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‘Don’t worry. This was a tin I gave to her when she first arrived. Thought it might help with her memory and be of comfort. It’s helped with other residents in the past. I have another I can bring to her,’ she says quietly. ‘But in that moment, she wanted to pass on her spice tin to Willow. It made her happy. I’ll make sure I get another for her.’

Willow carries the tin carefully on his lap all the way home in the car. That evening, he sprinkles the spices on his omelette and devours it in one. Then he carries the tin up to bed and sleeps with it beside him, having the deepest night’s sleep he’s had since arriving here.

Chapter 12

It’s early the next morning when I smell something. Something that doesn’t smell like toast.

There is condensation on the window, which means the heating is still working, thankfully. It’s not always a given. But that means it’s cold outside, and in the bedroom. I reluctantly throw back the covers, my hot water bottle tumbling out of bed onto the wooden floor, which makes Tegan bark.

I pull on Paddy’s old dressing gown, step into my slippers and hurry downstairs.

Willow is standing at the Aga on a small stool that I use to reach things high up in the cupboards.

‘Good morning,’ I say.

‘I need to learn to make pakoras and samosas!’ Willow says, shaking his head. ‘I tried, but they came out all wrong.’ He’s stirring something in a pan, the silver tin beside him on the butcher’s block. ‘Even Tegan wouldn’t touch them,’ he says, clearly dispirited. ‘So I’m doing eggs.’

‘Oh, well, we can find a recipe, I’m sure.’

‘Horse said he’d come and see us today. Maybe he’ll know,’ says Willow.

My phone rings. I look around and locate it on the dresser. Life was so much easier when the phone lived in one place and you’d know where it was! But nothing stays the same, I’ve come to realize. Everything changes.

As I answer the phone, I watch Willow spooning out softly scrambled eggs onto two plates of toast. I listen to the estate agent asking if the buyers can come for another viewing, this time to take measurements and make plans. I’m distracted as I watch Willow open up the silver tin and sprinkle a vibrant orange-coloured spice onto the eggs, put the lid carefully back on and take the two plates to the table. He goes to the dresser and takes out knives and forks and puts them on the table too, along with the tin. While other people his age might be reaching for the tomato ketchup, he’s reaching for the spice tin. It’s clearly helped him find his appetite again, and that is a really good thing.

I end the call and join Willow at the table, sitting at the place he’s laid for me.

‘Well, this looks lovely,’ I say.

‘Ayesha used to make it, I remember.’ He smiles, scooping up the spicy eggs into his mouth. Little fluffy clouds of egg drop from his fork to the floor, happily hoovered up by Tegan.

I’m wondering how to tell Willow about the house sale going through. I want to keep things as calm as possible for him. The whole situation is going round and round my head.

Then I see him looking at me, worried.

‘Don’t you like your eggs? Do you want something else?’

‘What? Oh no, sorry. I was just thinking about things. They look, and –’ I take a mouthful of the soft, buttery and spicy scrambled eggs – ‘taste amazing!’ I gasp, my eyes widening as I spoon in another mouthful. ‘Clever you!’

He beams. ‘I think she put some other things in them, like onions and tomatoes . . . I’d like to try and make them again.’

After breakfast is cleared away, Willow goes outside with Tegan to let out the ducks, turn the radio on and give Louie an extra hug. I go upstairs to get dressed, thinking about the agent calling and the buyers coming for another viewing. I watch Willow from the window, enjoying being with the ducks. It’s all feeling very real. It could be some time before Willow gets a new home, and we have to be out of here by Christmas. We’ll be in a small flat, with him sleeping in the snug box room.

I should never have paid out that deposit. If I’d known I was going to have a guest staying I’d’ve looked for something bigger, with a bigger spare room rather than just a dressing room, or whatever you call it. None of it feels right now that Willow is with me and wants to visit in the future. But if I don’t complete by Christmas, I lose the sale, my deposit and the flat! I’ve made a terrible mistake.

Chapter 13

‘Well, quite a lot has happened while you’ve been away.’

It’s lunchtime, and Gareth is back from his golf trip with a large bottle of Chanel perfume for me and some expensive-looking chocolates for Willow. He’s ‘popped in for a catch-up’, apparently.

‘Is Willow still here?’ he asks, looking around.

‘Yes, he’s just gone upstairs for his spice tin.’

‘His what?’

‘Spice tin,’ I say, speaking quickly and quietly before Willow comes back in case I don’t have another chance to talk to Gareth alone. ‘We took Willow to meet Ayesha, an older lady he spent time with growing up. Horse organized it and came with us. She passed on her spice tin to him. Horse and Willow are going to learn how to make pakoras and samosas and take them to her at her care home.’