“This is lovely of you,” I said, “lovely of you all. But it’s something I should be able to do myself. And it’s not just that. I want to sort this out, Fergus, obviously I do. But what I don’t want is to have Greg surgically removed from my life. I want his stuff around me. Not necessarily in piles on the floor. But for me to move on, I don’t need to have all this stuff taken out of the house and dumped in a skip.”

“That’s not what it’s about. We just want to help you deal with it. If it’s a matter of privacy, if you don’t want us nosing through your things, then just say so and we’ll back off.”

“That’s not what I mean. There’s nothing I want to hide from you guys. It’s too late for that. It’s just that I should be able to deal with it myself. It feels wrong.”

“It shouldn’t,” said Fergus. “Let us do it for you. When Jemma finally gives up on me, you can do the same for me.”

A horrible thought occurred to me. “Is there anything you’re not telling me?” I asked. “Do you all think I need help? I mean psychiatric help.”

Fergus laughed and shook his head. “Just us. Honest.”

IT STILL FELT uncomfortable to have been talked about, as if a conspiracy had been hatched against me. An hour later Joe, Gwen and Mary arrived, looking a bit sheepish. I told them I felt terrible. This was their weekend. Didn’t they have obligations, people to be with? They hugged me and made apologetic sounds. I wasn’t sure whether it was more difficult to receive help or to give it. I made more coffee and we went upstairs to survey the chaos. There was some discreet muttering.

Joe gave me a friendly nudge. “It’s not so bad,” he said. “Just think of it as some decorating that needs doing and we’ve come around to hang wallpaper and paint.”

“Do you want me to show you what everything is?” I asked.

“What we want,” said Gwen, “is for you to go out and do some shopping or have a swim, anything, and we’ll go through everything, and some of it we’ll put in boxes and take away. In a couple of days we’ll bring it back and then, at least, we’ll have been able to sort out one bit of your life. We hope.”

I thought for a moment.

“I feel I should say no to all this, or feel resentful, but really it’s such a relief.”

“Then go away,” said Mary, and I did, though not before I’d rolled up Milena’s chart-in-progress and put it into my bag. There are some things even friends shouldn’t know about.