When Olivia had walked past with Harry, he’d mentioned it to her and she’d kindly offered to take him in the Land Rover. Well, he could hardly carry heavy bags of compost on the bus, and the mechanic had finally called last week to say the camper van was kaput.

‘You’re probably better off selling it as scrap.’

‘Scrap!’ Valentine had been both horrified and insulted. ‘Bugger that! I’m not selling my van for scrap. There’s nowt wrong with it.’

‘Nothing except the alternator’s gone, it needs a clutch and the floor is almost rusted through,’ replied the mechanic, running through a long list.

‘Well, can’t you fix it? I don’t care what it costs. It’s got sentimental value. You can’t put a price on that.’

At which the mechanic had really put his tail between his legs and apologized and said yes, of course he could fix it; and several hours later he’d called back with an estimate. To which Valentine had said there was being sentimental and there was being crackers, and how much could he get for scrap?

Two hundred quid in cash, it turned out, which was the money he was going to use to transform his patio. Though he knew nothing about gardening. All those years watching Gisele and he hadn’t a clue. It had been the same with the washing machine. Still, he’d picked that up – though not until he’d shrunk all his jumpers and his shirts turned pink (well, how was he supposed to know you separated the colours?) – and now he was a dab hand at all the different programmes.

That said, buying new jumpers had been costly, so he’d rather not repeat his mistakes. Olivia was helpful, though she said she was still learning, and went on about Monty Don’s Jewel Garden a lot. Luckily there was a very nice assistant who explained about all the different spring bulbs and how to plant them, and Valentine ended up buying a huge selection. Daffs, crocuses, grape hyacinths, alliums and so many different colours of tulips. Some even had stripes and frilly edges.

‘You know, I could have lent you the money to fix up the camper van,’ Olivia was saying now as she reached for more compost.

Harry was lying up against the bags of multi-use potting compost, basking in the weak October sunshine that was shining through the low branches of the trees. He lifted his head grumpily as she removed his back-support.

‘I’ve still got some money left over from paying for the band, and I sold some of my old clothes on eBay recently. A lot of it was vintage designer stuff that I bought in London, but my lifestyle’s changed now. I’ll never wear them again. Or fit into them,’ she added with a roll of her eyes.

‘That’s very kind of you, but no need.’ Valentine shook his head. ‘That part of my life’s over.’

‘Oh, don’t say that.’ She looked dismayed.

‘It’s all right, love. It’s how it should be. We had some wonderful times in that van and I’ll never forget them, but life moves on and you’ve got to move with it.’ He gestured to the packets of bulbs. ‘Look to the future, eh?’