He didn’t expect many people to come – putting the notice in the window was really a ticking of a box: what people do when someone dies. He and Gisele had always been one of those couples that you never see without the other. Nowadays they’d probably call it being codependent, but the simple fact was they didn’t need anyone else; they were happiest in each other’s company. Valentine said that on their day trips in the camper van, one of them would start singing and the other would automatically join in the melody, singing the descant or adding a riff. They harmonized with each other, not just in song, but in life too.

It’s one of those unseasonably warm days in September when summer has second thoughts and decides it’s not quite ready to give centre stage to autumn. Blue skies and sunshine greet the three of us as we walk along the small path from Valentine’s bungalow and descend the hill into the village for Gisele’s celebration.

Harry is coming with us too. Having seen him on the national news, the vicar made no objection to him attending the service, instead making some comment about welcoming all creatures great and small. As the cobbled lane leads us towards the entrance to the church, Valentine asks to hold Harry’s lead. He needs to do something with his hands, which have been flapping around like a trapped bird all morning. I don’t think I’ve ever seen him so nervous. I loop my arm through his supportively.

‘Are you all right?’

He’s quiet for a moment, his expression unreadable. ‘I was just thinking. I don’t have any family left. It’s only me now.’ He says it so plainly it almost breaks my heart.

‘You’ve got me and Harry,’ I say firmly. ‘We’re your family.’

He manages a smile, but his red-rimmed eyes betray him. I hold him tighter. Normally so stout, Valentine suddenly seems so fragile.

‘Afterwards we can go to the pub, just us three, and raise a glass to Gisele,’ I continue as we gather pace.

He looks grateful. ‘That’ll be grand.’

I haven’t said anything, but I’m hoping for at least a small turn-out. Evelyn has promised to be there, and Ben replied to my text to say he’s coming too. It sounds silly, but I noticed there wasn’t a kiss at the end of his text. Sadly, Gisele’s sister, Agnès, who lives in Paris, isn’t well enough to make the journey, but apparently her son is going to try and make it. And I’ve had confirmation from some old friends in Leeds, and from a couple of nurses at the care home. Even if only a small handful of people come to pay their respects, it will mean a lot to Valentine. He pretends he doesn’t care, but I know he does.

The vicar is waiting for us as we turn the corner. He smiles kindly and steps forward to greet us. I’ve never been particularly religious, but today I feel a burst of gratitude for his reassuring presence.