You would laugh if you saw some of the other residents. Well, you’ve met Barb.’

‘The one with the dangly earrings and the fluffy high-heeled slippers?’ Barb made Bet Lynch look like a wallflower.

‘That’s the one. Well, since the poker night has started, a few more have come out of the woodwork. Mainly ladies – single men are VERY thin on the ground after sixty-five – but we do have Sid. Bless him, he seems a little bit frightened of us all, especially Barb, but he still turns up every week.’

‘So I can stop feeling guilty?’

Sheila was refolding a woven throw that Rory had moved. ‘I don’t know. If I let you stop feeling guilty, will it mean that you visit me less?’

‘Depends if you make me do tai chi and play poker.’

Sheila frowned. ‘We wouldn’t let you youngsters play. No, you don’t need to feel guilty at all. It did feel strange when the house sale finalised. It’s weird to think I won’t be going there again. Your dad and I were there for over forty years.’

Rory swallowed down the huge lump in her throat which developed whenever Sheila mentioned their old home. Although she hadn’t lived there in over sixteen years, she felt the same as her mum about its sale. It’s just a house.

Sheila was still talking. ‘I’m sure the young couple who bought it will change everything. I told them that the carpet had only been in for four years and I never allowed anyone to walk on it with their shoes on, but I don’t think they were really listening. They’ll probably change it to wooden floors like those houses in magazines. Funny, isn’t it? When I was a girl, wooden floors meant you were too poor for carpet. Anyway, that reminds me, there’s something I want to talk to you about. I’m bored of cushions. Let’s go and get a coffee.’

Whilst her mum found a seat, Rory queued for the drinks, under strict instructions not to let them put the tea bag into the pot because, ‘It’ll be stewed by the time I get it.’ She had known the cushions story was a ruse. When did her mum ever need help to shop?

Rory slid the tray onto the table. ‘Here you go. And here’s your tea bag and milk in a separate jug.’

‘You are a good girl. You know I only like a splash of milk.’

Rory picked up her coffee. ‘So, what did you want to talk to me about?’

Sheila reached into her bag and brought out an envelope.

Rory knew what this was. She put down her mug and held up her hands. ‘No, Mum. We’ve talked about this.’

‘No, Aurora. You’ve talked about this.