We talked long into the night, about all sorts of things. Some related to what was going to happen to Dolly and others completely unconnected. One thing we did decide, was that I was going to stay at the cottage until . . . well, you know . . . and I would do my utmost to make sure Dolly stayed there too. She was adamant that she didn’t want to go to the local hospice. She’d lived the best part of her life in the cottage and she wanted to leave there ‘feet first’ as she put it.

I couldn’t help but admire her candid grasp on the situation, but like she said, she’d had far longer to get used to the idea than I had. She had told everyone she had shut herself away because she’d had a cold, bordering on flu, but that was all a ruse. What she had actually done was sensibly taken some time out to come to terms with her diagnosis. She explained that she had gladly gone through the whole anger, denial and self-pity process in complete privacy.

‘So where did you slip off to earlier?’ she asked as I eventually began to clear things away to go to bed.

I was surprised that between us we had worked our way through the seasonal snacks Dolly had suggested. All that was left were a few crumbs.

‘I wondered if you might have gone to tell Beamish about Jonathan?’

What a wily old fox she was.

‘I had,’ I admitted.

‘And how did he take it?’ she asked, watching me closely.

‘Well,’ I said, puffing out my cheeks, ‘it turned out there was far less for me to explain than I thought there might be.’

‘Oh?’

‘Let’s get you settled in bed,’ I told her, ‘and I’ll tell you what happened.’

‘It can be my bedtime story,’ she joked, then catching my expression added, ‘it won’t give me nightmares, will it?’

With Dolly tucked, disconcertingly without any insistence that she could manage on her own, under her eiderdown and with a mug of cocoa on the nightstand, I told her what had unfolded when I went to find Beamish and Jonathan had gatecrashed. Her eyes widened when I reached the part about the two men already knowing about each other, and Jonathan pulling an engagement ring out of his pocket, but she didn’t interrupt.

‘And how did you leave things?’ she asked once I had finally reached the end.

‘Well,’ I said, ‘I’m pretty certain that Jonathan has finally got the message.’

‘And Beamish?’

I shook my head.

‘Let’s just say, I don’t think we’re friends anymore.’

Dolly looked appalled.

‘This is my fault,’ she said, plucking at a loose thread on the eiderdown.

‘No,’ I said, shaking my head. ‘No. It’s mine. I should have been talking about Jonathan from the off.’