‘Say no more, say no more, my love. We know today’s not gonna be easy for you and we just wanted to tell you that we love you. Pick a date, any date, and we’ll take you for a meal, pretend it’s your birthday. Or we could get a Chinese banquet …’

There’s another scuffle; more muffled voices. I pull the phone away from my ear.

‘Chloe? You still there?’ It’s my mum again. ‘Now what car have they got?’

‘Mum, I’ve really got to go—’

‘Why? Is she there? Trish? Is she … Hiya Trish!’

‘She’s not here, Mum! I’m sat in Beth’s car.’

‘Well get out then, soft girl! What you doing sat in Beth’s car?’

God, how I wish I could hang up.

‘You know, we’ve been thinking about Trish a lot lately, haven’t we, Bernie?’ my mum says. ‘She hasn’t been on the telly since … you know.’

‘I know.’ Although in truth, I only realise now. I look through the driver seat window towards the house. So much sadness will have taken place in there: the loss of a son. A child. It doesn’t matter that Jack was thirty-eight when he died. He was Trish and John’s child. No wonder she hasn’t been on the bloody telly since. I’m surprised she’s left her bed.

‘Anyway, give her all our love,’ my mum says, and my dad reiterates it in the background.

‘She’ll be thrilled,’ I say. ‘Bye Mum, bye Dad. Love you millions.’

‘Love you more,’ they say in unison.

I walk up the front garden path and don’t need to ring the doorbell. John Carmichael is sitting in an armchair by the front window and gives me a cheery wave. He stands and calls out, but I can’t hear what he says. He’s in a warm woollen jumper, a small zip pulled up beneath his chin. He waves again and as I return the gesture, the door opens.

‘Freddie – hiya!’ I say. I’d presumed I’d never see this fella again.

‘Hey. Come in. I can’t tell you to make yourself at home, though. This isn’t my house. I don’t live here. Not any more,’ he says, not making eye contact. He’s lost weight and looks very much like he does live here. He’s wearing a dressing gown and slippers. ‘I’m just here for a few days. Got my own place, river view.’

‘That sounds lovely, Freddie.’