It confused her that he was being so nice. Michael didn’t do ‘nice’. He abhorred sentimentality and favoured honesty over tact. He was so caught up in his own world that he didn’t concern himself much with other people’s feelings. But since the stroke, that had changed.

‘I haven’t told you enough in the past,’ he was saying.

‘Don’t be silly.’ She’d been embarrassed.

‘No … Lying here, I’ve had time to think. I took advantage of you, Romy. I didn’t appreciate just how much you meant to me, or how much you put up with, until you left.’

Michael’s slow, ponderous speech gave a weight to his words that made Romy self-conscious. He was still staring at her, his eyes willing her to take him seriously.

‘No, well …’ She didn’t want his apologies. But the moment felt dangerous, as if she were poised at a door, which, if opened, might lead her straight back to Michael’s side.

He must have seen her reluctance because he turned away on the pillow and she heard him give a short laugh.

‘Sorry, not the time for all this,’ he said quietly. ‘I’m a bit of a soppy old fool these days … but I meant what I said.’

Now Bettina was asking, ‘So he’s noticeably better?’

‘Oh, yes, definitely. But, God, it’s slow, Bet. I can’t see an end to it.’

‘Don’t say that,’ her friend said anxiously. ‘He’s not your responsibility any more, Romy. He’s really not.’ A pause. Romy knew what was coming and she knew Bettina was right. ‘I think you should start finding someone else to help Daniel, if he needs it. You’ve done your bit. You need to go home.’

‘Yeah,’ she said, feeling too tired to speak. ‘I know I do. And I will.’ It should be simple, but the thought of telling Michael she was going back to Sussex made her falter. ‘He’s still very weak,’ she added lamely.

Bettina was silent.

Romy took a deep breath. ‘But I’m going out tonight.’ She hadn’t yet told her friend about Finch. There had been nothing to tell until recently, and then there had been Michael’s stroke. So now she wanted to reassure her that she was not falling back into a relationship with a man Bettina had always been a bit wary of. Although she nearly hadn’t agreed to Finch’s invitation when he’d called.

‘I’m coming up tomorrow,’ Finch had said. ‘Got a couple of meetings. I thought I might stay over and we could have supper together.’