There was a red Corolla in the drive when Pearly came home that afternoon. A common sight, and he knew that Alison Platt, his wife’s best friend, was visiting. He liked her and accepted her as part of their life. Her presence was so accustomed that it gave no offence for him to offer just a casual greeting from the living-room doorway and then go on to his study. Dinner would be a bit later because of the visit. Helen and Alison had done their nursing training together and remained close ever since, the opportunity for shared time varying throughout the ensuing years because of circumstances and location, but the bond always strong. They were like the best sort of sisters who could pick up where they left off no matter what the gap, who could talk and laugh together for hours on end or with equal pleasure work in the garden with their backs to each another. Pearly was always impressed by their apparent complete compatibility despite the considerable and obvious differences. Helen was fair, Alison was dark. Helen was family-minded and socially adept, Alison was unmarried, advanced in her profession, and abruptly and sometimes disconcertingly honest in her opinions. Helen could spend an hour in one small shop; only necessity drove Alison to purchase personal things, though she could outlay a formidable sum flying to California for a walking tour of the chaparral. Helen enjoyed reading Alice Munro; Alison preferred Annie Proulx.

Dinner was indeed a bit later, and Alison stayed for it. She wasn’t long back from a nursing conference in Hamilton, at which she’d given a paper on the growing number of practice nurses within the medical community. She reprised the main points of her address for Helen and Pearly over the lasagne and bean salad. ‘Pearly,’ she said afterwards, ‘that’s what Helen could be doing — what she should be doing — instead of pampering you. You should be ironing your own shirts and encouraging her to use her skills for wider benefit.’ Pearly was accustomed to such mock attacks.

‘But that’s why I married her,’ he said. ‘To make my life more pleasurable, not other people’s.’

‘No, but seriously,’ continued Alison. ‘I’ve been saying to her that she should think about it.’

‘Do you want to?’ Pearly asked his wife.

‘It’s not that easy. I’d have to sit all sorts of exams and stuff to revive my qualifications. You don’t just walk back into nursing.’

‘That’s not an obstacle, though,’ said Alison.

‘But do you want to?’ asked Pearly again.

‘Maybe,’ said Helen.

‘Then you should do it,’ he said.

‘Bravo,’ and Alison raised her glass as she spoke.