‘Jocelyn.’ A single word spoken with as much love and longing as an entire Elizabeth Barrett Browning sonnet.

‘How long were you married?’

‘Just three years. Jocelyn didn’t want a civil partnership. He was holding out for a proper wedding and luckily, he lived long enough for us to have one. But we were together for much longer than that. I first met him when I was twenty-one. We used to joke that I was his toy boy and he was my sugar daddy. He bought me this piano for my fiftieth birthday. You wouldn’t believe the palaver we had getting it through the front door.’ Henry glanced towards the empty chair. ‘He used to sit there and listen to me play,’ he added, almost to himself.

The kitchen was a hotchpotch of painted pine cupboards. The floor was gently uneven as though at some point in the past a minor earth tremor had caused the quarry tiles to undulate, and as a result the small Formica-topped table was propped up under one leg with a slim volume entitled Fish and Fowl Recipes for Thrifty Housewives to keep it steady.

‘Before I make the tea, you must come and see my girls.’

Henry led Billie through a glazed door at the back of the kitchen into the garden, which was an odd shape of more than four sides, the name of which Billie couldn’t remember. Geometry had never been her forte. Positioned as it was at the bottom of the cul-de-sac, the bungalow’s garden appeared to consist of the remnant of land that remained once the other gardens had been allocated. There was a small patio with a round table and two wrought-iron bistro chairs overlooking a rather ragged lawn and a couple of flowerbeds containing shrubs and rose bushes. Beyond that, attached to a brick-built shed, stood a large wood and wire fence enclosure. Inside, three plump chickens were contentedly preening, clucking and pecking at the wood chips scattered on the ground.

‘Meet Minnie Caldwell, Hilda Ogden and Ena Sharples,’ said Henry with obvious affection.

Billie smiled. ‘I assume that you’re a Coronation Street fan?’

‘Not anymore. But as a kid, I was brought up on it!’

Billie squatted down to take a closer look. Minnie was the smallest of the three. She had blonde feathers speckled with white and retreated nervously as Billie leaned closer to the wire fencing. Hilda was a bright chestnut brown and, unable to contain her curiosity, she swaggered over to inspect their visitor. Ena was the size and shape of a small pumpkin and the colour of dark chocolate. She sat amongst the wood chippings watching Billie with unconcealed suspicion. Their names suited them very well.