Having sealed the letter, folded many times because she only had a too-small envelope, Esther found a stamp and then decided she had better keep her word about the run, despite it being – by some way – the least appealing item on her entire list. Attacking the challenge five days earlier than strictly necessary was already an achievement, she told herself, rummaging for her old trainers and a combination of clothes to keep her warm and relatively dry, before zipping the envelope into an inner pocket.

She turned left out of the house, ducking low as she ran past Sue and Dimitri’s so as to minimise the chances of being spotted. Seconds later, the rain intensified and the street morphed into a wind tunnel, blasting her flimsy cagoule hood back off her head even with the chin toggle at its tightest. Every dent in the pavement became a puddle and by the time she turned into the high street, having to slow to a walk because of all the shoppers braving the sales, she was drenched from head to foot.

Was there anything more dejected than Christmas decorations after Christmas? she wondered, pausing under a café canopy, and worrying for the chains of angels strung across the street, tossed into mad dancing by the onslaught. The café looked cosy and inviting, though. She peered through the window, lined with tables and diners, only to pull back at the sight of Marcus, sitting alone with a mug of something topped with whipped cream. Escape was her first thought, but he had already glanced her way, puzzlement creasing his face before recognition fully dawned. Because she looked like a shipwreck survivor, Esther guessed, as he proceeded to beckon with elaborate hand-signals at the empty chair opposite him. She shook her head, indicating her sodden state, but he promptly left his table to stick his head outside the café door.

‘It’s warm and dry in here.’

‘I’m on a run.’

‘Really?’

‘Well… I’ve… done a bit of one.’

‘Great. Haven’t you earned a break, in that case? I wanted to talk to you. I left a message,’ he added in a slightly accusing tone.

‘Yes. I know. Sorry. I didn’t know you were around. I only got back yesterday afternoon and it’s been… busy.’

‘Yes. Sorry. Me too. Look…’ He stepped out of the way of two new arrivals, talking at her over their heads as they shook out umbrellas. ‘I’d appreciate a word. It won’t take long.’

‘Right. Okay. Just for a minute, then – though I might seek out the Ladies first,’ Esther muttered, ‘given the state of me.’

‘Great. I’ll order you something. Coffee? Chocolate? Tea?’

‘Cappuccino. Thanks.’

Arriving at the table a few minutes later, her puce face and dripping hair having proved beyond salvaging, Esther draped her sodden cagoule on the back of the chair opposite him and sat down.