I crossed the lobby, my heels slipping slightly on the polished floor as I rushed towards the lift which would take me up to the flat.

‘Hattie,’ came the voice again, more insistent this time.

I told myself that the events of the afternoon must have sent me into shock. I was so looking forward to hearing Dolly’s voice I had conjured it in my head.

‘Hattie, it’s me, dear, Dolly.’

I spun around and there she was. Tiny in stature, but large of heart and surrounded by bags. She always reminded me of Miss Marple as interpreted by Geraldine McEwan. Only perhaps slightly more eccentric, if that were possible.

‘Oh Dolly!’ I gasped. ‘What are you doing here? I was going to call . . .’

My voice trailed off as the lump in my throat threatened to betray me.

‘And so was I,’ she smiled, her green eyes twinkling, ‘but then I just got the feeling that it would be better to visit in person.’

She eyed me astutely and I nodded and stood up a little straighter.

‘You look tired,’ I observed, returning her scrutiny and feeling surprised by what I found, ‘and pale.’

It was unlike her not to be sporting a rosy glow, especially after a summer spent tending her beloved garden.

‘Just what every woman of advancing years wants to be told,’ she chuckled, raising her eyebrows.

‘Sorry,’ I said, shaking my head. ‘It really is wonderful to see you. Was your journey horrid?’

‘Not at all,’ she replied. ‘Travelling on the train was quite pleasant, but it’s the start of term and, as you know, all the excitement takes it out of me a bit these days.’

‘Of course,’ I nodded. ‘I was forgetting you were back in the thick of it again now.’

I knew this was to be her last academic year and given her pallor I couldn’t help thinking that next summer couldn’t come soon enough. She had added fifteen years of volunteering to her working life since her retirement, so it was little wonder she looked worn out.

‘Anyway,’ she said, reaching out for my hand. ‘That’s enough about me. I was rather hoping you were going to tell me what you’ve been up to, and a hug wouldn’t go amiss.’

I managed not to cry all over her and once we were all hugged out, we went up to the flat. Dolly perched herself at the kitchen island, watching me closely while I boiled the kettle, kicked off my heels and released my hair from the pins which held it in a tight bun.

‘It’s so lovely to see you, Dolly,’ I said, running my hands through the tangle and thinking what a relief it was to finally relax. ‘But I can’t help wondering what exactly it was that made you decide to call in person rather than pick up the phone?’