He’d looked forward to retirement. To all the things he and Gisele would do together when he finally gave up painting and decorating and hung up his ladder. Lots of blokes he knew down the pub dreaded retiring. They eked work out for as long as they could. ‘What are we going to do all day?’ they would groan into their pints, fearful of being stuck at home under their wives’ feet.

But not Valentine. Every morning over breakfast he and Gisele would look out of the window at the weather and eagerly plan their day. He liked to go for a drive. ‘Look at that view: God’s own country,’ he would marvel as they set off in their ageing camper van to take in the sweeping ghylls and valleys across the Dales. Gisele liked to visit garden centres. ‘Just look at the flowers on that Clematis montana,’ she’d exclaim with an equal amount of joy and wonderment.

He used to love their day trips. They’d always stop somewhere nice for lunch. The cafe at the abbey was a firm favourite. They did lovely home-made scones there and you got a fabulous view of the ruined abbey. He went once by himself after Gisele left, but it wasn’t the same. He sat outside in the sunshine and watched children paddling in the river.

He liked to watch kids playing; there was something so innocent and carefree about them. One of them, a little girl, reminded him of Helen when she was that age, and he told her Helen’s favourite ‘knock, knock’ joke – the one about the penguin – and it made her laugh, a giggly, girlish laugh. But then the mother came rushing up and pulled the little girl away. Caused quite a scene. He left soon after that and never went back.

Valentine buttered a second slice of toast and looked out of the window of the bungalow. There wasn’t a soul about, just a field full of cows. It was situated right at the top of the lane that led onto a public footpath, and he rarely saw anyone passing except the odd hiker. As for friends, they’d drifted away, after the diagnosis. Last year Gisele had shouted at one of the neighbours further down the lane, accusing them of stealing from her, and the police were called.

Then there was the time in the post office when she insisted on paying with coins, counting them out, one by one. Some customers in the queue got impatient and started saying things, so he tried to pay with his card, but that only made Gisele upset and angry and everyone stared. In the end they stopped going out – it was easier that way. Most people in the village had been kind, but he’d retreated into himself. Caring for Gisele had been hard, but harder still was the guilt Valentine felt for not being able to look after her properly. Now he kept himself to himself.

The central heating was coming on.