Rosa sat on a pew, flanked by her children and grandchildren, with an ancient and creaking Cookie at her heels. Times had moved on regarding women at funerals but, even had they not, Rosa would have insisted on attending this one. Nothing in the world would have kept her away. It was, after all, the last chance to say goodbye to her soulmate – the person she’d loved most in all the world, the other half of her soul.

Oh, certainly they had argued sometimes, and they had disagreed sometimes, and they had hurt each other sometimes. But all that was immaterial. As the years passed, Rosa had known that she was happy, of course, but perhaps it was only possible to well and truly appreciate just how good it had all been now, when it was finally over forever.

It was impossible for her to imagine James inside the coffin. Impossible to imagine that her husband would never take her by the hand again, or kiss that particular spot on her neck, or laugh at some shared joke, or wrap his arms around her to hold her close and tell her how precious she was to him.

She could not stop the flood of memories. The first time he made her shiver with pleasure. The arrival of their first baby, and the pride and wonder with which James had gazed into the crib. The time she accompanied him to India and they had eaten papayas on the veranda of a white marble hotel until the juice ran down their chins. All those countless other adventures they had taken all over the world in pursuit of orchids. How their home had been filled with the scent of them, and how people had travelled from miles around to marvel at the unusual, fantastic specimens in their garden and hothouses. A life filled with flowers and love.

Naturally there had been dark times too – the dreadful weeks she wept for their six-year-old son, Henry, snatched away by influenza. But at every step James was by her side to share her grief. He was an old man by the time he died, his skin lined, his body thin. But, to her, he would always be that dark-haired adventurer, laughing at some joke she had just cracked as they made their way to their next exotic destination. Throughout their lives there seemed always to have been some whistle blasting impatiently in the background, and when Rosa closed her eyes, even now, she could still feel James’s warm hand on her arm, his head bent close to her ear as he said, ‘Come on, Cogs, we don’t want to miss the train.’