‘It may have been a team effort to begin with, but I’ve come to really enjoy your visits. It’s the least I can do. Bring your husband, wife, thirteen children, rabid dogs, whatever. We don’t mind, do we, Will?’

‘The rabid dogs might be an issue,’ Will says with a smile, lifting his head from his sketch pad. ‘I think you’re supposed to report them, but the rest should be doable. Don’t let him bully you into coming, although he does cook a mean roast.’

‘The first thing my Geraldine taught me when she realised she was getting too weak to cook,’ Jonathan explains. ‘“A man needs a decent roast dinner inside him once a week,” she’d declared. And that was that. She started with the basic roasts, then puddings, before moving on to midweek dishes. By the time she really couldn’t manage the kitchen any more, I was quite proficient.’

‘Dad does a pretty good curry too,’ Will adds.

Jonathan’s eyes crinkle in amusement. ‘I had to teach myself that one. Will’s mother was never a fan of spicy food, but he and I like them, so I just used to do something plain for her on curry nights. Maybe we’ll resurrect them now you’re home for a bit.’

‘I’d like that,’ Will tells him.

Spending time with Jonathan and Will feels like an oasis of calm in the turmoil of my own life. Although neither of them could be described as chatty, the long silences are comfortable; two people totally at ease in each other’s company. I haven’t told them anything about Luke, obviously. I don’t know either of them well enough for that, and it would feel like dumping a truckload of manure on the nicely groomed lawn of their relationship. Will, as far as I can work out, arrives every day as soon as visiting hours begin and doesn’t leave until they end. Whenever I’ve dropped by, he’s had his nose either in his sketch pad or his laptop while Jonathan either works on the crossword or reads the paper. It wouldn’t surprise me if hours sometimes pass without either of them speaking. I assume Will is working when he’s on the laptop, but I don’t know what he does. Although I won’t take Jonathan up on his lunch invitation, I can practically feel myself unwinding as I imagine him bringing out a perfectly cooked joint, with crispy roast potatoes and steaming vegetables. In fact, I may have just involuntarily sighed with pleasure, as I notice Will giving me an odd look.

‘Everything all right there?’ he asks quizzically.

‘Yes. It’s just been a busy week,’ I tell him.

‘Here’s one you should be able to get, Tilly,’ Jonathan announces, but he’s interrupted by my phone. I’m instantly on high alert, especially when I see the caller ID.