On the phone, she is cautious, but I think pleased to hear from me. She tells me she’s hired a full-time bodyguard and that he makes her feel safe. Without premeditation, I outsmart myself by asking her to come for dinner. There must be something in the freezer I can use, I think. Perhaps she’d be happy with an omelette. Perhaps not. She agrees to come, and asks if there’s anything she can bring. Casual as you like, I say, ‘Not a thing.’ My mouth seems to do what it wants. I already know I was kidding myself thinking there might be something worthwhile in my freezer. Dinner will mean a trip to town for wine, main-course ingredients, and some cheeses and nibbly stuff.

My first job is to tackle the sink, and the dishes that never made it to the dishwasher and now line the bench. I fill the dishwasher, then wash up the remaining stacks. I change the water in the sink twice, leaving my hands pink and wrinkled. Then comes the trip to town.

As I drive, I ask myself, Am I trying to impress Elaine, or asking her to absolve me? Midway through that phone conversation, after I’d stunned myself with the invitation, I knew I was going to be trying (insanely) for something like understated sophistication: no trouble taken, but exquisite results. ‘I do this sort of thing all the time.’

This is remarkable, considering I have just cleaned my house for the first time in some weeks, and given that my recent cooking decisions have involved choosing between the microwave and the oven for heating frozen meals — sausage rolls and party pies par excellence. I did cook a bit, back in the good old days, and I’m guessing the internet can walk me through it if I can’t remember how.

Waterglen has a couple of pretty good supermarkets. When I can be bothered to shop at all, I buy my groceries at eight in the morning, as soon as they open, because it is a good time to avoid seeing people. I know the drill. I won’t meet up with parents of school-age children, because they’re too busy organising for school; locals looking to buy a couple of things and have a chat won’t arrive until midmorning; people hunting for last-minute meal solutions at the end of the day still have many hours’ grace; and farmers in town for parts or fertiliser that have been sent to the supermarket with a list won’t wander around, lost in the aisles, until well after lunch.