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‘You must come to the farm, once we’re open,’ says Horse.

‘Yes, I’ll make you samosas too,’ says Will. ‘And curry!’

‘I’d love that,’ she says.

To see both Horse and Will so happy is all I need right now. As long as the people I care about are happy, then so am I, I tell myself firmly.

‘Enjoy your visit,’ Nadiya says as we move off towards the stairs.

Will and Horse go into Ayesha’s room ahead of me. Ayesha is sitting in a chair looking out of her window, except I don’t think she is looking at anything. I think she’s just facing that way.

‘Hi, Ayesha,’ says Horse. ‘Will here has brought you something.’

She doesn’t respond.

Will walks up beside her and stands in front of her. It’s only when he is directly in her eyeline that she seems to notice any of us, as if we’ve crept up on her and given her a start. He glances back at me as if seeking reassurance. I nod encouragingly.

‘Open the box,’ I say softly.

Will opens the lid and the smell of spices spirals out, filling the room with warmth. He holds out the plastic box to Ayesha, but she doesn’t move or look at it. She just stares at him, her eyes moving over his face, confusion written on hers. It’s as if memories from the smell of the food are scratching at the back of her mind and she’s trying to place them.

Then Will reaches into the box, takes out a samosa and holds it up to her.

Her eyes move from his face to the outstretched hand and the crispy, savoury samosa.

‘We made them,’ he says. ‘Just like you and I used to, when I was small. You’d stand me on a chair next to you, and I helped you make these. I’m reading now. Lara my social worker helps me, on her days off. She’s a friend too,’ he tells her, gathering in confidence.

I look at Horse and see a ridge of tears along his eyelids. He sniffs quietly, so I reach into my pocket and hand him the bandana. He looks at it, smiles and takes it from me, using it to wipe his eyes.

‘We’re all getting the Christmas tree farm ready to open at the weekend,’ Will is saying chattily. ‘I’m doing fine, just in case you were wondering. In case you did remember me, when I was living with you, with my mum.’

His voice quavers on the last word. He takes a deep breath and lifts a hand to brush away a tear, making me want to rush over and hug him. But something tells me I should let him carry on.

‘My mum’s looked after these days. It’s for the best. I’m being looked after too, by Gwen at her farm. I’m learning to read better, and we do a lot of cooking. And there are new puppies in the barn.’ He raises up a samosa. ‘These are for you to say thank you, for cooking with me when I was little. And for the spice tin. I’ll always look after it.’

Ayesha looks at the samosa, then back at Will. I’m willing her to take one. We watch as, slowly, she lifts a hand. Her skin is almost translucent, veins visible on the back of each hand like maps of the journey of her life.

She hesitates, her hand trembling.

‘Here,’ says Will, slipping back into the carer role that he must have performed with his mother when she was out of it; nursing her to eat and drink.

He puts down the box on the bed, then takes a piece of the samosa and breaks it off and holds it out to Ayesha. She opens her mouth just a little, and he carefully places it on her tongue. She closes her mouth, shuts her eyes and chews very slowly.

Then, just as slowly, she opens her eyes. A smile tugs at the corners of her mouth and a little sparkle comes into her eyes, transforming her expression. She reaches up and touches her hand to Will’s cheek.

After a few moments, as if she’s exhausted by the whole experience, her eyes flutter shut and she seems to slip into a doze.

‘We should let her rest,’ says Horse quietly. ‘We can leave the rest of the samosas here for her.’

As we turn to go, Will leans forward and puts a kiss on Ayesha’s cheek. I see the little smile return for a moment, pulling at the corners of her mouth.

I smile at him as he comes back over to us. My heart couldn’t be more full of pride.

He looks up at me, then takes my hand.

‘Looks like it’s you and me now, Gwen!’

‘And Horse.’ I point.