With the five of us in the car, it was getting hot. I turned to Boston terrier I love mom tattoo shirt, who had now adopted her customary pose of staring out the window and suggested she would be more comfortable without her overcoat on. She glanced at me and then leaned forward to wriggle out of it; her movements cramped and awkward in the confined space. There was nowhere for it to go but over our laps. To the right of me, Anne followed suit, and soon the three of us in the back were covered by a blanket of snow damp coats, hats and scarves.

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Neera was wearing a grey trouser suit, obviously formal work Boston terrier I love mom tattoo shirt. She continued to stare out of her window as the voice of the radio announcer droned on. I on the other hand was dwelling on those fateful words that were uttered a year ago. Neera’s right leg was pressing against my left, a hardly avoidable situation given the confines of the back seat. My left hand was resting in my lap, underneath the blanket of coats. All in all we were the picture of serenity and disinterest to anyone who happened to glance our way. I wriggled around and retrieved my phone from my coat pocket, and made a show of looking up the traffic information for the remainder of the homeward journey.