Waiting for him to reach his seat, I placed his cup and the plate on his side table and held on to mine as I sat and leant the tray against my chair. He was still making his way across the room, wanting to talk but unable to do both in unison.

‘Take your time, Edward.’ I turned to the window. There you were in your bedroom. Freshly showered. Spritzing your scent. Even for poker night. Loving yourself.

He finally dropped into his chair, making a noise as if the action had winded him, and waited for his breathing to settle. ‘She said I’m doing marvellously . . . Insisting I see the doctor this week, though. Before you start nagging the hell out of me, I’ve agreed. She’s been amazing, Maxine. It’s the least I could do for her. She’s really put herself out for me.’

‘Sounds like you won’t need my visits anymore. Not with wonderful-actually-getting-paid-to-do-her-job-yet-apparently-putting-herself-out-so-much Maxine.’ I bit down on a fig roll.

He picked up the paper that lay folded on the arm of his chair. ‘Don’t be so bloody ridiculous. I’ll always need your visits, Constance.’ He put on his glasses. ‘I live for your visits.’

I turned towards the window, not for you but so as not to expose how much that meant to me. ‘Well, if you want me to still come over, you’ll need to improve on your tea-making. This is the worst brew I’ve ever had.’

We sat in silence as he scribbled on the crossword grid and I looked out, observed. You were applying product to your hair. You hadn’t done that before. I preferred it soft, natural.

After a while I stood to gather the cups onto the tray. And when I next glanced, you were leaving the front door hurriedly. Then you got into your car and drove off.

On the way to the kitchen, carrying both the tray and the empty feeling I always had when watching you came to an end, I felt a period drag in my stomach. After dumping the tray, I returned to the lounge to get my bag. Edward was talking as I entered.

‘A deliberate act of betrayal?’

‘Sorry?’

‘Seven down. “Eat cherry pie as a deliberate act of betrayal”?’

‘I’m terrible at crosswords.’

‘Nine letters. Begins with “T”.’

‘I don’t know . . . Treachery?’

‘Treachery. No, it’s not . . . Oh, it is right. An anagram of “eat cherry”. Well, you’re clearly better at them than you think.’

I headed to the toilet. Another room scrubbed and disinfected by my own hands. As suspected, my knickers were stained, though thankfully nothing had seeped through my trousers. I unzipped the inside pocket of the bag to retrieve my emergency tampon. I couldn’t find it at first. My fingers were circling something cold and hard.

Your keys.