Pru’s husband has walked out, leaving her alone to contemplate her future. She’s missing not so much him, but the life they once had - picnicking on the beach with small children, laughing together, nestling up like spoons in the cutlery drawer as they sleep. Now there’s just a dip on one side of the bed and no one to fill it.

In a daze, Pru goes off to a friend’s funeral. Usual old hymns, words of praise and a eulogy but … it doesn’t sound like the friend Pru knew. And it isn’t. She’s gone to the wrong service. Everyone was very welcoming, it was - oddly - a laugh, and more excitement than she’s had for ages. So she buys a little black dress in a charity shop and thinks, now I’m all set, why not go to another? I mean, people don’t want to make a scene at a funeral, do they? No one will challenge her - and what harm can it do?