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Then Rita straightened slightly, wiping her hands on her jeans as they neared the Nook.

‘Age is just a number, Delia,’ she replied simply. ‘And you shouldn’t ever miss out on a chance of love or happiness or travel even, because of what you’ve just said. That would be the saddest thing of all.’

Delia looked at her. ‘I guess there is life in this old codger yet.’

They stopped walking for a second.

‘You’d give many youngsters a run for their money.’ Rita held her gaze. ‘And love is part of life. And yes, it’s a mismatch of hellos and goodbyes, happiness, and sadness. None of us get away without some kind of heartache unless we’re made of stone.’

A small breath of laughter escaped Delia despite herself.

Rita softened. ‘Try not to fear getting old, Delia. Only regret the things you don’t do, and there’s still time to keep making plenty of mischief.’

Delia sighed. ‘And I guess it’s better than the alternative. It’s not all woe is me; I did decide a while ago seventy was a new era for me. Not sitting back and waiting but trying new things. Living it properly. Hence me being here.’

Rita smiled at her. ‘See! For what it’s worth, I hope I’m like you when I’m your age. Full of life. Still fun.’

Delia blinked, thrown by that. ‘Have you ever heard “The Tracks of My Tears” by Smokey Robinson?’

That did it. Rita wasn’t sure whether to laugh or cry. ‘We all have those tracks, sadly. I lost my husband just a few years ago. Then I got together with Jago, who was my Archie’s half-brother, and now look at me – four kids all living at home, engaged to be married again at forty-eight.’

‘Aw, you can be my inspiration.’ Delia smiled. ‘And I’m so sorry for your loss.’

‘It’s been hard,’ Rita admitted. ‘But you’ve got this, Delia.’ Then, she added, ‘And if you’ll have me… you’ve got a friend in me now too. The retreat is open twenty-four-seven, three hundred and sixty-five days a year, if you can face yurt living, that is.’

Delia looked down for a second, suddenly less theatrical, more human.

‘You’re a kind soul, you are. The world could do with a few more Rita Jorys.’ Delia went noticeably quiet. Rita didn’t rush to fill the silence. She simply walked beside her, a warm swell of appreciation moving through her as the hens disappeared behind them and the path carried them gently towards warmth, coffee, and the steady hum of the Nook beginning to wake.

Zenya clattered around the Nook kitchen in fluffy socks, pulling pans from cupboards and muttering to herself while she cooked. At the far end of the room, Oksana was attempting to teach Gabriel a sequence of dance moves using her one good hand, both of them laughing every time he got the footwork wrong.

‘No, no, too stiff,’ she told him, shaking her head dramatically. ‘You dance like disappointed uncle at wedding.’

Gabriel grinned. ‘That is exactly the vibe I’m going for.’

Evan sat curled quietly in the corner beneath the window, already halfway through his copy of A Christmas Carol. Every now and then he smiled faintly to himself before turning another page.

Tessa had already disappeared out for an early jog down to the harbour.

Zenya grabbed the fresh eggs Rita had collected earlier and started whisking them into a spinach omelette.

‘I’m on yours now, Evan,’ she announced. ‘Won’t be long.’

He looked up and nodded.

‘Good to see you reading my December book of the month.’ Rita grinned.

‘Funny thing is’ – he smirked – ‘Scrooge spends half his life trying to control everything so nothing can hurt him… and it only makes him miserable anyway.’ He glanced down at the page again and smiled faintly. ‘Bit of a warning there, really.’

‘Me and Gabriel are happy with cereal and pastries,’ Oksana called, spinning Gabriel so energetically that he nearly crashed into one of the bench seats.

‘What’s going on there then?’ Rita asked Zenya quietly, lips barely moving.

Zenya glanced over with a small smile. ‘I don’t know. Unlikely couple perhaps… but aren’t those usually the best kind?’

She plated up Evan’s omelette and took it over to him.

Delia wandered over, poured herself a coffee, drifted to another window table and started flicking through an old Hello! magazine someone had left behind.