‘Hello, is that Harrison’s Rare and Collectable Books? Hi, yes, I wondered if you could help me. I have a first edition I’d like to sell . . .’

Valentine

‘A dance at the village hall?’

Valentine stopped digging a hole in the plant pot and turned to stare at her.

‘Yes. I’ve already booked the band. They’re a sort of tribute band and do all the Bill Haley hits and some swing too. Anything and everything, really.’ Her words came tumbling out excitedly. ‘They’re called “Shake, Rattle and Roll”.’

Kneeling next to him on his patio, Olivia gave a sort of jazz-hands wave in her thick yellow gardening gloves.

‘Isn’t that a brilliant name?’ She grinned. ‘Everyone can dress up, and there’s going to be a bar selling beer and cocktails. It should be really fun. You know, it’s because of you that I got the idea? You inspired me with your stories about you and Gisele.’

‘Well, I’ll be damned.’

Putting down his trowel, Valentine shook his head and stared at the flagstones. When he looked up, her smile had faded and she looked troubled.

‘Is that a good or a bad thing?’

‘It’s a marvellous thing,’ he reassured her, but she obviously didn’t believe him as she clutched her forehead with a giant glove and let out a groan.

‘Oh God, I’m sorry. I haven’t gone and been totally insensitive, have I?’

‘Don’t be daft,’ he tutted, frowning. ‘It’s . . . well, I don’t have anyone to take to a dance, do I?’

It just came out, but as soon as he’d said it, Valentine wished he hadn’t. She’d been so excited about telling him all about it, and now he’d gone and spoiled it.

‘Well, I’m free, though I know that’s not much of a consolation.’ She gave him a small smile, almost an apology. ‘Plus I’m pretty rubbish. I fell over last time you tried to teach me to jive.’

As he looked at Olivia, Valentine could almost hear Gisele’s voice, telling him off for feeling sorry for himself. ‘Well, don’t just sit there, do something about it,’ she would say to him, and he would always grumble and grouch, annoyed that he wasn’t allowed to wallow in his own misery and indulge in the unfairness of it all, while grudgingly appreciating her tough love. It made him both sad and happy to think of her. He missed her – by ’eck, did he miss her – but the sad truth was he’d spent the last few years missing her. So many times he’d felt like a widower. Only now, it was official.

‘Best start practising then, hadn’t we?’ he replied and watched Olivia’s face brighten. More happy than sad, he decided.

They’d spent the morning at the big garden centre on the edge of town, buying compost and spring bulbs. It was a spur-of-the-moment decision. Waking up, Valentine had put on his dressing gown, pulled back his curtains and looked onto his small front patio, just like he did every day. Only today he’d abruptly made the decision. Right, that was it. The pots and containers had been sitting empty for long enough. There was no excuse for it any more. Gisele’s funeral was three weeks ago and, as much as he missed her, he knew he needed to start looking forward to the future. Not to mention that she’d have his guts for garters, if she saw the state of her beloved patio.