My phone pinged with a text from Marcia. Send list of past lovers, locations and any other details before work starts up in the New Year and takes us all over. Pete has some spare time and can get on the case of looking for your exes plus continuing to look for Billy and Grace. MX

She was not going to let it go, and I knew I’d get no peace until I wrote a list for her, so I opened a new page on my laptop and began to write.

1) Aged 10 years: Andrew Murphy. St Mark’s, Manchester. Preferred my friend Denise.

2) 15 years: Mark Crosby. Manchester. Had a schoolgirl crush on him, along with most of the girls in our year – you included, Marcia, remember? Not worth pursuing as I don’t think I ever even spoke to him.

3) 15. Kevin Grisham. Manchester. My first proper boyfriend and we swore to love each other for ever. His family moved away when he was sixteen – I seem to remember it was to Devon. I was heartbroken for months and we wrote for a while then it faded. Don’t know where he is now.

My trip down memory lane was disturbed by the doorbell. Heather. ‘Hey, you look great Bea, fab tan,’ she said as she came inside, gave me a hug, then took off her red coat and fuchsia pink scarf. ‘God, it’s freezing out there.’

‘You look good too,’ I said. She always did; she was a fireball of energy, which was reflected in her colourful style, shoulder-length glossy red hair, green eyes and pink and navy polka-dot vintage dress that nipped in at the waist then flared over her hips, teamed with a pale green short cardi.

She pinched her stomach and groaned. ‘No I don’t, I’ve eaten and drunk far too much over Christmas and must start on some sort of detox soon or my liver’s going to explode.’ Heather was always on some sort of diet; not that she needed to be but, like most women I knew, she wasn’t happy with her shape which was naturally curvy. ‘You’re lucky, you never put on weight. I look like a stuffed pig.’

‘Rubbish. Stop it. New Year’s resolution for you this year is to stop being so self-critical.’

She made a face. ‘Why change the habit of a lifetime? Anyway, enough of me and my crap, it’s boring. Today’s the day of reckoning, right?’

‘It is,’ I said, as I indicated the letters that were lying on the dining table. ‘One was waiting for me when I got back from India and another came today. I’ve been putting off opening them until you got here or I could see Stuart for his input. A trouble shared is a trouble halved, and all that.’

‘Coffee and catch-up first or shall we get the letters over with?’