‘Oh, no,’ Jo groaned as her doorbell chimed in the background. ‘The letting agent’s early, and I’m nowhere near ready for him.’

‘You can’t pack up ten years’ worth of belongings without making a mess, love,’ Frank said. ‘I’m sure he’ll have seen worse.’

‘I don’t want him seeing it like this and thinking it’ll be OK to shove any old scruff-bag tenants in,’ Jo replied edgily. ‘We’ve worked really hard on making the house nice, and we want people who’ll treat it with respect.’

‘Stop flapping,’ Frank said calmly. ‘Everything will work out fine.’

Jerking the phone away from his ear when Jo yelled, ‘All right, I’m coming!’ at the sound of her bell ringing again, Frank said, ‘Love, go and let him in. I’ll speak to you later.’

He replaced the receiver in its cradle and shook his head as he picked up the bags of rubbish and carried them out to the bin. Jo had two weeks to sort the house out, but, as usual, she was trying to do everything at once, and her stress levels would be through the roof by the end of it. Still, there was nothing he could do if she didn’t want his help, so he’d just have to leave her to it.

3

The two weeks’ notice Jo had given Frank flew by, and before he knew it, she’d jetted off with her little family to start their new life in the sun. She rang the following afternoon to tell him they had arrived safely, that the weather was fantastic, and the house was amazing, with its own swimming pool and three enormous en-suite bedrooms. As happy as Frank was for her, the realization that he wasn’t going to see her again for two years settled over him like a lead weight, and the future began to look like a bleak and lonely place.