Monday, I decided to stick to paperwork and planning while my muscles recovered. I had just sat down at the kitchen table with a panini when a discordant clanging sound rang out so loudly that Hope dropped her bread stick.

‘Eleanor, can you get that?’ Daniel shouted through from the study. ‘I’m three calculations away from a coffee break.’

‘I don’t know!’ I called back. ‘What is it?’

‘Front doorbell!’

‘You have a doorbell?’ I raised my eyebrows at Hope, who simply stared back expectantly. ‘You have a front door?’

It took another minute to wrench back the bolt and unjam the lock on the front door, which up until that point I’d presumed to be purely ornamental. Moving a cardboard box and an umbrella stand out of the way, I managed to heave the door open with an ear-splitting creak.

‘Oh, hi!’ I huffed, breathless from the exertion. It was Becky, Dr Ziva’s daughter who I’d met in the orchard.

‘Hi.’ Becky gave an awkward wave. ‘Sorry, I didn’t mean for you to go to all that trouble. Should I have used a different door?’

‘No, it’s fine!’ I opened the door wider. ‘Sorry to keep you standing about waiting in the freezing cold.’

‘No problem!’ It looked like it might have been a problem. Becky was wearing navy leggings, mud-encrusted boots and a huge brown fleece. Even with a stripy bobble hat perched on top of her curls, she looked frozen stiff.

We looked at each other expectantly for a few moments, as if not sure whose turn it was to speak next. ‘When we met in the orchard, you said to pop round, if I was at a loose end?’ Becky said, eventually. ‘To be honest, I’m at a loose end most of the time at the moment, but I wanted to leave it long enough to avoid seeming like I currently have no life. Or friends.’

‘Right, yes, of course! Come in.’ I stood back to let her in.

‘Oh no, I didn’t mean now, I wouldn’t just turn up and expect you to drop what you’re doing. Only I haven’t got your number, so I thought we could either swap numbers, or arrange a time when you’re free, and I’ll come back then.’

I stood back to let her in. ‘I’m free now. Please, come in. I’ll put the kettle on.’

‘Are you sure?’ Becky’s nose wrinkled up.

‘You’re not the only one who currently has no life. Or friends.’ I turned and strode as confidently as I could down the corridor.

Becky followed me into the kitchen. ‘Wow, this is nice! Looking a lot better than last time I came here. Which was years ago, to be fair.’ She went to coo over Hope, now smearing the soggy remains of her breadstick across the tray of her highchair, while I made us a pot of tea.

After a few minutes of stilted small talk, Becky put her mug down. ‘I’m sorry, but I can’t not say anything.’