‘Get the card written and stick it all in the envelope,’ she encouraged, ‘and then, if you do decide to go ahead, it’ll be done. You really haven’t got much longer to decide you know.’

I did as Dolly instructed and put it next to, rather than on top of the pile, with all the others, but I had no intention of sending it, not the letter part anyway. And even if I had wanted to send the card, given the conversation we’d had, I knew it wouldn’t be fair on Jonathan. I sat there and stared at the envelope thinking Dolly had been wrong to assume I’d feel better for getting it all out of my head because if anything, I actually felt worse. The best thing I could do was forget about it. Bin the card when Dolly wasn’t looking, squash all my emotions back into their assigned box and cram the lid firmly on.

‘Done,’ Dolly announced a minute or so later, plonking her pen down with a flourish and putting her cards for school in a separate bag as they wouldn’t need sending. ‘They’re all ready to go. It didn’t take as long as I thought it would,’ she added, looking over at the clock, ‘but then when you get to my age there are fewer and fewer to write each year.’

‘Dolly,’ I frowned.

‘What?’ She shrugged, ‘it’s true.’

It may well have been true, but it made me feel uncomfortable nonetheless.

‘How are your legs?’ she asked. ‘Up to an hour in church?’

We decided they really weren’t and Dolly offered me what she said would be, if not a miracle cure, then a definite help.

‘Just add a few drops of this to your bath water,’ she said, handing me a small blue bottle, ‘and then sit in it for at least half an hour.’

‘What’s in it?’ I asked, removing the stopper and taking an exploratory sniff.

It wasn’t unpleasant, but it wasn’t Radox either.

‘I’m not sure exactly,’ Dolly frowned, ‘there’s definitely marjoram and rosemary but beyond that . . .’

‘Where did you get it?’

‘From Molly at Wynthorpe Hall.’

I hadn’t heard mention of a Molly before.

‘How many people actually live in that place?’ I laughed.

‘She doesn’t live in the hall. She has a cottage in the woods. She makes all sorts of remedies.’

‘Is she a witch?’ I joked.

‘Yes,’ said Dolly, pulling me up short. ‘I suppose she is. Of sorts. Anyway, whatever she is, she knows her stuff. A few drops of that and a decent night’s sleep will set you to rights.’

I didn’t ask for further explanation and made sure I was firmly ensconced in the bathroom with my phone playing some soothing music well before Beamish arrived to take Dolly to church.