‘Funny kind of help.’ And yet, I had seen real affection between the Jackson kids, I thought, remembering her painting his face carefully at the party. Poor Willow.

For all her misguided and damaging attempts for attention, I truly hoped she’d be OK in the end.

‘I must go, Ruby.’ Marcus smiled tightly. He strode off to a long black ministerial-looking car, the driver opening the door for him.

I picked up the roses and trudged to my old van, which had taken to needing a jump-start every other morning.

And that was fine by me.

Ali returned to Berlin and her new love Amelia; Zach and I made plans to visit the following spring.

Gloria took to helping out in the shop, displaying an innate flair for both picking bouquets and chatting up customers. I’d even got some local funding from one of the street party charities, meaning I could limp on a little longer, keeping mine and Jonny’s dream going for now.

After Ali left, Zach and I spent more time at Gloria’s little house, drinking tea or rum and Coke, and shooting the breeze. The pain of Jonny’s sudden death had driven us apart initially, but slowly, I found myself opening up to the older woman in a way I might never have done in the past.

I realised she knew her son as well as I knew Zach, which is to say, as well as you can know someone you raise and love every particle of.

My own mother threatened the occasional visit but always changed her mind last minute. ‘Why don’t you come back to the North?’ she’d complain. ‘You’re keeping my grandchildren from me.’

‘I’m not, Mum,’ I’d reply politely.

I was safer in the South: I’d stay here, for now, at least.

One cold December night, there was a timid knock at our front door.

Cecilia, with hair in little twists again, blue this time, bearing a sparkly unicorn cake she’d made with her mum, plum-coloured nails, and a hand-drawn card saying ‘Sorry My Guy!’

While I held my breath in front of the TV in the living room, they were soon engaged in a battle of wits on The Witcher in his bedroom, laughing and shouting at the screen. And that was also more than fine by me. They needed each other, I believed, after what they’d both been through: their friendship was worth fighting for.

It just needed a little prompt, perhaps; a few texts from me.

I was happy to keep our door open to Cecilia, especially as I’d heard from Melissa that the poor lass wasn’t talking to Rex right now.

After they’d been playing for a while, I knocked at the bedroom door. ‘How’s your mum doing, lovie?’ I asked Ceci, placing glasses of lurid pop on Zach’s windowsill and removing some dirty socks from the floor.

‘Much better, thanks.’ She was killing a baddie at the time and didn’t move her eyes off the screen. ‘She’s got some new meds. Oh, and a job at the dental surgery that she loves.’