Letting himself in through the back door after hiding the car, Frank had a wash and brushed his teeth, and then drank a cup of coffee and ate a slice of toast before getting stuck into the cleaning.

Afraid that Yvonne might be checking to see if he was back yet when the phone started ringing an hour later, he left it to go to answer-machine, but quickly snatched it up when he heard his daughter’s voice.

‘Morning, love. Did you get home all right?’

‘Obviously, or I’d be lying in a ditch somewhere instead of calling you,’ Jo replied bluntly. Then, sighing, she said, ‘Sorry, Dad; didn’t mean to snap. Sam’s arranged for a letting agent to call round this morning, and I’m stressing out because the house is an absolute mess. But never mind me . . . how are you? Did you manage to get any sleep?’

‘Like a log,’ Frank lied, deciding not to mention the tears he’d cried, because that would only make her worry. ‘I actually had a lie-in,’ he went on. ‘Didn’t wake up till Yvonne called round at ten.’

‘Wow.’ Jo sounded surprised. ‘It’s not like you to sleep so late, so you must have needed it. What did Yvonne want?’

‘She came for her bowl.’

‘Bowl?’ Jo repeated, suspicion in her voice now. ‘What bowl? Everything in that kitchen belonged to Mum, so she’d better not be trying to lay claim to anything, or I’ll—’

‘It was hers,’ Frank interrupted. ‘She’d noticed I didn’t eat much yesterday, so she called round with some stew when you and Evan had gone home.’

‘You didn’t eat it, did you?’ Jo asked. ‘She gave me a piece of cake once, and it had half a dead cockroach in it.’

‘Don’t worry, it went straight in the bin,’ Frank assured her. ‘And I know she’s only being neighbourly, so I shouldn’t complain, but like I told you and Evan last night, I don’t need looking after, so I’m hoping she’s not going to start calling round all the time to help out.’

‘Good luck with that,’ Jo snorted. ‘Anyway, subject of helping you out, that why I’m calling: to let you know I won’t be able to get over to yours till later this afternoon. Can you bear with the mess till then?’

‘I’ve already taken care of it,’ Frank told her. ‘And I was actually thinking I could pop over to help you. There must be loads to do if you’re leaving in two weeks.’

‘I’d rather you didn’t,’ Jo said sheepishly. ‘No offence, Dad, but I’ve got a routine, and you’ll only get under my feet.’

‘Like mother like daughter,’ Frank chuckled, remembering the way Maureen had always shooed him out of the kitchen whenever he’d tried to help.