I break off now, slightly out of breath and not sure exactly where I’m going with this, and look across at Evelyn, who’s staring at me, taken aback by my outburst.

‘Look, I understand your frustrations, Olivia,’ she says, as diplomatically as ever, then adds, ‘Trust me, I don’t quite have a stick up my arse, you know.’ Which isn’t quite so diplomatic and makes me smile. ‘And I love to dance too. Strictly was one of my and Charlie’s favourite shows. It still is. Who can ever forget Harry Judd’s Viennese Waltz?’

For a moment we both fall silent as we remember.

‘But we simply don’t have the funds.’

‘What about asking the council if they could allocate more funding?’ But, even as I’m suggesting it, I know the answer.

‘With the current cuts, we’re lucky to get any funding at all.’ Evelyn sighs and leans back in her chair. ‘I think we should count our blessings, don’t you?’

‘Yes. I suppose so.’

‘You know, you actually remind me a lot of myself when I was younger,’ she says, standing up and gathering her things, and I’m not sure if I should take that as a compliment. ‘One can always want more, but one must also know when to be satisfied. You should be proud of how much we’ve achieved.’

I nod. I am. It’s just . . .

She smiles swiftly and gives me a wave. ‘No need to get up. I’ll show myself out.’

After Evelyn leaves, I sit at my laptop for a few moments longer, trying to think of another solution. Except there isn’t one. Evelyn’s right. Closing my laptop, I glance across at Harry, who’s been asleep in his basket, but is now looking at me expectantly. My eyes flick to the clock on the wall above my bookshelf: six o’clock; time for his dinner. I could set an alarm by him. My gaze drops and it’s then that I notice it. Tucked into the row of books on my shelf: the first edition that David bought me as a gift for last year’s Valentine’s Day.

Scraping back my chair, I go over and slide it from my bookshelf, carefully turning the pages. I’d wanted this book for ever. It’s one of my all-time favourites and the prose is so wonderful, and yet I haven’t looked at it since the day I received it. Too many painful memories.

Clambering out of his basket, Harry yawns and stretches, wagging his tail. Scratching his furry head, I put down the book and reach for his bowl to mix up his food. Since the fire, he gets expensive sardines to go with his kibble. The ones in olive oil.

‘There you go.’

Then I pick up my phone from the table and google the number of an antique bookshop I’d noticed next to the castle when I’d visited at Easter. This book will have cost a fortune. David never skimped on gifts, remember? Then I smile, thinking about what fun I’m going to have, turning those painful memories into good ones.