‘It’s nothing,’ she said, sipping her coffee.

‘No, to me it’s something. I know I’m in a state. I know I need to sort myself out.’

‘You can’t think too clearly when you’re grieving,’ she said, buttering a breakfast roll for me and one for herself. My son died when he was 29.’

‘How?’

‘The official cause was bacterial endocarditis. He was a heroin addict.’

‘Christ.’

‘We hadn’t been speaking. His body was found three weeks after he died by his landlord, who’d only troubled him for the rent. Not one caller, not even his mother. I’ve carried the guilt with me all around this world. And it will accompany me into the next. Whenever someone you love leaves you, or you leave them, it feels like they’ve taken a piece of you with them. And the place where that missing part is, it always hurts. I know an addict when I see one.’

‘Me? I’m not an addict.’

‘Oh, I think you are. You’re addicted to something.’

‘I’m not.’ I checked around, lowering my voice. ‘Before last night, I’d never touched hard drugs before. I met up with a guy in Porto Cristo and he… gave it to me. I’ve had a few spliffs but I’ve never snorted anything.’

‘So why last night?’ She batted her enormous eyes at me.

‘It’s none of your business,’ I snapped. ‘We’re not family. You’re not my grandmother. I had two of them and they were both cunts.’

‘Strong word,’ she said, without batting a wrinkly eyelid.

‘They were always lecturing me too. I don’t need a lecture on how bad drugs are, OK? I know. I woke up and smelled the shit I was covered in.’

‘Drink your coffee.’

‘I don’t want coffee. I want green tea.’

Within a heartbeat, Martin had been summoned to remove the offending cup and brought me a fresh pot of White Monkey Paw Green Tea, which he informed me was ‘hand-crafted using a 3,000-year-old scorching method in the Fujian Mountains’ and served with a tiny pot of heather honey.

‘Thanks,’ I said quietly, stirring my pot and leaving it to settle. There were so many elephants galloping about the room I could barely hear myself think. Caro said nothing. It said everything.

I turned my attention back towards the garden through the window. An elderly man using an electric wheelchair was wheeling around, following the curve of the path, talking to the plants.

‘I know what it’s like to lose someone you loved and feel powerless over it,’ said Caro as Martin brought the croissants and juice. ‘I see you going through the same pain I was in, the same pain my son was in. And I want to help. That’s all.’