I reach into the bag for the flowers. ‘Carnations,’ I say. ‘My granddad used to grow them in his back garden; I thought you might like them.’ She reaches to pick them up, rubbing her fingers over sugar-pink, ruffled petals. ‘I’ve never bought flowers for anyone before,’ I say. ‘Not even my old mum. In fact, handing these over is like a statement of commitment in itself, isn’t it? Before I know it we’ll be married with dogs and you’ll knit us matching jumpers.’ I stop short of suggesting names for our children. Little bit weird.

Susan looks down at the bag.

‘Grapes, do you like grapes? I know, it’s a bit stereotypical, grapes for the sick and all that. But you know… no pips. Here.’ I stuff a couple in my mouth, before attempting to say, ‘Try one.’

She reaches towards the bag, dipping in for a handful. My shoulders drop and I lean back in the chair as she takes the rest of the brown paper bag, letting it rest in her lap. ‘I popped down the market first thing – these are as fresh as you like. None of your supermarket shit.’ She looks at me. ‘Sorry.’

I reach down into the carrier bag for the not-quite-ready-to-eat bananas, placing them on her table along with squishy peaches. ‘These need eating today,’ I say. ‘They were on offer, to be fair.’ I roll the sides of another paper bag down to fashion a bowl, and try to balance all the fruit within it. As a peach topples, I realise I’ve supplied her with a small grocer’s worth. ‘You could pass some around, I suppose.’ She hands back the grapes and I add them to the pile, eating the ones that won’t sit. ‘Now, tell me,’ I say, scrunching the empty carrier into my pocket. ‘How did you sleep?’

There’s a flicker of something across her face, an involuntary answer to my question, perhaps. I wait for a second, just in case. She swallows.

‘Juice?’ I reach for the orange juice I bought her. ‘It’s got bits,’ I say, shaking it, then twisting the cap to pour her a glass.

‘Rhys!’

Kat’s voice makes me jump and I spill some of the juice.

‘Sorry, here.’ She plucks out tissues from Susan’s supply and wipes at my leg before opting to take the juice bottle and letting me mop myself up. ‘Sorry, I didn’t mean to…’ She looks at Susan. ‘He’s back!’

‘Well spotted.’ I laugh – then cough, then stuff the sodden juice tissue in my pocket. ‘I just, I was aware Susan didn’t… I wanted to help and…’ Somewhat pathetically, I point at the fruit and say, ‘I brought grapes.’ ‘Lovely…’ Kat looks from me to Susan to the fruit and then back to Susan, who I’m relieved is showing no obvious signs of distress, before looking back to me. The juice from the tissue is now seeping through my pocket. I give in and retrieve it, letting it flop into the bin.