O, on the other hand, always gets nervous symptoms the night before. Sometimes it’s a headache, sometimes she’s physically sick. Last time O accused Edgar of having fleas because she was itchy all over. I gave her camomile lotion to put in the bath and then she slipped and had to be rescued. Poor O. By contrast, last night was very quiet. After we found Sidney, she went to bed, I went to bed, and it was a quiet night apart from that nasty Creeper dream. I want to tell her about it but she’s not in that sort of mood and once we’re riding it’s far too noisy to talk.

The pub is called Aubergine. It has York slate floors, a coal fire, a small stage for live music, a pizza oven and a real paper menu. This is essential for Daphne because she’s afraid of AR and if you show her an AR menu she tries to swipe it like a touchscreen, which is the last type of technology she can remember mastering.

O acts unusually distracted as she drinks lemonade and studies the menu as though trying to burn holes in it. This leaves me to make small talk with Daphne; I throw myself into the role with gusto.

‘Do you remember who I am, Daphne?’ I say. This goes straight against the advice not to ask questions like this because they can provoke anxiety when the memory-impaired person can’t answer, but I do it anyway because I know what Daphne’s like. She perks right up.

‘Naturally I remember you,’ she says haughtily. ‘I never forget a face. You are the girl from the copy centre. You gave us that special deal on party invitations. Was it thirty per cent off?’

I can just about remember what a copy centre is but play along. ‘Yes, thirty per cent off just for you. Was the party a success?’

‘Don’t be absurd. Naturally Sybil turned up stoned, Jeremy Binter and Rakesh nearly had a fist fight, and I ended up retiring to the kitchen for almost an hour in the middle because Corinne was holding forth again about her precious daughter’s artisanal breastmilk business. It was exhausting.’

‘Kitchens are always the best place at a party, anyway,’ I say.

‘Do you really think so? When I was your age, the roof was the best place. I don’t suppose anyone can get away with that these days, what with all the drones flying everywhere.’

‘There really aren’t that many,’ I reassure her. Daphne’s mind jumps around in time so much that she often surprises me with how much she knows about the present day, even while she still thinks there are Blockbusters outlets.