‘I’m ready for my prunes now.’ Edward was dabbing the corners of his mouth with a spotted silk handkerchief as I entered the room. Compared to the newly spruced kitchen, his bedroom seemed even more cluttered and dusty.

‘So, Edward, what’s the story with that car battery on top of the wardrobe? I presume it’s not in the beautiful category.’

‘Ah . . . well, dear Constance, I never said the system wasn’t flawed.’

‘It’s ridiculous – you need to get rid of some stuff . . . Anyway, I’ve cleaned the kitchen a bit,’ I said, picking up the empty soup bowl.

‘What? Well, you shouldn’t have.’

‘I had to. It was rank.’

‘I like it like that.’

‘No, you don’t. You’ll like it now.’

When I brought him the prunes and custard, I enjoyed how his eyes lit up. Though I watched nervously as he crammed them into his mouth.

‘For Christ’s sake, be careful of the stones. I’m not going back to hospital.’

‘Thank you for the advice. Yet I’ve managed to eat prunes for over eighty years without dying yet.’

‘Right, well, I can’t watch. I’m going outside for a cigarette.’

‘Outside?’ He wiped a globule of custard hanging from his beard. ‘Just hang out of the window, dear girl.’

‘I’m not sure—’

‘Don’t be stupid. I’ll not inhale it from here. I can barely breathe in at all – do you think I can suck it up from the lounge? Though I thoroughly disapprove. You should bloody well pack them in.’ The spoon dropped back into the custard.

‘OK, I’ll do that. Use the window, I mean.’

The thought of seeing you energized me, and I needed the distraction from the episode in the kitchen.

The sash window was so stiff I almost gave up trying to open it.

‘Give it some welly,’ Edward shouted, which led to a cough.

When I eventually pushed it up, the cold air punched me.

I lit the beautiful stick. Then, fearful you would see me, I concealed myself with the dusty curtains and leant against the windowsill next to a macabre clown figurine complete with glass balloons.

Sitting there, I had one of those thoughts. You know, when you worry that you’ll jump without really wanting to. So I held on to the curtain for safety.

It wasn’t long before the show began.

You came into view with only a towel around your bottom half. Hair wet. When you threw yourself down on the sofa, you appeared to be talking without your hand raised to your ear. At first, I thought perhaps you were using Bluetooth. But it wasn’t that, was it? There was someone with you. Someone out of my view. And you wouldn’t be half naked with your legs spread in a towel for one of your mates.

Smoke caught on my throat, making me gag.