As I start to pull out weeds, my mood eases. This feels better. Repetitive, soothing work is good for the soul; I’m sure Jules would say that. An hour or so passes, and the drab morning has unfolded into a glorious afternoon. The sky is searing blue, smudged with white clouds. Look at me, I reflect: a single woman alone for a whole week, having finally found a way of being content with her own company. Maybe this is how I’ll be as I grow older; not a wildcat like Penny, who remarked recently that ‘doing it on a boat doesn’t half make it rock about’ – but a serene lady who enjoys gardening in a straw hat.

I must get a straw hat, I decide, straightening up and stretching my arms high above my head, the way Jules does when she’s limbering up for a yoga session. And then I think, sod it, I might as well do a few sun salutations too. After all, it is sunny, and no one’s watching, and she’s shown me the basic moves.

And so I begin, trying to ignore the audible creaks that seem to be coming from my various joints and sockets as I work my way through the sequence. Reach up to the sky, fold down forwards, arms dangling heavily. Slide a foot back, then the other; lower to the floor into upward dog. Now downward dog, no doubt alarming anyone who might happen to be glancing out of a window, but what the hell? I am a yogi now with my arse in the air, worshipping the golden orb in the sky.

‘You should never feel pain,’ Jules advised me, and actually, this is pretty painful, so maybe I’m not doing it right – but it’s better than the kind of pain I’ve experienced whilst gawping frenziedly at pictures of my husband’s new lover. That sort of pain is just mental anguish. This is the good kind that invigorates the mind. It’s – ow!

I collapse onto the lawn as something hits my backside. Scrambling back up, I look around indignantly. Did a bird just hurl itself at my bottom? As I bend to brush grass from my knees, something whooshes through the air, narrowly missing my cheek.

High-pitched giggles are coming from next door’s garden. ‘Oh, hello, Ludo.’ I bare my teeth at him.

‘Hello Viv.’ He grins malevolently.

‘Did you throw something just then?’ Mindful of Chrissie’s ‘We don’t say no’ school of parenting I’m doing my utmost to address him in a cheerful, non-threatening manner.

‘No?’ he says with an infuriating grin, although the small clod of earth I’ve spotted lying close by would suggest otherwise. Then: ‘Where’s Izzy?’

‘She’s away,’ I reply.

‘Where’s she gone?’

‘She’s in the Lake District with Maeve’s family.’