I thought about what Nana Joy had said, once Adam had returned with his guitar and we were walking over to the main house to find an empty music room. Not about it being her swan song, although that painful truth was a bruise upon my heart. I thought about her life spent doing what she loved, and how despite the lack of accolades – or money! – the performances she treasured were those spent with the people she cared about the most.

Melody had sent an email containing various forms to complete along with a detailed work contract for me to sign. The salary felt almost criminal. The additional perks were overwhelming. I’d be given the opportunity to research and present various extended features.

I’d be able to do what I was doing now - stroll alongside Adam, each of us content to be lost in our own thoughts - without having to schedule in trains and book days off and stress about last-minute changes of plans.

While it was only sensible to be cautious when it came to Adam, and to take things, if there even was going to be anything, slowly, that should have no bearing on whether I accepted such an incredible job. And Baxter Bigwood offering it to me despite me walking out on him allayed most of my fears about whether I’d be able to be myself or not.

I’d get those forms completed first thing tomorrow.

For now, I had yet another Armstrong-mandated humiliation to prepare for.

It was like stepping back in time, walking into the Charis House hall that evening. Unlike most school halls, this one had thick stone walls with intricately carved coving and a ceiling covered in geometric patterns rather than fibreglass tiles and ugly strip-lights.

The smell, so uniquely home, awakened a stream of different memories and feelings. Ancient floorboards and musty drapes, the eight-foot spruce tree dominating one corner. This year, the pupils had chosen a sixties theme, in honour of Joy Papplewick. Their retrospective interpretation of this included paper chains criss-crossing the ceiling, masses of shiny tinsel, and multicoloured fairy lights wound around the pillars and window frames. The walls were lined with posters of Nana Joy’s earlier musicals, but the highlight was the stage, which had been framed to appear like a giant, retro television, so that the performers would appear to be on screen.