‘Are you ill?’ Mary asked, looking concerned.

‘Oh, just a touch of flu, that’s all.’

Mary nodded. ‘That awful virus that’s going around. Everybody I know has had it. You should try drinking ginger – it kills flu in its tracks, stops it dead. Ginger with a drop of honey in it.’

‘I’m quite happy with paracetamol and codeine, thank you.’

Mary looked appalled. ‘They won’t help. Trust me, ginger’s what you need. I’ve got some upstairs. I’ll fetch it for you in a minute.’

‘But…’

‘And I won’t take no for an answer.’

Kirsty smiled politely. Now she was thinking, What a pushy cow. She sniffed. Suddenly, she felt cold, and she wanted to get back to her quilt on the sofa.

‘The reason I came down was to ask if you’ve seen Lennon, my cat. I haven’t seen him since Sunday and I’m really worried. He does sometimes wander off for a couple of days, but he’s never been gone this long before.’

Kirsty shook her head. ‘No, I’ve been stuck indoors since Sunday morning. I’ve hardly even had the curtains open.’

Mary sighed. ‘Oh well. Just thought I’d ask. Brian and Linda haven’t seen him either.’

‘I’m sure he’ll turn up.’

Mary looked at the front door, listening to the traffic beyond it. She had a sad, worried look in her eye, and Kirsty felt an twinge of sympathy. She understood the agonies of anxiety: she dealt with the worries of parents every day. This was a cat, not a child, but at its root lay the same emotion. Mary lived alone with the cat; she probably treated it like a child.

Mary forced a smile. ‘I’ll get you that ginger.’

Kirsty waited while Mary went up the stairs, her long skirt rippling around her ankles, forcing her to go slowly. She returned a minute later with a pale-brown lump of vegetation in her hand. She held it out to Kirsty who took it tentatively.

‘This is root ginger. All you need to do is cut off about an inch, grate it into a mug then pour boiling water onto it. Leave it for about ten minutes then strain it. Add a spoonful of honey. It will take away your flu. I guarantee it.’

‘Thanks. I’ll give it a go.’ She felt her nose start to run and sniffed. ‘I hope your cat turns up.’

‘I’ll be heartbroken if he doesn’t.’

Jamie came through the front door struggling under the weight of a large cardboard box and perspiring heavily. He wiped his forehead with the sleeve of his T-shirt before making his way back out to the car and bringing in another box. Kirsty had fallen asleep on the sofa, and he woke her with a kiss. She sat up, rubbing her sleep-gummed eyes.

‘What have you bought now?’