Now he did cry, in earnest. His face became mangled, and the tears began to flow. It was a powerful thing, Heather thought, watching a man cry while discussing his feelings so eloquently. Unfortunately, she didn’t share his eloquence. Finding herself without words, she did something totally out of character. She stepped across to his plank of wood, and put her arms around him. As Stephen leaned into her, they overbalanced, landing heavily on the beam below them.

‘Oh God,’ Stephen exclaimed. ‘Are you hurt?’

‘No! I’m fine. I mean . . . I think I’m fine.’

‘Did you hit your head?’

‘No.’ She had banged her side quite badly, and she would later find a bruise, but she definitely had not hit her head.

‘Are you certain you didn’t hit your head?’ Stephen repeated, surveying her with a doctorly gaze.

‘I’m certain. But . . . oh no! You’re bleeding.’

The elbow of his white business shirt was soaked through with blood. ‘Just a graze,’ he said. ‘But if you are hurt, please tell me and I’ll take you to the hospital.’

‘I’m fine. Really. But I have bandaids in my car. Come and let me fix up your elbow.’

They finished their meeting in Heather’s car that day. And, after that interaction, things were a bit different between them. At each meeting Heather asked how Pam was, and Stephen would answer honestly, if sadly. When Heather gently probed as to whether Stephen would like to take another look at the plans – as Pam was unlikely to spend much time in the house, it was still possible to change the style to something more to his personal taste – he agreed this wasn’t a bad idea.

‘You know, you’re right. No point mourning my wife in a house that I hate.’

A not-unpleasant side effect of this was that the late changes required several more meetings. Some of these meetings happened in the hospital cafeteria. A couple of times they met at funny little shops that sold specialist taps or hardware. On one such occasion, a salesperson confused Heather and Stephen for husband and wife. As Heather hurriedly opened her mouth to correct them, Stephen chimed in, ‘Yes, you’re right. Happy wife, happy life.’ And he threw her a wink.

Slowly, a closeness grew between them. It was never romantic – at least, not from Stephen’s point of view, as far as Heather could tell. But he had a charming way of letting his guard down around her. Usually it was when he was talking about Pam, and the latest challenge. He was always respectful, never revealing anything that could be seen as humiliating her. That, combined with stories about lives he’d saved (always prised from him, he was very humble) meant Heather was soon ruined for all other men.

They had been supposed to meet the afternoon after Pamela moved into the nursing home. Stephen had moved into the house by then, but there were a few little i’s to dot and t’s to cross. Heather had suggested they change the time of the meeting, but he’d insisted they go ahead, saying he’d need something to take his mind off things.