Lydia is carrying groceries down the driveway to her house when one of the neighbours approaches.
‘Jesus Christ. Looks like a bag of bricks,’ says Bruce, positioning himself between Lydia and the front door. ‘Here, let me help you carry them.’
It’s almost the end of January, but Bruce is wearing a bright green Christmas jumper embroidered with the words OH WHAT FUN and faun cargo shorts.
‘I’m not quite an invalid yet, Bruce,’ says Lydia, stepping sideways to avoid him. ‘I’m fine thank you.’
But Bruce won’t take no for an answer.
‘Pride comes before a fall Lydia,’ he says, condescendingly.
Back in the summer, Lydia fell from a stepladder on to the patio while cleaning windows, breaking a finger in the process. The talk in the neighbourhood was that she could no longer look after herse
