Frank lifted the larger coals out of the fire and made sure the embers were safely contained. Then, stuffing his hands into his trouser pockets, he gazed at the photograph of Maureen again. She had loved the peace and quiet as much as he had, and they had both enjoyed sitting in here of an evening: Maureen knitting and doing crosswords, while Frank scoured the internet for spares to renovate the old cars that now occupied the barn where his cows had once been housed. Now it would just be him, and his heart ached at the thought.

Sighing, Frank switched off the lights and went out into the hall. The doorbell rang as he was about to head up the stairs and, thinking one of the kids must have forgotten something, he opened the door without checking, only to find Yvonne Caldwell, from the cottage at the other end of the lane, standing in the porch with a foil-covered dish in her hands.

‘Evening, love.’ She smiled out at him from the circle of fur edging the hood of her coat. ‘I saw your Jo and Evan driving past and thought I’d pop round to check how you’re doing? And to give you this . . .’ She thrust the dish into his hands. ‘It’s nothing special; only a spot of stew I had left over from tea last night. I noticed you didn’t really eat much earlier, so I thought you’d probably be hungry by now.’

Frank wasn’t hungry, but he didn’t want to appear ungrateful, so he said, ‘Thanks, love. Much appreciated.’

‘You’re welcome,’ Yvonne said, pulling the collar of her coat around her chin to shield it from the wind. ‘It was a lovely send-off, wasn’t it? Great to see so many people paying their respects. Mo would have been pleased by the turnout.’

‘She would,’ Frank agreed. ‘Anyway, I’d bes—’

‘I don’t think she’d have been too impressed with that vicar waffling on like that, though,’ Yvonne continued. ‘No offence, because I know your Mo took her religion seriously, but I reckon she’d have been as bored as everyone else was.’

‘Probably,’ Frank said, pretending to stifle a yawn in the hope that Yvonne would take the hint and go home.

‘Your Evan’s speech was very moving, though, wasn’t it?’ she went on, as if she hadn’t noticed. ‘He had me in tears a couple of times. Oh, and didn’t your Jo’s girl look a picture, all dressed up like a little doll?’

‘She’s bonny, all right,’ said Frank. ‘Anyway, I’d best get this inside.’ He held up the dish. ‘Thanks again.’

‘My pleasure,’ said Yvonne. Then, tipping her head to one side, she peered at him thoughtfully. ‘I could always come in and warm it up for you, if you like? Give you a chance to put your feet up.’