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Harry and Barbara were sat opposite each other at the dinner table. She’d made a shepherd’s pie and loaded their plates with fresh vegetables. It was Harry’s favourite meal, and his eyes lit up when she placed it in front of him. He tucked in straightaway, shovelling in huge forkfuls while Barbara merely picked at hers.

‘They’ve forecast snow for the weekend,’ Barbara said, breaking the silence.

‘Really? I’ll pop to Morrisons tomorrow, buy a few bits, just in case it comes down heavy.’

She smiled. ‘You always prepare for an avalanche. I doubt it’ll be even ankle deep.’

‘You never know. How are we doing for candles?’

‘We have more than enough,’ she said, a stern edge to her voice.

‘I’ll get some batteries for the torches.’

‘Maybe a few distress flares, too,’ she said, with a twinkle in her eye. Then, after a few mouthfuls, she said, ‘Harry, I’ve been thinking. We’ve never really moved on, have we?’

‘From what?’

‘From Stephanie dying. We’ve sort of been living in a limbo state for twenty years.’

‘I did mention moving years ago, but you wouldn’t have it.’

‘No. I know. I don’t want to move. I like our house. But, well, maybe we could have a clear-out.’

‘A clear-out?’ he asked, wiping his mouth with his napkin.

‘Yes. Starting with Stephanie’s room.’

Harry’s mouth fell open. ‘Really? What’s brought this on?’

‘We’ve lived in the past for too long. As much as I like to think I feel Stephanie’s presence every time I go into her bedroom, I know I don’t. She left a long time ago. We need to move on. I need to move on. And I can’t while I’m still clinging to what might have been.’

Harry reached across the table and took hold of his wife’s hand. ‘We will do whatever you want to do.’

‘There are a few things I want to keep, obviously, but there’s plenty that can go to the charity shop or the skip.’

‘I’d better add black bags to my list tomorrow.’

‘I’m doing the right thing, aren’t I, Harry?’

‘If you think it will help, then yes, you are.’

‘We could clear out the attic, too. There must be all kinds of junk up there. And the shed.’

‘New year, new start.’ He smiled.

‘You’ve got football programmes going back to the Eighties you never look at.’

‘Steady on, Barbara,’ he said, with a horrified look on his face.

Barbara let out a genuine throaty laugh – her first in a very long time.