‘It’s a date.’ She waited for another laugh, but there was nothing this time.

When Heather arrived back at her mother’s house, it was to find Lillian standing at her gate, a large Tupperware box in her arms. Catching sight of Heather’s bemused expression, the old woman had the grace to look embarrassed.

‘You mustn’t think I’m poking my nose where it isn’t wanted, dear, but you look thin and I’m worried you’re not eating properly.’ When Heather opened her mouth to object, Lillian held her hand up. ‘I know, interfering old baggage, it’s not the role I wanted to play either but here we are. I can’t help worrying.’ She hefted the Tupperware box in her arms. ‘Just a traybake. Something to line your stomach. I whipped it up this morning, and then blithely assumed you would be in. I was just dithering out here, wondering if I should leave them on your doorstep like a good fairy.’

Heather thought of the pile of washing up from the night before, the lines of empty tumblers and wine glasses. She winced.

‘That’s very kind of you, Lillian. Please, come in.’

Once inside, Lillian took the box through to the kitchen and deposited it on the side, only glancing briefly at the chaos around the sink.

‘There you are. Just bread pudding, but it’s good and stodgy and if you pop some ice cream on the side it’s actually pretty good, if I do say so myself.’ She paused and laid one warm hand on Heather’s arm. ‘I’ll leave you be now, I promise, but if you do need anything at all, you will let me know, won’t you? Are you holding up, Heather? I would hate to think that you were struggling, and I know your mother would be horrified.’

The old woman’s grey eyes were sharp and steady, searching Heather’s face avidly. For a moment, Heather felt close to weeping; close to telling Lillian about everything – the bone-freezing terror when the police had called her about her mother’s suicide, the unending guilt she’d waded through every single day since her dad had died, even the haunting presence of Michael Reave. She opened her mouth, ready to spill all of it, and Lillian’s eyes widened, just slightly. For some reason, the eager expression on her face broke the spell, and instead Heather just smiled lopsidedly.

‘Thanks for checking up on me, Lillian. And for the bread pudding.’

The woman nodded, smiling as she gathered up her handbag, but Heather had the distinct impression she was disappointed.