On the booking website where I’d found Toad Hall, it had been described variously as “charming” and “shabby chic,” but at first, second and third glances, postapocalyptic early Tuscan ruin might have been a more fitting description.

“Okay, then, everybody out. If this is it, we’re here!”

While my mouth was desperately having a crack at cheery, my spirits were trying to save themselves from crashing to the postapocalyptic Tuscan tiled doorstep. This trip was already stressful enough without the prospect of having to endure our first two nights at the mercy of Bill and Gloria. Especially if, and chances were, their presentation and housekeeping were a reflection of their hospitality. I tried to remember if we’d passed any nice Best Westerns on our way into Barnstaple, but Leonard had already swung our bags out of the boot and was gently motioning Norman ahead of him up the pathway.

“Come on, Norman, the early bird gets the worm. The sooner we check in, the more time you’ll have to practice for tonight. The show must go on!” Not quite yet matey, I thought, and thank a nonexistent god for small mercies about that.

After I’d got back to the car in Bude, bearing ham-and-pickle toasties and apple juice, I’d sat in the front seat of the car with the door open and listened to Norman go over some of his jokes with Leonard. My heart had sunk lower and lower with every bite and off-kilter delivery. I’d occasionally snuck a glance in the wing mirror at Norman, who was right in my line of sight, looking for all the world like he was hanging on Leonard’s every word of advice. But there was no getting around it that, without Jax, there was no banter, no timing and every joke sounded lonely, stilted and way out of its depth. I wanted to say put it all back in the shoebox, Norman, and let’s just go home. It doesn’t matter, Sadie, love, time to go home. I shook my head a couple of times and a memory slid away, too slowly for my liking. Alternating on every second bite, I chimed in with what I hoped was some encouraging laughter.

Leonard had also been very enthusiastic, with a load of bravos and hardy har har, young fellows, thrown in with abandon, but with his first real public airing just hours away, I couldn’t help feeling Norman was far from ready.

As I listened to him fumbling through his jokes one after another, I tried telling myself that it didn’t matter if he wasn’t perfect, because this one was just a kid, right? Even if his timing wasn’t quite there, he was wonderful and brave and hopeful, and didn’t he have all that astounding gravitas? Surely that would count for something. People would understand. And what did it matter if a few jokes fell flat, as long as Norman got to have a go at that plan of his for Jax? For himself.