughtful.

Saying goodbye to my old home had not been a problem. Pretty Fulham house though it was, I felt no sentimentality about it, and as I’d handed Josh two sets of keys I’d told him as much. I’d even given him a bright smile and said I hoped he’d be very happy there, even though I hadn’t been. He’d frowned.

‘You weren’t happy here?’