“The last time I saw you, you were about four,” says a voice over my shoulder.

I twist in my cafe seat.

“Your mum and I were best friends at school. Your grandad had a marvellous shoe shop,” the speaker continues, pointing to a trousered left leg attached to a callipered foot.

“He once split a pair of shoes for me so I could wear something prettier than a big black lace-up. This foot’s three sizes smaller.”

The owner of the Eartha Kitt voice is boxed in behind a walking frame. She’s a handsome woman with a shock of blonde hair, a vivid scarf and an apple-green jumper. I remember Mum talking about a childhood friend with polio.