It didn’t matter how often he assured her that he wouldn’t be embarrassed by taking her to the bathroom, that he had done it for Diana, she was adamant that that was different. ‘Diana was your wife; intimacy was an established bond between the two of you. No such thing should ever exist between a mother and a son and that is my final word on the subject.’

There was no persuading her and with her mind also made up on the location where she was to spend her final days, he set about researching care homes on the West Sussex coast. It was here that she had lived as a child and where she had met Ellis’s father. Dying in Borehamwood, where she had lived for the last sixty-odd years, was apparently unacceptable.

The only care home he’d found that he felt sure would look after Rose well enough was inevitably the most expensive. He took her to view it and she gave it her seal of approval. She had been here since early February and despite the quality of care provided, it was clear that she was failing fast.

Which was why he’d taken the step to move down to West Sussex so he could spend as much time as possible with her while he still could. Retirement had been just around the corner for him anyway, so he decided to quit a couple of years earlier than planned. Financially he had everything in order and with no real plans in place since returning to London from New York, he looked for a modest property to rent a short drive away from Rose. Waterside Cottage had fitted the bill perfectly.

On a bitterly cold February morning, two days after he’d moved in, he had stood at the end of his new garden surveying the beautiful harbour view the cottage afforded him. The tide had been in, which meant there was only a narrow strip of shoreline between him and the water’s edge. To his right, and in the distance, he saw the lone figure of a woman in a red hat and a red puffa jacket, hands pushed into pockets, walking along the shoreline. He had the strangest feeling that he recognised her, that he knew her. It was something about the way she moved, her head held high, her unhurried pace steady and even as though she had all the time in the world. Curiosity made him stay where he was until he’d figured out why he was experiencing the sensation he was. She was steering a course towards the house next door when it came to him.

‘Naomi?’ he called out, hardly able to believe his eyes. ‘It is, isn’t it?’

She slowed her step and looked over to him. ‘I’m sorry, do I know—’ Then she let out a gasp and put a hand to her mouth. ‘Ellis? What are you doing here?’

‘I’m living here.’ He gave the gate a tap, as though claiming ownership of it. ‘I moved in two days ago.’