When he opened his eyes, he said, his voice pleading, ‘I’m sorry I shouted. I know you’re right, but it just feels so hopeless. I do the same sodding exercises every day, over and over till I want to scream, and nothing changes. Imogen keeps telling me – you all keep telling me – that I’m doing so well and there’s so much improvement. But I can’t see it.’ His eyes gleamed with tears. ‘I don’t know what’s going to happen to me.’

Romy’s heart contracted. ‘You are getting stronger, Michael. I can see it, even if you can’t. And, yes, I know it’s slow, but your walking is way better, and even your shoulder has got some strength back. It’s only been a few weeks, remember.’

He nodded, wiping his eyes.

‘I’ll be back on Sunday evening,’ she said, not wanting to emphasize, when he was so upset, that her stay in the flat was coming to an end. She would talk to him properly about it on Monday. ‘Phone if you need me,’ she added, hoping he wouldn’t, because her mind was already off and away, back in her home by the sea, sitting in the sunny garden, pruning the climbing rose, seeing Finch … maybe even meeting his stepdaughter in the harbour-side pub for a chilled glass of something.

Romy was getting a takeaway coffee at Victoria station when Finch’s text came in: Hi. We’ll have to postpone today. Sorry. Grace a bit wobbly. Talk soon.

She stood amid the crowd around the departures board and reread his message. ‘Wobbly’? It seemed an odd word to use. She found she was disproportionately disappointed. And there was something about his text … Was it a bit peremptory? Finch was not a gusher, but this one felt different, somehow, as if he were subtly trying to pull away from her.

The worry haunted her all afternoon. Is Grace having a problem with her stepfather moving on? Or was Romy being paranoid and Grace was maybe just not well? ‘Wobbly’ could be taken in a number of ways, she realized. But if her suspicions were right, what did this mean for her and Finch?

She didn’t go out, nervous that she might bump into them round the village. There was enough to keep her busy at home, anyway. The place needed cleaning and the garden was positively jungly, requiring serious attention, despite the two hours a fortnight she paid Susan, the gardener.