‘Is Helen coming?’

Gisele was looking over his shoulder, her expression hopeful, as if at any minute she might see her daughter walking through the door.

‘No, she’s gone to stay with your sister Agnès, in Paris.’

Disappointment flashed across her face and she said something in French that Valentine couldn’t understand. She spoke French more and more these days. One time he visited, she refused to speak any English and he had to try to get by with what little French he knew.

‘Are we in Paris?’ she said finally in English.

‘No, Helen is.’

Gisele seemed agitated now, as if trying to process this information, and then said, ‘Can we go home now?’

‘Maybe tomorrow,’ he soothed, stroking her hand with his thumb. He hated lying to her, but he’d learned it was the kindest thing. She asked this every time he came to visit her, and at first he tried to be truthful and explain that she was living here now, but she would grow too upset.

So now he lied. He lied to his own wife.

‘I’ve got you a gift.’ Hoping to distract her, he reached into his shopping bag and pulled out a potted hyacinth that he’d bought on his way here. The DIY shop at the local retail park had a large gardening section and it was right where the bus dropped him off, at the bottom of the hill. ‘They’re your favourite.’

‘Jacinthe.’ Gisele’s eyes lit up.

‘Aye,’ he nodded now, smiling. ‘I know how much you love the smell.’

He held it for her as she dipped her nose into the purple flowers and took a deep inhale. Its effect was magical. Closing her eyes, she appeared instantly calmed as she drew in its fragrance.

‘I had them as my wedding posy.’ She spoke in hushed tones, as if the memory was being coaxed from her mind and to speak any louder might scare it away. ‘Jacinthes pourpres . . . deep purple ones, tied with an ivory ribbon. It was the most beautiful thing I’d ever seen.’

‘You certainly were.’ Valentine smiled and nodded, enraptured by his wife. These few precious moments when she remembered were becoming more and more rare. ‘Most beautiful bride I’d ever seen.’

She frowned then and, opening her eyes, turned to face him.

‘Do I know you?’

He fought back tears.

‘Yes, it’s Valentine, love, your husband.’

He should be used to it by now. She didn’t know what she was saying. She didn’t mean it. And yet, every time, it broke his heart a little bit more.

Gisele looked at him, her expression blank. Nothing. A whole lifetime together and there was nothing there.

He sniffed sharply. ‘Well, let’s see if we can put it in your room, eh?’ He eased himself up from the armchair. No point sitting here feeling sorry for himself. That wasn’t going to help anyone. ‘I’ll go and ask the nurse if we can put it on your bedside table. Then, when you go to bed, it’ll remind you of your wedding day.’