They had slipped into bed to make love without locking up properly, cleaning their teeth or even making a fuss of Chutney. It had felt illicit, spontaneous and lovely, yet today it seemed an age ago. Once more the lump rose in her throat, as she thought sadly how she and her husband seemed to have slipped off course, left clinging to the wreckage – caring little that they might be heading in different directions and just grateful that their heads were still somehow above water.

‘I was saying, Mrs T – twenty-one again?’ Jim enunciated, staring at her intently, and she wondered how long she had stood in front of him, daydreaming.

‘Yep, something like that.’ She gave a forced smile.

‘Ah, many happy returns. How old are you?’

‘Most people don’t ask that.’

‘Well, I think it’s a lot like singing.’

‘How d’you mean?’ She shook her head, trying to keep up.

‘You know, when you’re a kid you sing loudly and wherever the fancy takes you because singing makes you feel good, opens your lungs, fills your heart, lifts your spirit!’ He leant back, opened his eyes wide and gazed towards the heavens, and just for a minute she thought he might actually burst into song and was overly thankful when he didn’t. His words had reminded her of that exact same feeling, the memory of waking with joy in her breast and energy in her limbs, ready to face the day and happy to be lying next to Mario.

Straightening, he smiled at her.

‘Think about it, Mrs T. You see a baby or a child or a teenager, and you ask, “How old?” We shout from the rooftops, “Happy sixteenth! Happy twenty-first!” We celebrate how many months or years someone has been on the planet, announce it all over social media, write it on banners. And for the life of me, I can’t figure out the age we’re not supposed to ask any more. When does it go from being polite and showing interest and quite rightly a celebration to something shrouded in mystery as you approach the decaying years . . . ?’

‘Fifty-three, Jim,’ she said to cut him short. ‘That age is fifty-three.’

‘Well, blow me down! All this time I have wondered, and you had the answer all along. Fifty-three.’ He shook his head and looked up again, as if she had enlightened him. ‘You don’t look too happy, considering it’s your special day.’