She offers him a tight but grateful smile, and digs into her bread and cheese, washes it down with soup and ale as he talks. None of it is completely familiar, but it's all very good: the soup is more like a stew, thick with meat and vegetables in a savory broth; the cheese is pale and creamy and the bread crackles as she breaks off sections.

"I'm sorry," she says, genuinely sympathetic. "It must be good to be able to spend time with him again. I would never have believed it possible, but then it seems the strangest things are."