‘Maybe I’m not on top form at the moment,’ he went on, ‘but that’s mostly to do with my bloody back. And if you seriously think I’m going to share my innermost thoughts with either of those smug twelve-year-olds, then you’ve got another think coming.’

His look challenged her to disagree. But she still said nothing. What was the point?

‘I’m going to take a shower,’ he said, turning away.

Connie heard him slowly climb the stairs, then a minute later the sound of the shower pump from the bathroom. She sat down again, exhausted. She had no idea how best to help him. He’d always been wilful – it was what had made him a good doctor. He would fight to the bitter end to secure the care he thought a patient needed. But when it came to himself, he was blind as to how his actions were affecting himself and all those around him.

Tears pricked behind her eyes as she thought back to his repeated pleas that she should retire, or scale back her tours. She didn’t feel her age in the same way Devan clearly did. Her shoulder-length auburn hair had help from Janine at the village hairdresser, these days, and her grey eyes required drops because they were dry. She needed reading glasses, but she’d recently ordered varifocal contact lenses, Which I must pick up before I go away again, she reminded herself. But she was still slim – despite the irritating pad of post-menopausal stomach fat that seemed resistant to all her efforts – and her fair, freckle-prone skin still smooth because it never went in the sun without Factor 50 and a hat. But it wasn’t really about looks. Connie didn’t feel like a woman in her sixties on any level. She was fit and energetic still, and she knew she was good at her job. Her tours provided so much pleasure: to give them up now might crush her.

If Devan keeps going on at me like this, she thought, it’s not going to end well. She didn’t examine what she meant by this, not then, but she felt her stubbornness limbering up, like a substitute on the touchline waiting to run onto the pitch. Throughout her childhood, as her mother had often reminded her, Connie’s stubborn nature had been a thorn in her side.

3

The family were coming for Easter. Connie had been so looking forward to it – they rarely had time to make the trek to Somerset. Ash’s punishing schedule as a television producer and the demands of his extensive family in Manchester usually resulted in Caitlin coming with just Bashir. But she had been worried about how Devan would cope with having a small child in the house for two days, even though he adored his grandson.