The meal was finished and Sandra helped her mother to clear the table. She probably didn’t want help, but Sandra felt she exploited her parents enough as it was, and at least tried to do her share. Coming here and eating so many nights a week seemed immature, but that was how all the other involved parties wanted it. She didn’t want to take that joy away from them, even if it didn’t exactly score her any adult brownie points.

“Volunteer work again this evening?” her mother asked.

“Of course. If I’ve got nothing better on, then I give my time to Friends-on-call.”

“Isn’t it hard work? Doesn’t it clash with your actual job? Surely you need to rest just like everyone else.”

“It’s not all that onerous,” Sandra reassured her. “I feel like I’m making a difference and that’s important to me. Almost therapeutic.”

“If you need therapy you can always come to me, dear.”

“I know that, Mum, and I have all the support I need from you two. But it feels good to help others. To comfort and care.”

“Isn’t it just a load of mucky old so-and-sos who call?”

“Mucky old so-and-sos?” Sandra laughed, putting the frying pan down in the sink. “No, definitely not. It’s mostly sad people who call. Lonely, perhaps frightened people who don’t feel they have anyone else to turn to with their thoughts and worries.”

“Isn’t it a great drain acting as a sponge for other people’s misery?”

“No, Mum. Quite the opposite. Your own troubles often seem trivial when you hear other people’s stories.”

“Troubles?” said her mother, frowning. “Aren’t things going your way?”

“Less and less,” said Sandra truthfully. “Almost never. But I have you and I have Erik. I have a varied job and colleagues I like. What more can I expect?”

“Well, if you say so,” her mother sighed, without sounding altogether convinced.

It wouldn’t be long before the question of whether Erik could stay the night with his grandparents came up. Sandra put the final bits and pieces in the dishwasher and wiped the kitchen counter.

“You know that we’re more than happy for Erik to spend the night here? To give you a little alone time.”

Sandra vaguely grasped that “alone time” had something to do with blokes and, by extension, wedding bells. That kind of pressure got a little tiring in the long run, but it was nothing she couldn’t put up with.

“I know, Mum,” she replied. “But I also love having Erik around me. Bathing him, brushing his teeth, and reading him a bedtime story. I like to know he is sleeping in his room as I do grown-up stuff. Thanks all the same—but not tonight.”

AN ELDERLY MAN whose dog had been run over was the evening’s first caller to Friends-on-call. He talked freely, not afraid to lay bare his feelings. He just needed someone to listen, and Sandra did. Occasionally, she would insert the odd encouraging rejoinder, and after around twenty minutes the man had talked it out.