‘It is Christmas?’ She frowned.

‘All day.’ He grinned. ‘So, how are you, love?’

‘Better now I’ve seen you,’ she said, her voice dry and whispery. ‘But you didn’t need to put yourself out on a day like this. You should be at home with Mo and the little ’uns.’

Assuming that she mustn’t have woken properly yet, Frank said, ‘Maureen’s gone, love. Don’t you remember?’

‘Gone?’ Yvonne repeated, her wispy eyebrows creeping together. ‘You don’t mean she’s left you? Oh, love, I’m so sorry. What on earth happened?’

Alarmed to realize that she thought Maureen was still alive, Frank wondered if the blow to her head had caused some kind of damage in there. If so, and he told her the truth, it might upset her, so he decided to play along instead.

‘Everything’s fine, love. Her mum’s not too well, so she went to stay with her for a few days, that’s all.’

‘Oh, right.’ Yvonne looked relieved. ‘Sorry if you’ve already told me, I’ve been forgetting things left right and centre. Must still have baby brain, eh? So, you’ll be having dinner over there with them, will you?’

‘Yeah, I’m driving over soon as I leave here,’ Frank said, wondering what she’d meant by baby brain.

‘I don’t suppose you could ask Mo to make up a plate for Don, could you?’ Yvonne asked. ‘He popped in to see me last night, and I don’t think he’s been eating properly.’

‘Course I will,’ Frank agreed, even more concerned that she thought her late husband was still alive – and that he’d visited her last night – considering it was a good ten years since he’d died.

‘Thanks, love,’ Yvonne said gratefully. ‘I feel bad for leaving him on his own, ’cos he falls to bits when I’m not there. But I can’t go home till Johnny’s strong enough to come with me.’

Frank had never heard any mention of anyone called Johnny, so he wasn’t sure who she was talking about.

‘The poor little mite was crying all night,’ Yvonne went on quietly. ‘But that miserable bugger, Matron, wouldn’t let me keep him in here in case he woke the other babies.’

‘And, um, where is he now?’ Frank asked, trying to remember if he’d ever heard mention of Yvonne and Don having a son.

‘They took him to the nursery to give me a break,’ Yvonne said, pulling a face as she added, conspiratorially, ‘More like they wanted a break. But it’s not his fault he’s poorly, is it?’

‘No, it’s not,’ Frank murmured, thinking this was all getting a bit surreal. ‘I hope he gets better soon.’