‘Jack’s parents are coming to see us tomorrow – I haven’t got the energy for entertaining and the house is a bloody tip. I look a complete mess, too. I’m just too tired to do anything, but I can’t put them off. They’ve flown over from Spain – it would look rude. And Sylvia hates me, I know it.’ I began to sob, burying my face in my hands. It was as if everything had come to a head and the floodgates had opened.

She placed a soothing hand on my arm. ‘I’m sure it’s all in your imagination. No one could hate you – you’re such a lovely girl. And you look fine – just tired, which is what you’d expect in the circumstances. It will soon get better, believe me. You go and sit down and I’ll make you a nice cup of tea. Then you can tell me what needs doing.’

Her arthritis apparently forgotten, she set about tackling everything with gusto. She got on top of the washing and ironing that had steadily piled up, cleaned the bathroom, mopped the kitchen floor and damp-dusted everywhere. She prepared a casserole and baked a Victoria sponge for our guests’ arrival. Being useful and needed seemed to have tapped into some hidden energy reserves, and she amazed me with how much she was able to do in such a short space of time. I could have hugged her.

‘Mrs Barley, you’re an angel. I’m so grateful.’

‘Not at all. It’s never a problem – you only have to ask. I’ve nothing much to do, let’s face it, and I like to keep busy. Besides,’ she said with a wink, ‘we want to make sure you don’t fall foul of your mother-in-law.’

I laughed. ‘Is it a cliché, or are all mothers-in-law like mine – watching you like a hawk to make sure you’re treating their little boy properly? What was yours like, Mrs Barley?’

She seemed to flinch. ‘I didn’t have a mother-in-law. That is to say, I never knew mine. She died when Frank was in his teens.’ There was marked tension in her voice. ‘I believe she was a good mother, though.’

‘Oh, I’m sorry to hear that. But I’m sure you made up for it later by taking care of him. You’ve been a godsend for us, you really have.’

‘I’m happy I can still make myself useful. Well, I’d better get home to my poor birds – they’ll think I’ve forgotten them.’ She turned to leave but stopped in the doorway, her face pensive. ‘I hope I did, you know. Look after Frank properly, I mean. He deserved it.’

*