One wet, windy afternoon in early October, there had been no sign of Mrs Barley since the previous morning. I rarely had cause to knock on her door, but was a little concerned and thought I should perhaps pop round to check on her. I’d just been to the shop to pick up a copy of the magazine in which my article was due to appear; in spite of my earlier concerns about the deadline, I’d actually completed it before Reggie’s funeral and submitted it with a couple of weeks to spare. Aside from my own contribution, the Halloween issue contained plenty of other information about the locality and I thought the old lady might like to read it.

She seemed delighted to see me; she explained that she had developed a bad headache, but after taking one of her herbal remedies and spending the rest of the day in bed, was starting to feel much better. She invited me in and ushered me into her living room while she went through to the kitchen to put the kettle on.

I shook the rainwater from my jacket, draping it over one of the dining chairs, then placed the magazine strategically on the table for her to see. Coming in from the driving rain, the warmth of the room was welcome, and I sank into the comfortable seat-pad of the small, wooden-framed settee near the window. A tap on the glass made me jump. I looked round, to see Corvus staring in. He seemed to observe me for a moment, then flew off. He didn’t even need to do anything; his very presence left me uneasy for some reason.

Perched in their cage to my left, the lovebirds preened one another incessantly, chirruping their mutual devotion. I thought fleetingly how devastated the other would be, should anything happen to its mate. It made me wonder if, to Mrs Barley, they were in some way a symbol of the love she had shared with Frank. Then my thoughts turned to Jack, and the certainty that at some point in the future one of us would almost inevitably leave the other behind. I thought of Reggie, and how unreal it felt that someone could be so full of life one minute and then gone forever the next. The sudden realisation of the transience of our existence overwhelmed me with sadness. The pregnancy was playing havoc with my emotions; even the sight of roadkill remains had the power to reduce me to tears.