Still grieving for Maureen, and now missing Jo and Emily as well, Frank only left the house if he absolutely had to during the next three months. Evan hadn’t called round since the funeral – mainly because Frank had asked him not to; and the few conversations they’d had on the phone had been brief. Jo, who had always been better at keeping in touch than her brother, had phoned every Sunday for the first few weeks, but that had gradually petered out, and Frank felt truly alone for the first time in his life. He had no desire to ‘join some groups and meet new people’ – as Jo had ordered him to do before she’d left. And he had neither the energy nor the motivation to resume renovating the cars in his barn, which had once been his passion. Most days, he couldn’t even be bothered to get dressed, and he was sitting in his stained pyjamas with a glass of whisky in his hand when he got a rare phone call from his son early in November.

‘All right, Pops,’ Evan said cheerily, as if it hadn’t been weeks since they had last spoken. ‘What you up to?’

Ashamed to admit that he was wasting another day away watching mind-numbingly boring daytime TV, Frank said, ‘Just cracking on with some jobs around the house.’

‘Great stuff,’ Evan said – sounding relieved, Frank thought, that he wasn’t wallowing in grief. ‘I won’t keep you if you’re busy,’ he went on. ‘I only wanted to let you know we’re having Christmas dinner at ours this year.’

Frank couldn’t think of anything worse. Not only would this be his first Christmas in some forty-plus years without Maureen, he would now be subjected to a day of being growled at and eyeballed by the mangy dog his daughter-in-law treated like the child she’d never had.

‘I’m not sure what I’ll be doing yet,’ he said evasively. ‘I’ll have to let you know nearer the time.’

‘Marie’s already started organizing it, and she needs to know how many she’s cooking for,’ said Evan. ‘Anyway, what you on about – you don’t know what you’ll be doing? We’re the only family you’ve got left, so you’ll be spending it with us – end of.’

‘I’ll let you know,’ Frank repeated. ‘Now, is that all? Only I’m in the middle of something here.’

‘Cut me off, why don’t you?’ Evan snorted.

‘Sorry,’ Frank sighed. ‘But you know what it’s like when you stop halfway through a job – it’s really hard to get started again.’

‘All right, I’ll get off and leave you in peace,’ Evan conceded. ‘But can I ask you a favour first?’

‘What kind of favour?’ Frank asked warily, taking a swig of whisky.