The plumber shook his head, as if despairing of the radiator. She hadn’t caught his name – something unpronounceable. He seemed a decent type, though, with a friendly face and kind, brown, trusting eyes. ‘You can’t get the parts, you see. This gland-valve’s had it, so I’ll need to find a replacement, but the problem is where?’ She already knew that replacements weren’t always available. Her two hip-replacements had been reasonably successful, but there was no similar solution, as yet, for her arthritic feet and spine. ‘There’s just a chance I might have one in the van, but don’t hold your breath, love – OK?’ She liked the way he called her ‘love’. Love had always been in short supply, so she was storing up these ‘loves’ in the pantry of her mind. Five, so far. Following him into the tiny hall, she stood watching at the entrance to her flat, as he went out into the street and wrenched open the door of his battered old white van.
