‘I’m glad,’ Hilary says, surprised at the conviction she feels, so strong it brings a lump to her throat. ‘It’s just what that house needs. To be filled with the joyous, raucous noise of young boys.’

As her energy returns, she starts to look closely at her own surroundings. A desire has been growing inside her to make more of her home, to make it feel loved once more. Little things, like freshening the paint on the woodwork, buying some new scatter cushions for the sofa in the sitting room, finally getting a plumber to fix the slow leak under the kitchen sink. The garden doesn’t escape her attention either. The final flourish of summer has bloomed and faded, and even though it has always been Greg’s domain in terms of maintenance, Hilary finds herself relishing the opportunity to cut back and to prune. The outdoor work makes her feel enlivened, vigorous. She slices away the dead and dying, plants spring bulbs, considers new growth – renewal. In her new-found enthusiasm, she resolves to dig up the dying mini-fuchsia and replace it with something: a rosebush, or perhaps another hydrangea.

In the end she chooses a camellia. She is just returning from the garden centre in her car, the camellia on the back seat ready to be unpotted and planted, when she sees the couple climbing the steps to Number 14. For a moment, she sits in the car, the engine still running, and watches as they unlock the front door and go inside. The young man is Mark, and the woman with him – she’s sure of it – is Leah.

Hilary switches off the engine and gets out. After a moment’s hesitation, she crosses the road and climbs the steps. That same hesitation is there when she reaches for the door-knocker, trepidation running through her at the prospect of returning to a place she had sworn off for ever.

‘Oh, hello,’ she says to Mark, when he opens the door. ‘I hope you don’t mind, but I just saw you there and thought I’d come over.’

His face loses some of its wariness, and he opens the door wider. Behind him, Leah is standing with her hands in the pockets of her raincoat, her eyes wide and watchful amid the bones of her thin face.

‘Hilary,’ she says softly. Then the blankness disappears from her stare and her mouth broadens slowly into a smile. ‘It’s so good to see you.’

Mark closes the door behind her and steps past. Hilary sees him touching Leah’s sleeve, hears him say: ‘I’ll just go and check out the back. Will you be okay?’

‘Sure. I’m fine.’

Once he’s gone, Leah’s attention turns back to Hilary. She reads the speculation in Hilary’s expression and smiles shyly. ‘It’s not what you think. We’re just friends.’