I preen a bit whenever she uses my nickname, even now. I like being a Flick. I’d been Felicity Eagles, then Felicity Goose, and the closest I got to an affectionate little name was when John called me Phyllis for a fortnight, but Cordelia had called me Flick from day one and it made me feel like I was somebody other than I was. When you’re a man and a wife and you clean schools and other people’s houses, there’s something nice about the idea that you might just be pretending.

‘How’s John? Is the scar as bad as you thought it was going to be? I did plan to send him some of those cowboy books he likes but I forgot the name of his favourite writer and then I couldn’t be sure which ones he’s already got, so I suppose I’ve ended up doing nothing, but do tell him I’ve been thinking about him.’

I could tell from the way she was talking that something wasn’t quite right. We’ve always been able to spot those little things about one another that speak volumes if you really listen. Her accent wasn’t there at all – she was doing the whole BBC newsreader thing, thought it wasn’t easy to make out what she was saying, what with my bad ear and that persistent crackle on the line.

‘He’s being a nuisance, that’s what he is. Barely touched his tea tonight. Mally Foster brought us a lovely bit of rainbow trout and I had some potatoes left over but he just pushed it around his plate. Didn’t hang about with the pudding though. It’s not easy, seeing your husband sat there in front of you eating a bowlful of blackcurrant jelly and three scoops of raspberry ripple. Not when he’s left his teeth by the bed, any road …’

She cut me off before I could start a proper chinwag. Asked me straight out if I could do her a favour. She knew it was a real pain for me and it was no doubt going to ruin my plans but she was absolutely desperate and wouldn’t ask unless it was an emergency. I didn’t even think before I told her that whatever it was, I’d be only too happy to help. I meant it too. Cordelia doesn’t ask many favours and God only knows how many times she’s done little things and bloody big things for me and mine, and as it turned out, it wasn’t even that much of a thing she wanted me to do.

‘Will he be able to drive you, do you think?’ she asks, sounding jittery. ‘Oh Flick, I wish you’d just get over this silly fear and get yourself some driving lessons. It’s so silly that you’re reliant on your husband if you want to go anywhere. So silly …’