‘Tying up loose ends mainly: I make phone calls; I contact family and find lost friends. I make connections – anything to give the patients peace before they die. I’ve just painted a portrait of a dog for a guy who was missing his dog, though—’ my voice broke, ‘we lost him today.’ I paused while I gathered myself, then carried on. ‘I can’t bear the thought of anyone dying with unfinished business.’ I didn’t tell her that my volunteer work tended to spill over into my life as I sleuthed away on the computer at home – something Rohan was always chiding me for. ‘The fact that I’ve done my best makes it more bearable for me when the patients I’ve grown close to do finally pass,’ I said, ‘because that’s basically how it ends for all of them. But it brings me a lot of peace.’

Grace shrugged. ‘Whatever floats your boat. So, the painting?’ she said. ‘You said you were painting again?’

‘Oh yes! Well, suddenly I got inspired and I’ve done two in the last few weeks!’ I laughed, still full of the wonder of having good paint on a canvas. ‘I think it’s going to be okay. It’s going to be a series.’

Grace nodded. ‘Landscapes again?’

‘No. Portraits.’

She tilted her head. ‘I can’t wait to see them.’

Would I really be able to show her? Did I dare? I got up to check the oven. ‘I’ve done a roast chicken, by the way,’ I said, ‘I hope you’re hungry,’ and Grace pulled a face.

‘Ah,’ she said. ‘I should have told you. Eek. Awkward.’ She winced.

‘What?’ I said, oven gloves on.

‘I don’t eat meat anymore. Haven’t for a long time. I’m a pescatarian.’

‘Really?’ I laughed. She had to be joking, of course she was joking, but she was shaking her head, her hand over her mouth and suddenly I was back in our student digs on her twentieth birthday. For a nanosecond, the old hurt flared, raw and angry, but I shoved it back down. I should have asked. Any decent hostess would have asked.

Grace and I had moved out of Halls for our second year, both of us overjoyed at the thought of having more privacy. Sharing a bathroom and kitchen was a torture I could no longer endure, so I’d found a student accommodation building that allowed me to rent a decent studio with facilities and a whole load of extras like WiFi and laundry. Grace was able to take a single room in the same block – given I cooked for her most of the time, there seemed no point in her wasting money on a kitchen, and the arrangement worked well: my studio was just about large enough for us both to eat and relax in but she had her own space for sleeping.