But Jago came out for tea, bringing her a gingerbread pig, which she said was even more fun, even if she didn’t get to see her friends the Graces … and actually, I thought so too. By Saturday she was herself again, her small reserves of energy restored and so when we took Toto out for a walk we went by way of Honey’s to see how the students were doing with the big clear-out. Jago didn’t have a wedding cake to make, luckily, so was going to be there all day, supervising. There was no sign of life at the front, so we went round the corner and up the unmade bit of lane at the back, where the rusted corrugated iron gates had been wrenched wide open to allow entry for an enormous skip. Already it was half full of flattened cartons, rotted curtains and carpets and crumbling lino. A line of students carrying stacks of old newspapers were scurrying down the metal staircase from the flat like a procession of ants. Jago came out of the garage holding a bundle of old sacking and the rusty jerry can and tossed those into the skip, too.
