‘Her name’s Irena, and she got separated from her mates on a night out and had a fall,’ Frank said, merging the lies he’d already told Yvonne and Jo in case they compared notes. ‘I found her out by the barn and brought her in to get warm – exactly as your mother would have done.’

‘Chill out, Pops, I wasn’t accusing you of anything.’ Evan smirked. ‘I know you’d never cheat on Mum. Although, technically, it wouldn’t be cheating now she’s gone, would it?’

‘Nothing’s going on, so get it out of your head,’ Frank said gruffly as he finished making the teas his son had started.

‘Never say never,’ said Evan. ‘You’re still young enough to start again, and Mum would want you to be happy.’

Frank didn’t reply to that. It was true that Maureen wanted him to find love again, because she’d told him so on numerous occasions during her last few weeks. But he wasn’t ready to think that far ahead, so he changed the subject, asking: ‘How’s Marie getting on with her Christmas preparations?’

‘Don’t ask.’ Evan rolled his eyes. ‘She seems to think she’s in competition with Mum, and she’s been writing lists of all the ingredients she’s going to need. I told her not to bother, ’cos she’ll never compare to Mum, and she proper went off on one.’

‘What did you expect?’ Frank asked, handing a cup to him before taking a seat on the other side of the table. ‘You should never compare your wife to your mother, and if you want a stress-free life you’d better go home and tell her you were joking.’

‘Stress-free – with Marie?’ Evan pulled a face. ‘Are you kidding me?’

‘You chose to marry her.’

‘Yeah, well, I wish someone had talked me out of it.’

‘What’s that supposed to mean? Are you two having problems?’

‘Nothing a quick visit to a divorce lawyer wouldn’t fix,’ Evan snorted.

‘Surely it’s not that bad?’

Evan looked at Frank and pursed his lips as if he wanted to confide something. Then, seeming to think better of it, he shrugged.

‘Nah, we’re all right. I’m just fed up of her ramming all this Christmas stuff down my throat. If I had my way I’d cancel it, ’cos it won’t be the same without Mum.’

‘You’re not wrong there,’ Frank agreed, gazing over at the Aga and picturing Maureen standing there in her pinny with a paper crown on her head – her Christmas uniform, as she’d called it.

A tap at the door brought him out of his reverie, and he gave Irena a questioning look when she looked in.

‘Are you all right, love?’

‘I am tire, so I think I will go to bed,’ she said. ‘Is OK if I take shower first?’