My eyes prickle with tears. Maybe I’m due my period soon.

‘I’m so sorry, Dorothy.’

‘It’s OK. I do miss him. But it was a long time ago, Olive. He is in my photo albums at least. Although it does hurt to look at them,’ she adds, looking out of the window of the cab.

She pauses. ‘My husband and I, we had such a wonderful life together. Boy, did we travel and see things.’

‘That’s wonderful.’

‘And you know: so many friends of mine, in the same state I am in, they don’t see their kids either. It’s very sad. Their children have either moved away and aren’t really close any more, or sometimes they’re just emotionally distant. You know, people often believe that having children means unconditional love guaranteed, and someone to care for you as you get older. It’s just not the case.’

‘Well, I’m just glad you texted me,’ I say, trying not to well up again.

‘We’re all human beings aren’t we. I knew you’d help if I asked.’

‘Of course.’

I like helping Dorothy and being available for her. I am really warming to her. I feel myself softening, slowly letting people back in.

I think I’ll go so far as to say she is my friend.

I have decided to try and ‘meet new people’. Not in a dramatic way, just so I can leave the girls to it for a little while. Give them some room to breathe. It’s clichéd, maybe, but I have signed myself up for a ‘class’ in a couple of days’ time. I had a look on Groupon and good deals for improv classes kept resurfacing. Sounds like something failed actors do on weekends, but learning to make things up on the spot with a bunch of new people could be fun. So much has been going on lately, but I finally feel like I’m coming out of the other side and willing to try new things. It’s time to properly move on, and maybe that means getting out of my comfort zone. I also look up ‘the benefits’ online and it says it’s good for mental health, relieves anxiety, boosts creativity and encourages you to ‘let go’. That’s what my reflexologist told me once: she could feel a sign somewhere in my feet that I struggle to let go, insinuating that I have bowel problems: ‘You need to let go, you know, when you go the toilet, and in life.’ What a beautiful motivational quote that is! On paper, improv is my worst nightmare, because I often find comedians quite depressingly desperate. But I’m in need of a Cheryl Strayed in Wild moment, minus the 2,000-mile hike, obviously. Maybe this will be mine.

My buzzer rings and it’s Isla, waiting on my doorstep with a big leather overnight bag and a squishy travel pillow.

‘What’s up?’ I ask as I let her into the flat, taking her coat and guiding her to the sofa. Her face looks puffy and her eyes sore from crying.