They continued with their work. When Dora passed the man’s jacket to Gina she looked stricken, and all the humour of the gin find evaporated.

‘I reckon this must have been Mr Thwaite’s,’ Dora said sadly. ‘Why else would she have a man’s jacket? She must have kept it all these years since he was killed as a memento of him. Fold it up nicely, Gina, love. There’s some tissue paper in the other room – use that and let’s respect her memory of him. She must have loved him very much.’

Gina did as she was asked, and if, for a moment, she wished she had been a little kinder to Mrs Thwaite, she quickly shrugged the thought away.

‘Mrs Stellion, how are you feeling this morning?’ asked Gina, coming into the morning room with the daily newspaper. She’d tried a few suggestions to get Edith interested in life over the weeks – playing the piano, doing the crossword, reading the glossy fashion magazine she had delivered but which was left unopened, telephoning her friends – but with only moderate success. June had been unusually cool and overcast, but today the weather had improved, and that seemed to have affected the lady’s mood.

‘Perhaps a little better than yesterday, thank you, Gina.’

‘As it’s such a lovely day, Coco and me wondered if you’d like to go out with us for our walk this morning.’

Edith bent over the arm of her chair to stroke Coco’s head where he sat in his basket. ‘Did you, Coco? Good boy. But, I don’t know, Gina. I’m not much of a walker, as I think I told you.’

‘But Coco would love you to come,’ insisted Gina. ‘Wouldn’t you, Coco?’

The little dog got up and went to lay his head on Mrs Stellion’s knee as if he understood.

‘See?’ said Gina, laughing.

‘I’m not sure …’

‘Please, Mrs Stellion. We’d both like you to come.’

‘Oh, all right then. But you’re not to walk too fast, Coco, or Mummy won’t be able to keep up.’

‘Coco will do exactly what his mummy tells him when you take his lead,’ said Gina confidently. ‘Now, Mrs Stellion, I reckon you should take your cardi, just in case, and we’ll go and have a look at your roses, if you like?’

‘Yes … yes, all right, Gina, dear, let’s do that. Perhaps a walk is just what I need.’

Honestly, it’s like dealing with a child.

They set off, walking slowly, Edith wearing a very smart pair of brogues and holding Coco’s lead, Gina in her sensible black housekeeper’s shoes.

‘Let’s go across the front lawn,’ said Gina. ‘It’s Coco’s favourite route.’